Staying on the fast lane

 

Your rights are not guaranteed on the fast lane.  I mean your rights of way, if you’re not fast enough for the faster drivers or speed freaks.  But then, to drive in the slow lane on certain stretches of the North-south expressway can be pretty stressful, more stressful than risking getting your tail bumped in the fast lane. 

 

There are those super slow road huggers who think doing 60-80 kph guarantee their survival until a ripe old age when they go to drivers’ heaven.  (Of course I’d forgive those who’d just got their driver’s license or are venturing out on the expressway for the first time)  So, if you insist on your regular 110 kph, you need to keep weaving in and out of the slow lane or risk rear-ending into some of those boring behinds.

 

And according to my logical reasoning, due to slow moving cars and the heavy and equally slow moving trucks and buses squeezing the surface of this lane, the tarmac wears out faster than the fast lane.  This contributes to the uncomfortably bumpy road surface.   

 

Then there are those motorbikes crowding the emergency lane.  Those guys tend to spill over to the side of the slow lane and some even stray all the way to middle of the lane. 

 

So, to stay alert and keep moving I tend to stay on the fast lane at the maximum side of speed limit and keep eyes to both the front and back of me.  Every now and then a sleek, (usually dark and vulgar-looking) road runner would creep right up behind me or suddenly appear on my rear-view mirror and flash its headlights continuously until I get out of its way.  I say “its” because these whodunits don’t seem human at all.  Before I could barely move aside, the critter would squeeze by leaving a hair’s width in between and push on as if trying to make up for the few seconds of lost time.  But many of these roadrunners usually have one or two more equally crazy drivers stuck on their tails trying to outdo one another.

 

Occasionally, one would meet up with another kind of road animal.  Once on a sunny Sunday morning, I was out there with wifey in my Iswara on our way to an in-law’s.  As usual, I kept to max speed limit and stayed comfortably on the fast lane.  Like most Sunday mornings, the whole expressway was clear for long stretches until I suddenly noticed a huge bike with a rider dressed in jeans, black jacket and dark shades right behind me.  I’d been used to motorbikes sticking to the side lanes and had not reacted by moving aside for him.  The biker passed me on the left and proceeded to make hand signals, the way a traffic cop would do, that seemed to say I have to move to the slow lane since I’m slower.  “Mind your own bloody business, you non-paying highway user.” I mumbled to myself.  I let that go as he had, by then, sped off as if there’s no such thing as a speed limit.

 

About 20 minutes later this pesky biker suddenly appeared behind me again.  Of course I had to look to my right to see if there are vehicles before I can move away to make room for this “big” bugger.  But it seems he had other things in mind.  As if to teach me a lesson he passed me again on the left and swiped my side mirror.  Though he caused no damage he gave wifey a fright and set my blood to a boil.  I leaned on my horn while he sped off.  I just wondered what he had hoped to achieve by that little fancy act.  If I had been a little more hot headed (or wifey had not been in the car) who’s to know that I wouldn’t twist my steering into his direction and spill him onto the tarmac?  At 110 kph, that would make a messy tumble.  Did he forget that he’s got only 2 wheels?  Or perhaps he’d only pick on a harmless looking uncle and auntie out on a Sunday drive. 

 

Well, Mr. Biker, whoever you are.  Save your one-upmanship and take care.  Your next “victim” may not be as nice or as patient.

 

Stories from the workplace V

 

I never fail to be amazed by the vast amount of information available on the internet and all the things I can learn from it.  If only I can remember all the facts in there.  But that's no problem.  Whatever I need to know I could still recall how I found it last and I just go for the same method of searching for it.  But if there are important facts relating to my line of work, I make it a point to remember those particular facts.  Still, with all the information available, there are lots of people, even though their jobs require them to have at least the basic knowledge of certain facts, don't make an effort to know them.  This explains why the Great Guys always say, "Knowledge is power".  Now all that power is available 24/7.  All you need to do is click at it with the mouse, or type in the key words.

