Seven Ringgits

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Try walking with no money in your pockets. Well, in my case it was nowhere near that but recently I only had 7 Ringgits in my pockets. Not realising that, I stopped at the KFC outlet in KLCC and joined the queue to get some lunch. Good thing I went through my wallet, since all I had was, 7 Ringgits. Plus some change. Simply, I do not have enough money for the meal I had in mind and the cigarettes that I wanted to buy too. Ah well, I told myself. As I left the outlet, I thought that I'd better do something so that I won't be "kempunan", so I touched my finger on my tongue and then I dabbed it ever so lightly on my adam's apple. I think it worked, don't have to tell you why. But the thought of not having money played in my mind for a while. What if...... No, better not. But then, what if, really now......... better not dwell on that.

OK, I said to myself, why don't I get that small packet of Marlboro Lights and then figure out what to do. And trust me to notice Burger King, Nando's, Delifrance, Hoca and a host of other seemingly divine food outlets on the way to buy the cigarettes. And I smiled at the whole situation. Here I am, not much money on me and everything looked so good. But it was not the same. I feel like those people who "roughed" it out in some jungle resort, or played war games when we don't have to really really fight in a real war. It was not the same. The closest was once a long time ago, I had just enough money for a roti canai and I drank lots and lots of water with it, just plain water so that the roti canai would expand and I'd feel full. Or in school, when we survived on "roti bawang" for 2 days before the money was credited into our accounts.

Oh, then it was obvious. After a smoke and watching the world have lunch, I went to the automatic teller machine and withdrew some money. Not much, just enough to buy me a meal at KFC and to get by the next few days. But try it, go around with just 7 Ringgits in your pockets. You'll see what I mean.

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No Help Rendered

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I helped a cousin get some practical training at my workplace a while back and it was good for her. She had things to do during her holidays and she got a small allowance for her effort. The trouble started when she graduated recently and her mother keeps pressing me to get her a job next. The only thing I could tell her to do is to keep an eye in the papers and/or write in. That’s all. That’s all I could offer. Aiyoyo, the practical training part was easy, the company only had to deal with them trainees, good or bad, for a few months and not till you are 55. And we are not talking about the speed limit here. Now I am being labelled as "tak mau tolong". Aduhhhh.... Actually ha, "tak dapek tolong".

I don’t have the heart to tell them that her daughter’s CGPA of 2.7 would guarantee her application to be chucked out at the first hurdle. Whoops, a 2.7, out you go into the circular file. I’ll tell you why – because there are stacks and stacks of 3.0 pointers and above that apply for the jobs that we offer.

I was part of the process a few times. It was to fill in a few posts that we identified and after telling them folks at HR what sort graduates in what discipline do we need, we were handed a stack of CV’s. First thing we did whenever we wanted to shortlist the applicants, was to throw out the CV’s with a CGPA of less than 3.0. From a twelve inch stack of CV’s, we whittled it down to six inches in about fifteen minutes. All without looking at a single talent or asking a single question. Then they asked the remainder to come for their first of two interviews and tests.

I had a feeling that something like this would happen when I first helped her. But I never gave the impression that I could pull strings and get anyone a job at my outfit. The place where I work, like many other places, has a central recruiting department. I am just a small clog in the machinery and it would be very difficult for me to pull strings for mostly anyone. Oh, I am a GM alright, a Gurkha Malang. That means the “Unfortunate Gurkha” for those who do not speak Malay.

So if any of you reading this happens to be kids in college, high school or heck, elementary school for that matter, make sure you get a CGPA of 3.5 at least OK? It will save your moms, dads, uncles and cousins a lot of trouble. It would save YOU the most trouble, trust me. It could have saved me the trouble.

I need that new drug.


Note : For you non-Malay speakers :

tak mau tolong - don't want to help
tak dapek tolong - could not help / powerless to help
Aduhhhh.... - Ouchhhh....

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Open House Grouse

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In about a month’s time, it will be the season of open houses. I don’t mind the open houses that people have for relatives or maybe for twenty or thirty folks but when you are one of eight hundred or so, I simply hate it.

