Monday, January 26, 2004
THis is a continuation from the previous entry.
ANd so it was that my dad became the only member in his family with an english education. Until this day, I can't help feeling a sense of relief at my grandma's good foresight. If my dad had gone to a chinese school, he would never have landed his job in singapore, a job that gave my family a comfortable life and me the opporutnity to be a doctor. His half brothers all work for sah beh, though their jobs provide comfortably enough for their families, my cousin's opporutnites are considerbly less than mine and my siblings. As I sieved through the faded photographs of my dad and his mom, my father reminds me of never forgetting my elders. " Filial piety is an important thing, " my dad said. "I owe your Ah ma my whole life." He forebade my family to eat beef because it was against his mother's religious wishes. A lady who never let her bad circumstances mire her life, my ah ma singlehandedly raised my father, his siblings and their half-brother. She often took trips back to Singapore when I was young to visit us. I recall her sleeping in my bedroom and getting up in the middle of the night to switch of the air-con because she was afraid that I was going to feel cold. Irritated at being woken up because of the heat and utterly misunderstanding her intentions, I whined and screamed at her. Until today, I wish fervently I could have told her I was so sorry for behaving like a brat.
Being born and bred in an English speaking household, I never learnt how to speak Hokkien. My relatives often admonished my parents for bringing up "angmohfied" kids. But the language barrier never got in the way when I played with my grandmother. She was a generous lady with a good sense of fun, albeit a little stubborn. I recall her bringing me out on long morning walks and playing with me. ONe morning, I caught sight of her fiddling with a ring on her finger, which was studded by a huge ruby. Astonished at the size of the gem, I clambered onto her bed to have a closer look. She smiled at my childish curiosity, removed the ring and gave it to me. It was a gift from my grandfather, a valued gem with huge sentimental value and yet she still bequeathed it to me, a young girl who was ignorant of the enormity of her sacrifice in parting with a gift from one she whom she held dear. My father was horrified by her actions and pressed her to keep the ring, but she was adamant that I keep it.
As I grew up, my grandmother's memory failed her. It came to a time when she could not longer remember my family and could no longer make her yearly trips down to Singapore. Caught up in my own world, I failed to notice her absence. But when I returned to Penang and found that she no longer could remember my name and my face, my heart ached. She was always a part of my childhood, part of the jigsaw puzzle that was essential to my growing years and my development and she no longer recognised me. Her memory continued to detoriate and soon she couldn't even recognised my father. I remember taking her arm when helping her get to a family dinner in a hawker center. She smiled and thanked me, but even as I tenderly escorted her to her seat, I knew I simply appeared as a kind stranger to her. My grandmother was sticken by a serious of Gastrointestinal problems. And one terrible night, when I was 9, she passed on. I can still recall the terrible phonecall. I picked up the call, and heard my aunt weeping and asking for my dad. My dad picked up the call and in a stricken voice, declared ," Ah ma si liao... " ( Ah ma has passed away). I numbly called my classmate to ask her to help me take note of my homework for the next week or so as I had to go back for the funeral. But as I choked out the reason to explain my absence, I burst out into uncontrollable weeping. My shocked friend had to contend with my mother's calm explaination while she pried me from the phone receiver and laid me on the couch where I continued sobbing into the damp cushions. She never quite understood my outburst for she never knew that deep down inside, beneath all the language difficulties and the spoilt, rude attitude that she often witnessed me showing to my grandma, that Ah ma meant a lot to me. I never knew how much I loved her until she left this world. I alone was fortunate to get to know Ah ma, my sister never got to know her so intimately because by that time, her memory was so bad, she couldn't even recognise the son whom she stayed with. My brother was born after she died. She appeared to me in a dream with my maternal grandfather. I vividly recall that in that dream, I got into a car with her and my late maternal grandfather in the back seat of a car. They asked me about my plans for the future and I told them that I was going to study medicine. " Hou, hou,( Good, good.)" they smiled. Then as suddenly as they had gotten into the car, they opened the door and left. The car moved on and I turned to face the rear window and watched their figures grow more obscure in the distance.
Though she has departed her present life, her bravery and stoic nature persist in my family's life. Every object we own, every education we receive are testimonies of her unselfish sacrifices.