 

Here's an example of how knowledge can put you one up over others: One of our customers complained to our Quality Dept about a burnt out fuel pump from one of their cars.  Quality engineer came to me and asked how to explain to the customer why this thing can happen.  He begged me to go along to a meeting with the customer and help him.  His argument was, since I'm the guy who produces the gadget, I'm partly responsible.  (Actually our production unit just gets the assembled pump and attaches it to a flange and connects the pipes and cables.)  So I found myself tagging along to the customer's plant and ushered into their meeting room.  Several of their engineers were already there waiting for us, eager to fire us with questions.  Someone shoved the troublesome pump in my direction.

 

There was a plastic section on the pump which houses the connecting terminals into which the power supply to the pump was connected.  There was a huge burnt-out hollow in the plastic housing.  I took out my magnifying eye-piece and peered at it.  I must have made myself appear like an expert with that gesture.  I said this is the first time I've seen this happen.  Someone then said it looks so dangerous and asked what happens if the whole tank explodes?  I asked if anybody has seen or heard of a car's fuel tank exploding.  Nobody said anything.  I proceeded to explain that a tank won't explode even if there's a huge spark in it.  There's not enough oxygen in the tank to support it.  Those things that go BOOM only happen in the movies.  They need that for the dramatic effect.  In real life you need the right combination of fuel/air ratio and compression for an explosion to happen.  In an engine you need a fuel/air ratio of 1:14.7, a compression and a spark to create that explosion. 

 

Everybody looked at me and forgot to close their mouths.  But I was no expert.  I grinned behind my hands because I only learned about that fact from the internet the previous day.  I anticipated that question because that was the first thing that came to my mind whenever people talk about a spark or a fire sharing space with petrol or any flammable liquid.  Any loose connection can create a spark.  If such things can explode, every one of us is sitting on a bomb everyday of our lives.  The fuel tank is just under the back seat of the car.  And both the fuel gauge (that tells us how much fuel we have in the tank) and the fuel pump need power supply to keep them working. 

 

For the rest of the meeting I closed my mouth and let the quality engineer handle the boring stuff like writing the minutes and setting deadlines while I twiddled my thumbs and tried to figure out how the frigging thing could burn out that hole.

 

The Con Game

The recent huge hoohah about a Lebanese billionaire with lots of cash to throw around in town and conning his way into the Police Cooler, started me thinking about con-men and their bag of tricks.

 

Case #1

When I was in my teens, I used to hang out with my elder brother and his group of friends around our local kopitiam.  Most of us carry the names our parents gave us typical of our generation; like Ah Huat, Ah Seng, Ah Soon, Ah Chye, Ah Keat and what have you.   So, it was without suspicion on my part when one evening, (when I was in my twenties) as I was about to cross a street in town, a guy came paddling by on his bicycle and asked if I still remember him.  And he proceeded to roll the above names off his tongue while I searched my 'hard-disk' for the file that stored the long forgotten information. 

 

While I was still trying to place his face, he went on to tell me about his miserable life after his "release from jail, and his recent operation" and there was even a scar on his belly to convince me.  Of course I don't remember hearing of any of our friends ever getting parceled off to jail for anything.  Then he said he hadn't had any food yet and hoped I could spare him a few bucks.  I fished a couple of loose notes from my pocket and gave them to him.   After that he just rode off into the night.  It took me a while before I realized I'd been had.  Those names he came up with were the typical names that would fill up any Chinese telephone book, especially when you use only the last name with the 'Ah' prefix.

 

A few weeks later, while I was heading for the motorcycle park after leaving the ferry from the mainland, the same guy on the same bicycle rolled alongside of me again.  Looking at me cheerfully, he asked the very same question he did the previous night.  This time I answered: Yes, I remember him.  You'd laughed if you could see the surprised look on his face!  Without another word he paddled his bicycle as quickly as he could and got out of my sight.

 

Case #2

Years later, after I had settled down in SP town, a guy conned his way into our house.  I was away at work while my wife was busy getting one of the kids ready for school.  He said he was a friend of mine and his car just broke down somewhere nearby.  Wife thought his face looked familiar but giving him the benefit of the doubt, let him into the house to use our telephone.  After making his call, he asked for some plastic bags saying he's got some fresh vegetables in the car and would like to give some to us.  He then said he'd run out of cash and asked to borrow RM30 to get his car repaired.  With that, he disappeared.  He didn't come back with vegetables of course.  I wondered which of my 'friends' would pull such a lowly trick to con us of a few bucks.  But I am sure grateful nothing more serious than that happened to my family, so far. 

