"I've worked with better...but not many. Thank you."

The Vietnamese people have a thing for photography. Or I should say the younger generation does. A few events during my time here has made this all too clear. This is part one of a series because the first story is just too long.

Part one: Work Bio Photos

Before I even began work at my present job I was told by the previous person in my position that he had written my bio to go in the company bio file. Once in my position I got to see it: all of the professional staff has their bio (about 6-8 sentences of background, education, languages) and a photo and it's distributed to potential or new clients.

A few days into the job the Office Manager told me to be ready to take my photo the following day. My hair straightener didn't work in Vietnam but I made some effort to contain my hair and wore my black pants and purple collared shirt. The next day when the OM asked why I wasn't wearing the requisite white collared shirt and black jacket I scoffed at her. I wasn't told about the dress code and I sure as heck didn't have a white shirt or a black suit coat- I left them in the US with the rest of my work clothes thinking there'd be no chance I'd need them in such a wild place like Hanoi. OM told me I could borrow a coworker's jacket the next day if I found a white shirt.

So I borrowed Bayley's white shirt that was too big for me and the next day went to the coworker the OM thought I'd be best advised to borrow a jacket from. The woman laughed at me when I asked her and rightly so. She is tiny. I am at least a size 8. She is at least a size 4. I could barely. get. the. jacket. over. my arms. much less over my chest. It was a disaster, it looked horrible. Luckily (?) another coworker let me borrow her black velvet jacket which still looked bad but I didn't care. They took 10 minutes and 50 photos but it was done.

A few days later the OM asked me where my photo was. I told her I had taken in days before and to talk to the coworker with the camera. She came back later and informed me that the photo wouldn't work and I'd need to take it again. A few days after that I again brought Bayley's shirt and luckily by this time had found Jackie's high school black suit jacket and got dressed at the appointed time ready to kill someone. Just take the photo and you'll be done with it.

"Okay. I'm ready."
OM: "Um…do you have lipstick?"
"No. Why?"
OM: "I think it would look better."

I could've hurt her. But I took the photo anyways. Another 10 minutes and 50 photos. It turned out horrible but it was done.

Last week yet another email went out to all employees who hadn't had the official photos taken a few years ago with the professional backdrop: we would be taking the photos again in an attempt to make them match the others. So yet AGAIN I wore the black jacket and white shirt. By this time I had discovered Bayley's straightener and had straightened my hair for the occasion and put on lipgloss. I wanted no harrassment from anyone. I just wanted to take the photo and go back to work, as I was now beginning to suspect that this was a 'fun' activity for all and that my office enjoys taking and retaking photos.

Photo taken, (10 minutes, 50 photos) offered white shirt to others who also didn't get instructions the other times. Back to desk. 20 minutes later I was informed that the photos didn't look professional enough, we were off to an out of office location to have them taken.

(You can assume without my mentioning it that for the rest of this story I became more and more annoyed)

We caught a cab. The place didn't take them. We walked to another place. They didn't take them. We walked a long way. My coworkers were taking photos like we were on a photo shoot the entire time. They made me pose holding things found in the street shops. They made me pose with other people. We caught another cab. They didn't take them. We called places. Found a place. Took a 10 minute cab. Found a place. Waited. Had professional makeup done. Waited. Had photos taken sitting on a step with lights and backdrop and everything. Waited. Saw photos. Chose photos. Said how we wanted them photo shopped. Waited. I get really annoyed and threaten to leave. We pay. We taxi back to office, missing free pizza lunch and messing up my Vietnamese lesson.

In short, my coworkers LOVED this. They loved the photos. They loved looking at them, taking them, etc. The only bright side was that my coworkers think I look like Lindsay Lohan in the photos. I definitely don't.

If I have to take work photos again I swear I'm quitting.