My dad was an active kid at school. He did relatively well in class but he ruled the sports field. He was known as "one Leg King", supreme player of the game he engaged in during recess. His athlete prowness was more than apparent as he single handedly and single " leggedly" chased and caught 10 of his counterparts ( runniing on two legs mind you.) running for their lives in the school basketball court. It is doubtless that his excellence in sports made him a real popular guy during recess. YOu never lost a game if my dad was on your team. Unfortunately, the active kid had didn't really seat well with his english teacher who had a mysterious adversion to sweaty boys. So for a couple of times a week, when her class was after recess, the boys were forced to seat through recess in order to remain nice and dry.
My dad has had his share of fistfights. THe most memorable, he recounted with a wry smile, was when he tried to help some kid from a class bully. The bully had tried to take one of the kid's cards from him by force. My dad, irate at seeing a small, helpless boy at the mercy of a glowering bully, stepped in to do the situation justices. What started as a shoving match quickly escalated into a short fistfight when the boy punched my dad in the eye. Taken aback at the change of tactics, my dad kicked the bully and they both fell, wrestling on the ground. THe fight was broken up by the teachers and the children sent home in disgrace. When my grandma saw the blackeye, explainations of herioc deeds nonwithstanding, she reached for the cane and gave my dad a sound patting on the rear end. So my dad was rewarded for standing up for his friend by a bruise on his eye and his rear end.
My dad's favourite sibling was my Godfather or my 5th uncle. He was born with a hole in his heart. So while his brother was busy running around the farm grounds, my godfather was forced to take on a more placid pace. He was a hardworking and smart boy who insisted on going to school in his weakened condition. So he rode on the back of my dad's bicycle to get to school everyday. I never got to know my godfather for he died in his teens. One day his breathlessness was so severe and they had to send him to the hospital, but he never returned home. Sad that her son would never experience the joy of being a father and having children of his own, Ah ma told my dad that his firstborn would be his brother's godchild.
ANd so it was that my dad became the only member in his family with an english education. Until this day, I can't help feeling a sense of relief at my grandma's good foresight. If my dad had gone to a chinese school, he would never have landed his job in singapore, a job that gave my family a comfortable life and me the opporutnity to be a doctor. His half brothers all work for sah beh, though their jobs provide comfortably enough for their families, my cousin's opporutnites are considerbly less than mine and my siblings. As I sieved through the faded photographs of my dad and his mom, my father reminds me of never forgetting my elders. " Filial piety is an important thing, " my dad said. "I owe your Ah ma my whole life." He forebade my family to eat beef because it was against his mother's religious wishes. A lady who never let her bad circumstances mire her life, my ah ma singlehandedly raised my father, his siblings and their half-brother. She often took trips back to Singapore when I was young to visit us. I recall her sleeping in my bedroom and getting up in the middle of the night to switch of the air-con because she was afraid that I was going to feel cold. Irritated at being woken up because of the heat and utterly misunderstanding her intentions, I whined and screamed at her. Until today, I wish fervently I could have told her I was so sorry for behaving like a brat.
Being born and bred in an English speaking household, I never learnt how to speak Hokkien. My relatives often admonished my parents for bringing up "angmohfied" kids. But the language barrier never got in the way when I played with my grandmother. She was a generous lady with a good sense of fun, albeit a little stubborn. I recall her bringing me out on long morning walks and playing with me. ONe morning, I caught sight of her fiddling with a ring on her finger, which was studded by a huge ruby. Astonished at the size of the gem, I clambered onto her bed to have a closer look. She smiled at my childish curiosity, removed the ring and gave it to me. It was a gift from my grandfather, a valued gem with huge sentimental value and yet she still bequeathed it to me, a young girl who was ignorant of the enormity of her sacrifice in parting with a gift from one she whom she held dear. My father was horrified by her actions and pressed her to keep the ring, but she was adamant that I keep it.