 

Case #3

Some years ago, while on a tour in China, a brother-in-law (and our wives and friends) and I were chatting in a hotel lobby waiting to check out.  A guy came in and spoke to us in our local dialect, and told us he came from Singapore.  He said he was in a tour bus coming into Kunming and there was an accident.  He was now hunting all over the city trying to locate his son and his wife who were seriously injured and were taken to hospital, but he didn't know which ones they were taken to.  So like normal human beings we showed some sympathy and noted that he was lucky to have escaped injury and chatted with him for a while.  Then he excused himself and walked away.  But on second thoughts he turned around, came back and said that all his money has been spent and that he was hungry and asked much politely if we could spare him some cash.  I gave him 20 Renminbi and bro-in-law did the same.  He thanked us gratefully and went off again. 

 

Bro-in-law and I looked at each other.  He smiled knowingly and shook his head.  We knew immediately we'd been had.  I shrugged and he said, "It's OK.  Consider that a charity done".  I realized we had no choice but to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.  If he was a conman he was considered 'thick-faced'.  But could we be 'two-faced' after showing him sympathy and yet refusing to help him?  I guess we couldn't bring ourselves to his level.

 

Case #4

Just a few weeks back, a conning case happened just next door.  I came home that Saturday at lunchtime feeling starved after running some errands at the bank and post office, and noticed a guy talking to Mrs Lim.  I was immediately alerted to the tone of conversation going on.  It sounded too much like the high pressure tactics I'd often heard about.  The guy was going non-stop about how lucky they were to have been picked to win this something (which I didn't get to hear......)   As I was wondering if Mr Lim was at home, wifey motioned me into the house and shut the door.  She said not to worry; the hubby’s in, so let's not interfere.  There's nothing we can do for them.  It's their business anyway.  That was only a door-to-door salesman and we don’t have time for them.  I felt bad, because as a neighbor we should try to see if any trickery was going on.  But I was hungry so I headed for the kitchen. 

 

A few days later the story came.  It seems, the salesman was from one of those fly-by-night organizations that sell cheap electrical goods at high prices, and to pull the wool over the buyers’ eyes, waved newspaper stories to show pictures of lucky winners of (non-existent) prizes of luxury cars, or something like that.  Well, so far I haven’t yet heard of anyone getting anything for nothing, except by stealing or robbing.  Even for these two activities you have to plan and work at them.

 

Somehow, the couple next door got interested and showed up at the shop.  There they bought and paid for a few thousand bucks worth of electrical goods.  When they reached home, they discovered that the items they bought were low cost stuff and not worth the money they paid for.  Some of the items were even non-functional.  Feeling that they'd been conned, they went back to the shop and demanded their money back.  The guy-in-charge refused to oblige.  He asked them to take other products instead.  They weren't interested.  Finally, they threatened to go to the police.  The guy-in-charge thought they were bluffing and told them to go ahead.  They did. 

 

The inspector turned out to be a nice chap.  He called the shop and told the guy-in-charge that a report has been lodged against the shop alleging that they had cheated my neighbors.  To hear what they have to say, the inspector arranged to meet them.  The guy-in-charge sent a couple of his sales guys to the appointed place.  As soon as they showed up, the police hand-cuffed them and threw them into the lockup.  Then the inspector called the shop again and informed them where their guys were.  They'd have to refund the money to my neighbors first and then explain how they run their business before their guys could be released. 

 

My neighbors went back to the shop.  Upon entering the shop, the wife noticed there was another lady at the counter producing a credit card ready to pay for her purchase.   The wife proceeded to tell the guy-in-charge that since they had promised the inspector that they'd refund the money they'd better pay up.  She spoke loud enough so that the lady with the credit card could hear her.  The lady quickly put her credit card back into her purse, made an excuse about thinking it over, and left the shop immediately.  My neighbors got back their cash. 