A typical visit to an open house usually goes like this. We go in, meet the host, we shake hands, he asks us to dig into the rows and rows of food that he has catered and even before letting go of my hand he’d be looking at someone else to greet. We would line up and get the food, find a place to sit and eat our food in silence. Maybe some small talk with anyone who is around. You could only eat so much and in about fifteen or twenty minutes max, the eating is done and you would be restless. You are lucky if you see someone you know. But then, you would only want to stay for so long as you would have to leave for home or have to go to the next open house. Yes, just like a production line. Some proudly say, “I have to go to eighteen open houses today!!!” Like it’s a badge of honour. I guess in a way it is. Then you’d start looking for the host since you want to leave already.

You find him and the first thing he says is, “Eh, makanlah lagi, banyak lagi makanan tu…..!!!!”, all the while looking somewhere else.

We’d say, “Dah kenyang dah. Terima kasihlah banyak-banyak. Dah kena jalan dulu dah, bulu Shioyen dah keras dah, dah seminggu tak shampoo.”

He’d then say, “Eh, makanlah lagi, banyak lagi makanan tu…..!!!!”

Then we’d say, “Tak apalah, betul dah kenyang ni, kalau sesuap lemang lagi ni, you kena pergi jauh-jauh, sebab takut meletup nanti.”

He’d then say, ““Eh, makanlah lagi, banyak lagi makanan tu…..!!!!”

But we’d say thank you very much again but we do have to shampoo the cat and she usually eats the furniture if we are late in lathering her. Either that or you say that Pak Lah’s house is next in line and you do not want to keep the PM waiting, don’t you?

He’d then say, ““Eh, makanlah lagi, banyak lagi makanan tu…..!!!!”

It helps if you have a flat nose as all that lying might cause you to become like Pinocchio. I can’t stay very long at someone’s house when the owner is not even aware of my existence. I do not go to people’s houses during Hari Raya just to eat as I can assure you that all the lontong, ketupat, lemang and the associated kuahs and food that I want to eat, I have eaten at home, my mom’s house, my sibling’s houses, my in-laws’ houses, rumah Mak Lang, rumah Nek Su, rumah Tok Tib, rumah Pak Ngah and rumah Mak Uteh and they are 37.865 times tastier than any catered Hari Raya food. Try it, Andek’s rendang is 50.376 times nicer that what Munah Catering tries to pass off as rendang.

For Hari Raya, I just want to visit your house, pay my respects as a friend and have a drink and a bite of whatever that you have. Rest assured that I do not crave your catered beef rendang, chicken soto or mee goreng. Fifteen minutes of quality conversation over a glass of water and some kuih kering is worth more than all the catered food that I could ever hope to eat.

No, open houses are not for me. Not when I have to eat in tents with nine hundred other people. Hari Raya was never meant to be that.

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It Will be Forever

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What do you do when you fall in love?

Will it be forever?

Is that what you do when you get caught between the moon and New York City?
I know it's crazy, but it's true.

If you get caught between the moon and New York City
The best that you can do
The best that you can do
Is fall in love.

There was Jennifer Beals. Siam. Lipper. Flower. Lady. Now it's Ashley Judd.
Not anymore.

Will I stay forever? Forever.

For those lips of wine.

When I fall in love
It will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love.

Voltaire said
Love is the ultimate and most wonderful form of madness.

Madness
Yes.

Ultimate
Yes.

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Give Up

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A long time ago...
In a galaxy far far away......

No, it was not that long ago and besides, it was only in Jalan Pudu, right here in KL.

It must have been the late 70's, it couldn't have been later than that. The name of the theatre was the "Sun Theatre" I think. I could be wrong but I am quite sure it was the "Sun Theatre". Along Jalan Pudu, heading south, before the intersection with the police station and/or post office. Heavens, I can't even remember that anymore.

We used to pass by the theatre week in and week out, with the Tong Foong Bus, the No. 101 bus. Later it would be bus No. 123 and later still No. 123A. The No. 123A would take us closest to school. Those who are more daring would remember bus No. 124. That would take us to the flats and we would walk through the pig farms back to school.

The theatre would have these huge canvas posters of movies yet to be shown. Once, there was this Chinese movie. I remember the drawings of a legless man on crutches and the setting sun viewed from a beach. A couple could be seen holding hands by the water's edge. I don't know the title in Chinese, but translated to English, it was "He Never Gives Up". Which made perfect sense. Maybe the movie was about a handicapped man who had to struggle to live and he never gave up.

But the title in Malay was "Perahu di Tengah Lautan". You figure that one out.