As I grew up, my grandmother's memory failed her. It came to a time when she could not longer remember my family and could no longer make her yearly trips down to Singapore. Caught up in my own world, I failed to notice her absence. But when I returned to Penang and found that she no longer could remember my name and my face, my heart ached. She was always a part of my childhood, part of the jigsaw puzzle that was essential to my growing years and my development and she no longer recognised me. Her memory continued to detoriate and soon she couldn't even recognised my father. I remember taking her arm when helping her get to a family dinner in a hawker center. She smiled and thanked me, but even as I tenderly escorted her to her seat, I knew I simply appeared as a kind stranger to her. My grandmother was sticken by a serious of Gastrointestinal problems. And one terrible night, when I was 9, she passed on. I can still recall the terrible phonecall. I picked up the call, and heard my aunt weeping and asking for my dad. My dad picked up the call and in a stricken voice, declared ," Ah ma si liao... " ( Ah ma has passed away). I numbly called my classmate to ask her to help me take note of my homework for the next week or so as I had to go back for the funeral. But as I choked out the reason to explain my absence, I burst out into uncontrollable weeping. My shocked friend had to contend with my mother's calm explaination while she pried me from the phone receiver and laid me on the couch where I continued sobbing into the damp cushions. She never quite understood my outburst for she never knew that deep down inside, beneath all the language difficulties and the spoilt, rude attitude that she often witnessed me showing to my grandma, that Ah ma meant a lot to me. I never knew how much I loved her until she left this world. I alone was fortunate to get to know Ah ma, my sister never got to know her so intimately because by that time, her memory was so bad, she couldn't even recognise the son whom she stayed with. My brother was born after she died. She appeared to me in a dream with my maternal grandfather. I vividly recall that in that dream, I got into a car with her and my late maternal grandfather in the back seat of a car. They asked me about my plans for the future and I told them that I was going to study medicine. " Hou, hou,( Good, good.)" they smiled. Then as suddenly as they had gotten into the car, they opened the door and left. The car moved on and I turned to face the rear window and watched their figures grow more obscure in the distance.
Though she has departed her present life, her bravery and stoic nature persist in my family's life. Every object we own, every education we receive are testimonies of her unselfish sacrifices.
My dad was an active kid at school. He did relatively well in class but he ruled the sports field. He was known as "one Leg King", supreme player of the game he engaged in during recess. His athlete prowness was more than apparent as he single handedly and single " leggedly" chased and caught 10 of his counterparts ( runniing on two legs mind you.) running for their lives in the school basketball court. It is doubtless that his excellence in sports made him a real popular guy during recess. YOu never lost a game if my dad was on your team. Unfortunately, the active kid had didn't really seat well with his english teacher who had a mysterious adversion to sweaty boys. So for a couple of times a week, when her class was after recess, the boys were forced to seat through recess in order to remain nice and dry.
My dad has had his share of fistfights. THe most memorable, he recounted with a wry smile, was when he tried to help some kid from a class bully. The bully had tried to take one of the kid's cards from him by force. My dad, irate at seeing a small, helpless boy at the mercy of a glowering bully, stepped in to do the situation justices. What started as a shoving match quickly escalated into a short fistfight when the boy punched my dad in the eye. Taken aback at the change of tactics, my dad kicked the bully and they both fell, wrestling on the ground. THe fight was broken up by the teachers and the children sent home in disgrace. When my grandma saw the blackeye, explainations of herioc deeds nonwithstanding, she reached for the cane and gave my dad a sound patting on the rear end. So my dad was rewarded for standing up for his friend by a bruise on his eye and his rear end.
My dad's favourite sibling was my Godfather or my 5th uncle. He was born with a hole in his heart. So while his brother was busy running around the farm grounds, my godfather was forced to take on a more placid pace. He was a hardworking and smart boy who insisted on going to school in his weakened condition. So he rode on the back of my dad's bicycle to get to school everyday. I never got to know my godfather for he died in his teens. One day his breathlessness was so severe and they had to send him to the hospital, but he never returned home. Sad that her son would never experience the joy of being a father and having children of his own, Ah ma told my dad that his firstborn would be his brother's godchild.
Monday, January 19, 2004
( I'll be editing this post constantly, and I will highlight additions in italics for the moment, so feel free to reread, coz it ain't completed yet. )
I was going through old photos with my mom when I got hold of a photo of dad when he was my age and on a training course in Melbourne. There he was, standing in the South Lawn of melb uni, a place where I usually had my lunch, 24 years ago. The excitment of his new surrounds, the longing for his love who was seperated by miles of land and sea, and the anticipation of the years to come were all deeply set in his benign smile. It was the start of his life away from the comfort of his family and an opportunity for exploration. I caught a glance of his youthful enthusiasm, the playful nature that all teenagers exuded in pictures. In his place, 24 years down the line, his daughter once again walks the very same grounds, pondering about her own future, going through the rigours of education and training in hopes of paving her own future like her father before her. I found myself pondering about how he felt at that point of time. Did he miss home as much as I did ? He definitely was pining for my mother cause the photo was address to her with a msg which I never got to read because she snatched it from my hands. :) Did he ride the same trams I did and hang out on Bridge road like I do? It was all rather unnerving.
His childhood was an undiscovered enigma. I always knew that my dad had a rather harsh childhood, growing up without a father and with very little money. But I never really had the opportunity and time to discover how this man I love and respect so much came to be the person he was today.