 

I wondered what would have happened if I'd tried to distract them that day when the door-to-door guy was doing his sales pitch.  Would they have refrained from buying?  Or would I have been conned along with them?  I don't really know for sure.  But since I already have all necessary electrical items I needed in the house, why would I buy anymore even if it is for the sake of claiming a lucky draw prize?   Like the Hongkees say, "There's no free lunch...."

 

Stories from the Workplace IV

 

 

I have the misfortune to work with a "she-bear".  Some colleagues want to shake hands with her hubby for being such a saint.  He used to wait for her patiently outside the factory gates at quitting time everyday.  If he came late, she'd go ballistic.  We know that because she told us.  She'd proudly proclaim she's the fiercest person around.  She can't be bullied.  Her technical know-how was zero, but she acts like she knows everything.  Handling such people gives you mental exhaustion.  But if there's anything I'd give her credit for, it's her thick skin.  If you prove her to be an idiot, she'd turn it into a joke and laugh at herself.  I dislike managing people, but that's one part of life that can't be avoided.  With some people, you either 'manage' (manipulate) them or they'll 'manage' you. 

 

One day I was told she was marked for transfer to handle another product line.  I told my colleague who was handling that line, "I got good news and bad news.  Good news for me, bad news for you".  He groaned.  A few weeks later, he came back to me with a grin on his face and the news that the transfer was cancelled.  That was good while it lasted.  We're already used to it, so the best thing was to have a good laugh about it.  Somehow her boss found a way to keep her in line.  He simply gives her more responsibilities.  That suits her pretty well, it seems.  She loves to be in charge.  Getting more responsibilities gives her the illusion of being in charge of more people.

 

I once worked with a very hard-working electrical technician.  He was also very playful.  One day, he got up a high ladder to hang up some balloons and a 'happy-new-year' poster next to some light fixtures.  That was not supposed to be done during production time, but since he didn't report to me I had no say to that.  I was standing next to a few other technicians watching the event and one of them made some negative comments.  I joined in with some remarks to amuse them.  A few minutes later the electrician came into my office and confronted me about my remarks.  I listened quietly while he told me I had no right to control whatever he did.  When he'd finished, I stood up and said, "No doubt what you did was none of my concern.  Even if you fell down, it's not my concern.  I was just joking with those guys, but if you feel offended, I apologize".  Then I offered my hand and we shook hands.  But I added I'd be more careful with the guy who told him what I said since we all knew that we were only joking. 

 

Later, we went through an organization re-shuffle and he ended up reporting to me.  He was somewhat resentful as he understood that I had very limited knowledge about electricity.  One morning, a supervisor came in and reported a sonic welder broke down and required to be fixed as the production line had stopped.  I asked him if he had alerted the technician.  He said, "Yes, but he said since you're his manager you should tell him what to do!"  Something didn't sound right here.  I sent for the technician.  When he came in, I asked, "What's wrong with the machine?"

He said, "I don't know.  You're my boss what, you tell me lah..."

I didn't get angry.  I just asked him, "Have you looked at the machine?"

He said, "No." 

I said, "Then let's take a look at it."

 

We both went to the line.  The conveyor was empty.  There was no work in progress.  I was suspicious that he and the supervisor had something in common.  But I said nothing.  He opened the machine cover and we both peered into it.  I asked, "Well?  What do you think?"

He said maybe I should call the machine supplier for help from their technicians.  That was when I took a deep breath and said, "Look, we are both responsible for our equipments here.  If we were to call in the experts for every little problem in this factory, you and I will soon be out of our jobs."  I looked at him and smiled.  I could have said that if he's not interested in solving the problem, I'd find someone who could, but I didn't.  He grinned and I knew he understood my meaning very well.  I went back to my office.  A few minutes later he came in and said he'd solved the problem.

 

We went on to solve more problems after that.  Years later, when we had both left the company, he went on to run his own injection molding factory.  The last time I heard from him, he invited me to visit his factory sometimes.  He said he was driving a Volvo 7-Series.   Seems like he's doing great.