So, whenever anyone among us feels like giving up, we'd say "perahu". Whenever Raymond feels like giving up playing Mario Brothers, we'd say "perahu". Whenever Mardzukie feels like giving up on his studies, we'd say "perahu". Whenever Amin feels like giving up on his girlfriend, we'd say "perahu". Whenever......, you get the drift, don't you?

Come to think of it, there might have been a small sampan in the poster. That might explain things. That might also explain why Amin never speaks to us anymore.

Oooh, I perahu........

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Good Girl and Bad Boys

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This, I have to share. I was on the net recently tidying up my emails, doing some work, staying up late and since these dial-up connections are slow I thought I’d enter one of the chat sites that I used to frequent a bit a few years ago. Hardly have the time and energy to do so anymore.

I am tired of being myself on the chat sites, trying to find someone interesting to chat with could be a chore sometimes so I thought I’d let someone try to chat me up. So I got myself set up with a nice girl’s name and wrote down a few basics for the age, sex and location thing on a piece of paper so that I would get things right and straight every time and dream up a job as a bank teller and waited.

Aiyoyo, I tell you, I didn’t have to wait long. I must have gotten something like thirty guys trying to chat me up within ten minutes and all of them want to do things to me. Could be nasty or nice, depends on which side of the line you are. I told them that they could certainly do what they wanted, to their mama!!! Some kept quiet and left. Some fought back with a lot of words that have got to do with our general condition after a shower. One thing I must get are those 3 numbers, you know, those 38-28-38 or something like that. I was stumped when asked about that. Shoot, I never bothered about my measurements now, so how could I cough up a set of such numbers? Of the opposite sex?

But I finally chatted with two guys. Whenever they got frisky, I warned them to toe the line or else. And they do so obediently like very well behaved puppies. Actually some Malaysian guys can talk la. Not bad actually. They behaved rather well to after they know that I am a squeaky clean “girl”. They asked for phone numbers etcetera etcetera. Cannot la kan? I thought of giving one of the along’s phone numbers that we see everyday everywhere around us but I think if he tries to romance one of the alongs, one of them could end up dead. From a beating or a heart attack, depending on whether it is the along or the horny one. I don’t want that on my conscience. The first guy was quite knowledgable. He knew who wrote The Merchant of Venice. Actually he could be like me, that’s the only literary fact that I know. They asked for things like what I am wearing. Aiyo, so simple, corny, clever or scared. Clever because they are trying again to be funny. Scared because they know that this lovely, cute, interesting, can talk chick could leave them hanging if they try to be fresh. All who tried to chatted me up last night had only one thing on their mind. And it was not Hemingway or Tagore. Aiyoyo, I was an angel when I chatted dulu.

But then I had to leave my suitors for my beauty sleep. I think the next time I am on the line I want to be a 28-year old single doctorate holder in astronomy who loves bungee jumping, rock climbing, the theatre, shops in London or Paris twice a year, does tons and tons of social work and drives a beemer given by a doting father who is so rich he is never clean. Filthy rich, get it?

Aaahh, I found a new drug.

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Pitter Patter in the Past

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I met a good friend from primary school today, over a very informal gathering that one of us organized. Secondary school reunions are common, hey, we do primary school reunions where I'm at. N. T. P. S (2), Simpang Lima, Kelang, Selangor. The "High School". Yup, a primary school that is called "High School".

Shamsuddin and me constituted half of the 4 x 400 metres relay in primary school. Ariffin would run the first leg. I was second, Shamsuddin was third and Prabakaran would run the anchor leg. Mr. Ngoh, my class teacher, was the athletics master then. I remember him repeatedly asking me not to look back while running. After the second or third race, he finally asked me why I kept look back repeatedly at the other runners behind me.

“I want to know where they are, how close are they to me.”

“Why?”, Mr. Ngoh would ask.

“So that if they are closing in, I’d run faster.”

“Then why don’t you just run as fast as you could all the way?”, he’d say again.

“Don’t want to get so tired la, Mr. Ngoh.....”