My family tree is one of the most complex and confusing structures around. I have tried, on numerous occasions, to explain it to friends but most of them just give up trying to understand me. My grandfather was a village headsman ( I think) in the village of Anxi, in Fujian, China. At that time, the Communist were trying to draft the village men into the army and it was my grandpa's duty to enlist the men in the village. But hard times made it impossible to tear the menfolk away from their improvisished families and their land which had been wrecked by years of war and civil strife. Disenchanted with life, and feeling the guilt of having to seperate friends from their loved ones, my grandpa decided to go overseas to seek his fortunes and give his family a better life. Biding his wife and 4 children farewell, he sailed to Malacca to seek his father, who had set up a rice trading business. After working with his father for a few years, grandpa moved his business to penang. He rented a room in a crumbling shophouse on Beach Street. Occupying one of the rooms of the shophouse was my grandmother, who was newly widowed with her son and living with her husbands family who stayed in the very same shophouse. And so it was that this dilapidated and dark shophouse on the narrow street became the backdrop of my family saga.
My grandfather fell deathly ill from overwork as he struggled to set up his business. My grandmother was at that time working as a washerwoman to make ends meet. But despite her heavy workload, she took on the responsiblity of nursing my grandpa back to health. And as they say, the rest is history. He fell in love with her, a hardworking, brave girl left alone in the bustling island town of Penang with the death of her husband. He decided to marry her and repay her kindness by giving her back the security of a family life that was tragically wrenched from her. But there was one hiccup, his wife in China had gotten wind of the news and wasn't too happy about her husband taking on another wife. Armed with her children, she made her way down to Penang to try and dissuade him. I wondered out loud how it was possible to love two women at one go and still keep the household bickering to a minimum. My dad replied that his father ruled the household in a no-nonsence, typical china man fashion. Everyone was kept in their place, checked by a strict command and their dependence on his role as the sole bread winner of the family. Both women also held their peace because of their common love and affection for their husband. Grandfather explained to his wife that he had married my grandmother not only because he loved her, but because he owed his life to her. Upon hearing this, my step grandma's hurt and jealously melted into a grudging gratitude for my grandma. ANd as time went by and she settled into the house, the two women grew to love and respect each other as sisters and they remained close for the rest of their lives.
My dad was born into a household with numerous siblings. 4 boys from my step grandma and 3 boys and a girl from my grandma. In addition, his mother's first husband's family was also occupying the same premises and he called the children in the other family "brothers and sisters" out of respect. He was a born sportsman and spent many days running around his father's farm grounds. ON one occasion, he was being chased by his half brother and he ran straight into a pond which was disguised by numerous lily pads. For one moment he was merrily racing around, and the next, he was wondering where the ground had disappeared to. LUckily his half brother ran for help and one of his other brothers pulled my dad, sputtering and drenched, out of the pond.
HIs father died when my dad was at the tender age of 7. One night, after the family had a hearty meal, my grandpa settled into the chair in the living room to read the papers when he suddenly stiffened and fell out of his seat. He died of a heart attack at the age of 50 odd, leaving behind a large family. My uncles were working as labourers and had to fend for their own families. The task of raising the large household fell onto the shoulders of my 3rd uncle or sah Beh as we called him.
Sah Beh was a man in his late twenties who worked alongside his brothers as a labourer. But behind his well muscled and tan exterior lay a determined head and a shrewd business mind. He was denied a formal education but his intelligence helped him pave the way to financial success. He started an egg business. He began selling eggs, lugging the crates on foot. His money was divided among his halfsiblings who were still at a tender age and his mother and step mom. From there, he bought himself a bike and increased his sales. Slowly, agonisingly, he clawed his way up the social ladder. He built himself a business empire selling furniture and eggs and he took care of his family. Even till today, he is the father figure of the Tan family and my dad looks up to him more than any other member in his clan. I recall his words when I told him I was going to med school. Instead of the usual gushing about my ability, he looked at me and said ," It is good that you have the opportunity to help people, but when people cannot afford your services, you should still help them all the same. " His words lay the deepest impression on me. He was a man of wealth, but he never forgot his humble beginnings.