 

 

A Gathering of Old Saints

 

It's time of the year again for our Old Xaverian Association annual dinner.  In spite of my early 4.00pm departure from SP to avoid the traffic jam on the Prai side of Penang Bridge, which is a regular occurrence on Friday evenings, it took me more than thirty minutes to get to the other side.  The queue started immediately at the turn-off from the interchange.  Anyway, I reached the Sandy Beach Paradise a quarter before 6.00pm and managed to locate the place in between 2 other hotels namely, the Corpthorne and the Crown Prince.  KS Khoo’s email mentioned Sandy Bay, but since that’s the only place called “Sandy” that must be it.  I wanted to arrive early on purpose so that I could drop by for a chat with my old folks at their apartment just a 5 minute drive from there.  Mum was preparing dinner and dad was at his favorite reclining chair in front of the TV.  Normally they'd maintain their youthful vigor by arguing about anything under the sun or compete for my attention with their opinions whenever I'm around.  But that evening they were rather subdued as if in reflection of the moody weather.  I hoped I brought them some cheer with my surprise visit.

 

When I arrived at the hotel later the 'car park full' sign was blocking the entrance.  A guard indicated an alternative parking space a bit further down the road on a vacant field next to the Dalat School next door.  On my way to the hotel from the car park it was drizzling, but I decided to leave the umbrella.  I noticed a lanky guy with clean shaven head behind me.  The face looked familiar.  My mind ran through the list of names and I guessed this must be Chin Soon.  I turned around and asked him and he said yes.  He couldn’t remember me, so I had to remind him.  We represented St Xavier's Branch School together in an art competition at Francis Light School when we were in Std 6.

 

We found we were the first to arrive at our table, followed by Gaik Im, the only rose among thorns at our table.  This bubbly lady got here all the way from Phoenix, Arizona, USA where she’s a property agent.  She's on one of her occasional visits home.  She was from our neighboring school, the Light Street Convent with whom we shared the playing field.  The common link we had was that she spent a few months in form 6 in SXI before she left for the US.  Ong was in SXI until form 4 after which he left for UK to pursue a course in fashion design.  He resided in UK for 11 years and then moved to Hong Kong where he now runs a boutique. That’s the gist of all the information I managed to gather from these early birds before the rest of our table mates showed up and the resident band struck up their oldies and goodies of the sixties and seventies trying to drown out our conversation.  We then tried to carry on by turning our voices up a few more decibels in between some photo-sessions and 'yam-seng' cheers.

 

There was Chin Kong back from Toronto, Canada.  We learned he’s into politics there.  I remember him as the guy who kept praising me for my artistic talents when he saw some of my works displayed in our school annual exhibition.  It looks like he's found his calling.  Too bad, I didn't follow mine.  I was glad to have also met Dean Liu, who generously supplied the Green and Black labeled whiskeys which put so much life into our little gathering in the midst of the larger gathering.  There also was Joseph Yong, Sik Kim, who's in civil-engineering, Swee Sim (MAS), our regular Cheong Tian the freight-forwarder, Choon Jin the low profile and humble tycoon and not forgetting JM Tan the security expert from Fairchild.  Our table was reserved by our OXA vice-president friend, KS Khoo former banker, now GM of Clarion. 

 

We were treated to the usual 8 course dinner complete with lucky draws offering prizes in cash and kind. To round off the evening, our vice-president got on the stage with the band and gave us his version of 'Secret Love'.  We assumed he wasn't singing about his personal life at this age. The guys decided that 10.15 pm was too early for them to crawl off home to bed.  They were just warming up and wanted to shift the party to another venue.  For me, I've had enough to last me till next year.  It felt great to sit among old friends and yak away the night, and I would have loved to continue but my neck wasn't really up to it yet.  I decided to call it a day, thinking about the usual jam in Green Lane and my long drive back to SP alone on the wet, drizzly night.