I guess there was just enough sanity in that reasoning, coming from an eleven year old that he simply could not do or say anything else. The most plausible reason I get to do that was because Ariffin was such a good runner that he’d leave most of the competition behind. I was the weak link actually. I was always fourth in most of the races in school then, let it be the 100, 200 or 400 metres. So, in my final year of primary school, I didn’t win any individual medals but between the four of us we did win a few relay medals in races that we participated in, usually during other schools’ sports day. Most of the time we came in third but that was good enough for a medal placing and to an eleven year old, that is all that counts. We’d run barefooted then and somehow I have this impression that all of the races were held in wet soggy school fields. All except one. I was sure about that one race because when I handed the baton over to Shamsuddin, he kicked up so much dust on the well-worn track that I remember ending up coughing and choking. In the beginning, I was supposed to run the first leg but because I insisted on closing my ears with my fingers to avoid listening to the starter’s gun, we’d lose a few yards or so at the start of each race. Those few yards could be important later so Mr. Ngoh put Ariffin as the first runner instead. He was braver than me, he didn’t have to close his ears as the gun went “BOOOOM!!!” It did go “BOOOOM!!!”. Honest. At least it did to me……

I still have photos from then. In one of them, Mr. Jeyaraman and Mr. Ngoh were flanking us on either side. There were the four of us plus Jeyaraj – he usually takes over from me in the 4 x 100 metres relay. He’s faster than me in the 100 metres but I beat him over the longer distance. Kneeling in front were the team from the lower primary classes. I remember the names of only two of them, Khair and Mohan. I can’t recall the names of the other two guys. I guess we looked mean then to the other primary schoolers then. Looking at the photo again, we simply looked cute.

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Phone Sense

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I am so so tired today but since I am on a roll, I thought I’d just carry on until I drop. I came back from Marriott Putrajaya this evening, messed around with the PC, downloaded an anti-virus software, tested the PC (stable!) and I am exhausted!!! I was supposed to be in Putrajaya since Tuesday, 5 October for a thingy until today but all I did that day was to register and went home. One hotel room wasted. There was a reason for that. And cockroach free too.

I had to be in the office yesterday morning for a presentation to a review committee on this project that we are doing.

And it was a morning of mistakes and disasters.

Kevin, my staff did the presentation on behalf of the team since it had a lot to do with the work that he had done. It was fine until about seven minutes into his presentation.

His phone rang.

He answered it, “Hi Greg, I’m doing a presentation right now and I can’t talk but I’ll call you later.”

Aiyoyo, this guy, I couldn’t believe it, he actually answered the goddamned phone!!! There he was, doing a presentation up front and he stopped to answer the phone. Today is the day that I will commit murder, I thought.

“Kevin, put the phone down. Kevin, put the phone away…..”, I hissed. Good thing he did. Bad thing number one.

Half an hour or so into the session, I felt something is not right. There were too many questions from the committee. I had this feeling that he did not review his work with whom we call “peers”, our real experienced technical personnel. Sure enough, in between his slides, I managed to ask him, he did not. Bad thing number two.

And bad thing number three is that I assumed that he had ran his work past those folks. It took us two months to book the meeting with the high and mighty committee and we blew it. I blew it. I should have just gone and joined the others at the hotel yesterday morning and it was good company too. Some cute ones too. Ha, I kept saying that about some of the fairer sex who crossed paths with me but at least you know that nothing happened since I bragged about it.

Like my friend said, memuji keindahan ciptaan tuhan. Praising the beauty of god's creations. Yeah, right. Whatever.

I need a new drug.

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The President, An Angel and Some Madmen.

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This I have to share with everyone. Last Wednesday night, we were just about to conclude dinner at the Sari Ratu Nasi Padang Restaurant in Plaza Indonesia, below the Grand Hyatt Jakarta when I noticed a man just about to sit at the table in front of us. He looked awfully like the next President of Indonesia, Susilo Bambang Yudhiyono.

True enough, it was him. Out of the blue, security men appeared and even a guy who introduced himself as the manager began directing the workers in the restaurant. I guess it was an unannounced dinner outing by the incoming First Family of Indonesia. A few more things that we noticed, we guessed the lady must be his wife, then a young man maybe in his early twenties sat next to him is probably his son and lo and behold, in front of the son must be an angel.

She must be the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life, maybe twenty years old or so and we sat there for the next half an hour or so looking at the backs of the future President, the future First Lady of Indonesia and their son and squarely at the face of what must surely be their daughter. The only word that I could use to describe her is, divine. At least I saw the president-elect first, my boss, who was facing the same direction as I was went for the jugular – he didn’t see him at all because he was looking at someone else. No prizes for guessing who it was. The other three who sat facing us were cursing their rotten luck and their whiplash-suffering necks.

That night we joked on how we could go about to get to call the man “daddy”. Talk about an angel. Talk about wishful thinking. Talk about madmen.

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