 

This was my 2^nd attendance in this annual dinner and to think that I haven't seen some of these guys for more than 35 years.  Except for some receding, greying or missing hairlines, thicker glasses or reading glasses where there were none before, nothing much has changed over the years.  These guys still tried to insult each other without anyone taking any offence for that matter.  In spite of the din going on all around, this gathering was to me, to sum up in one word: nostalgic.  Looking forward to next year and I hope to see more new (old) faces showing up.

 

People can be heartless?

Is it true people are heartless nowadays?  If so, how do we explain the millions in cash and kind they collect for earthquake and tsunami victims?   Or is it institutions and organizations with rules and regulations and the necessity to define everything to a “T” that create the dilemma we’re in?

 

I’m talking about the case of the student who died while waiting for a relative to come up with RM5000 before the private hospital could proceed to save his life, here are my thoughts.

 

Is it a tragic catch 22 situation we’re looking at?  Or is it the chicken and egg?  The question begs answering: To provide emergency life-saving procedures without the deposit or red tape or look at every admission as a $$$?  Standard Operating Procedures may be necessary, but when it comes to a decision as to what constitutes an “emergency case” who can decide on that?  As soon as a doctor is called he starts charging his time, and the administration counter starts ticking.  The trouble is; people who handle the admissions may sometimes get ticked off if they made the wrong decision.  And to protect themselves they put things on hold.  Or they stick fast to the so-called rules.  If the “case’ expires at the doorstep, the admission guy may just say it’s the rules, or he may suffer the guilt of having “killed” someone because he had to follow the rules. 

 

So, the question to ask is: Is there a clearly defined condition as to what constitutes an “Emergency Case” or should it be imperative for all hospitals to alleviate pain and suffering before the question of payment is asked?  I’m not familiar enough with such things but I believe these definitions are usually not so clear cut.  Those in the profession should know better.  To save lives as well as to save the health industry from being run down to the ground by dubious cases and bad debts, the Health Ministry and private hospitals must come to terms with the conditions and find a justifiable solution. 

 

Continuing my train of thought, about SOPs being clear cut; how detail can you get to ensure the elimination of error in judgment or to prevent deviations from the procedure?  All this goes back to the human factor.  Has our rote-learning educational culture produced a breed of workers and decision makers who can’t think out of the box?  Are our people now operating without their powers of reasoning, but depend solely on operating procedures (which is what some department managers and auditors argue about when they think certain instruction manuals are not detailed enough)? 

 

As in the previous case of the naked ear-squatting issue that rocked the two nations involved, we will probably be back to arguing on the point of procedures, principles, personal responsibility, accountability leading to decision making and risk management. 

 

Perhaps it should be the top of our agenda to teach the future generations that power comes with responsibility.  And if one is not willing to accept the responsibility, then one should not be given that power.  Recent events have shown that some of those in power don’t seem to be even remotely responsible for what they said or did and instead come out with all kinds of lame or side-stepping excuses.  Maybe I forget that it is the bottom-line or the almighty dollar that dictates every decision everyone is taught to make from the moment he/she starts to learn how to think?

 

Nice sunny Sunday afternoon, but my mind is still rambling over all these issues.  Wonder if I think too much.  Any volunteered opinions?

 

By the way, I forgot to add that this is how students are taught in here: Think_only_what_I_Tell_You and they are definitely getting fed up about it.

Stories from the workplace III

 

After I quit the nightmare job in Jakarta in 1985, I returned to Malaysia.  It was a bad year for job-hunting.  But by sheer good luck, a friend of my wife told me to contact her friend, a Managing Director of a plastics injection molding factory called Exzone.  My job involved anything that came along; from product and process designing, trouble-shooting, to delivery and debt collection.  The pay wasn't enough to cover our daily expenses, but I took it.  I set up a classroom in my rented house and taught Art and English in the evenings and took on any other part time job that friends could come up with.  Those were my new friends in SP town but they willingly helped me out when they heard my story.

 

One day, after I had been with Exzone for a year, I was told to report at Euston, an American owned contract manufacturing plant.  (The owner resided in Hong Kong.)  I had, on a few occasions met executives from Euston as we were one of their vendors.  I had often wondered to myself whether I could get a chance to work in there.  I went to meet the General Manager called Andy.  He wanted me to make sketches of Euston, the people at work, the machinery, the facilities etc.  His intention was to create a brochure to promote the factory's facilities in the USA.  He wanted something unique, artistic and low cost.  He hired me for a month to do the job.  I finished the sketches in about ten days and handed them to him.  He said he'll get someone in the US to take care of the rest of the job.  I don't know till today what happened to those sketches.  I never saw any brochure either.

 

I just knew that I wouldn't be short of anything to do with the rest of the time.  While looking around the factory, I met a supervisor who was wringing her hands in frustration.  She was struggling to meet a deadline to deliver some painted toys but the Tampon-Printer broke down and she had no replacement–part available.  The replacement part had to be ordered from Hong Kong.  She asked me if I could think of something.  I took a look at the machine and realized all she needed was a wiping blade.  I asked her to find me a box-cutter blade.  I replaced the broken blade with the cutter blade after leveling off both slanted ends on a bench grinder.  It worked just fine and she completed the order without a hitch. 

 

Then she asked if I could help her with another problem.  She was short of some spray paint of one particular shade.  To order it from Hong Kong would take at least 2 to 3 weeks to arrive.  I told her to get me all the colors she had.  I then mixed a few colors together until I got the right shade needed.  This and other little problems helped make my days get by easier.

 

Euston's temporary canteen was in bad shape.  The original canteen was turned into an office after a fire burned out the factory office and store earlier that year.  Andy suggested that we built another canteen.  He wanted it built like the attap huts he saw at the beach hotels in Penang.  So we threw in whatever we got in terms of experience in building a house with nipah roof.  One morning, Andy was trying his hand at tying the nipah leaves up on the roof and he yelled, "Ouch, Shit!" 

I asked, "What's that?" 

He said, "Oh, it's something soft and brownish and smelly..."  I laughed.  He then said he poked on his thumb with the sharp end of the split rattan string. 

 

He asked me what to do if a piece of split rattan string ran out.  I said to join it with another length of string by tying it in a weaver's knot.  That way we get the smallest possible knot.  After that I kept hearing him swearing away at weaver's knots until we ran out of split rattan strings.

We did not finish even one-third of the roofing when we gave up and he called in a guy who could do it professionally.  He used rafia strings and a big needle and finished the job two weeks later.

 

Before the end of that month, Andy asked the secretary to make out a check for me.  I was told that the company's cash in the bank was in limited supply.  There was also the guy who repaired the canteen waiting to be paid.  As soon as I got the check, I said to Andy, “I’m going to the bank.”  He remarked that I seemed eager to get my money first before anyone else got it.  I laughed and said I got a wife, a 3-year-old kid and a new born baby at home.  I needed the money.  Andy followed me to the bank.  He helped me to get the check deposited into my account.  It was the first time I used an ATM card.  He followed me to the house and I showed him the new baby, our second daughter.

 

On what was supposed to be my last day, Andy said to me.  “How would you like to work for us permanently?  We seem to get along pretty well”.  I thought he was joking, especially about the 'getting along' part, but I said I'd love to.  We discussed my salary and he said I’d get whatever Exzone was paying me.  I said it would be an insult to my current boss.  He raised the offer by another RM100.  I took the job.  I was to learn later that it was a colleague, who suggested to him about taking me on.  But a few days later, before he could give me an official appointment, he resigned as GM.  I was left without a post but he told me not to worry about my job status. 

 

One day the Managing Director came over from Hong Kong.  He told the secretary that as he was walking around the factory he noticed a "Chinese guy" who was working even after everybody else had gone home.  The secretary then explained to him the precariousness of my position.  The next day she gave me an appointment letter signed by the MD which I immediately accepted.  That was August 1986.  I was placed in charge a lawn-sprinkler production line as a "Project Manager". 

 

Three months later, I had the good fortune of accompanying a colleague who wanted to ask the MD for some extra benefits, and I raised the fact that my probation was up.  He immediately promised that I’d be confirmed in my appointment.  The next day I received a confirmation letter stating that my pay has been raised by another RM350.  For the second time in my working life I was earning a four-figure salary.