Even though his brothers and sister have grown up , he still looks after everyone. THe whole family helps him run his business. When my family returns to Penang, he takes it upon himself to ensure that we have a place to stay and a car to use. Queerly enough, he seemed to take a liking to me, though I saw him like once a year and couldn't speak a decent sentence of hokkien, something he would always berate my father about. He often invited me to seat with him and my father in his private room and there, he would unfurl pages of our family history. With a lots of help from my dad, I managed to make sense of his Hokkien, thick with a mainland chinese accent. He would often remind me of the need to understand and remember my roots. He would take my family to the Tan clan house to pay our respects to our ancestors. And there, he would proudly point out his children's photographs which hung among those who graduated from universities. "One day," he told me. " You could be up there. Keep working hard. "
My grandma had been adamant about putting my father in an english school. My grandfather had been aghast by her decision. He was a Chinese, he would never allow his son to be educated in a foreign language. But my grandma was firm. " All your children are chinese educated, " she pleaded. " Why not try one in an english school. " Seeing my grandfather's resolve wavering, she tossed her trump card. " He's the youngest and your last son, there is no harm in trying something different."
I was going through old photos with my mom when I got hold of a photo of dad when he was my age and on a training course in Melbourne. There he was, standing in the South Lawn of melb uni, a place where I usually had my lunch, 24 years ago. The excitment of his new surrounds, the longing for his love who was seperated by miles of land and sea, and the anticipation of the years to come were all deeply set in his benign smile. It was the start of his life away from the comfort of his family and an opportunity for exploration. I caught a glance of his youthful enthusiasm, the playful nature that all teenagers exuded in pictures. In his place, 24 years down the line, his daughter once again walks the very same grounds, pondering about her own future, going through the rigours of education and training in hopes of paving her own future like her father before her. I found myself pondering about how he felt at that point of time. Did he miss home as much as I did ? He definitely was pining for my mother cause the photo was address to her with a msg which I never got to read because she snatched it from my hands. :) Did he ride the same trams I did and hang out on Bridge road like I do? It was all rather unnerving.
His childhood was an undiscovered enigma. I always knew that my dad had a rather harsh childhood, growing up without a father and with very little money. But I never really had the opportunity and time to discover how this man I love and respect so much came to be the person he was today.
My family tree is one of the most complex and confusing structures around. I have tried, on numerous occasions, to explain it to friends but most of them just give up trying to understand me. My grandfather was a village headsman ( I think) in the village of Anxi, in Fujian, China. At that time, the Communist were trying to draft the village men into the army and it was my grandpa's duty to enlist the men in the village. But hard times made it impossible to tear the menfolk away from their improvisished families and their land which had been wrecked by years of war and civil strife. Disenchanted with life, and feeling the guilt of having to seperate friends from their loved ones, my grandpa decided to go overseas to seek his fortunes and give his family a better life. Biding his wife and 4 children farewell, he sailed to Malacca to seek his father, who had set up a rice trading business. After working with his father for a few years, grandpa moved his business to penang. He rented a room in a crumbling shophouse on Beach Street. Occupying one of the rooms of the shophouse was my grandmother, who was newly widowed with her son and living with her husbands family who stayed in the very same shophouse. And so it was that this dilapidated and dark shophouse on the narrow street became the backdrop of my family saga.
My grandfather fell deathly ill from overwork as he struggled to set up his business. My grandmother was at that time working as a washerwoman to make ends meet. But despite her heavy workload, she took on the responsiblity of nursing my grandpa back to health. And as they say, the rest is history. He fell in love with her, a hardworking, brave girl left alone in the bustling island town of Penang with the death of her husband. He decided to marry her and repay her kindness by giving her back the security of a family life that was tragically wrenched from her. But there was one hiccup, his wife in China had gotten wind of the news and wasn't too happy about her husband taking on another wife. Armed with her children, she made her way down to Penang to try and dissuade him. I wondered out loud how it was possible to love two women at one go and still keep the household bickering to a minimum. My dad replied that his father ruled the household in a no-nonsence, typical china man fashion. Everyone was kept in their place, checked by a strict command and their dependence on his role as the sole bread winner of the family. Both women also held their peace because of their common love and affection for their husband. Grandfather explained to his wife that he had married my grandmother not only because he loved her, but because he owed his life to her. Upon hearing this, my step grandma's hurt and jealously melted into a grudging gratitude for my grandma. ANd as time went by and she settled into the house, the two women grew to love and respect each other as sisters and they remained close for the rest of their lives.
My dad was born into a household with numerous siblings. 4 boys from my step grandma and 3 boys and a girl from my grandma. In addition, his mother's first husband's family was also occupying the same premises and he called the children in the other family "brothers and sisters" out of respect. He was a born sportsman and spent many days running around his father's farm grounds. ON one occasion, he was being chased by his half brother and he ran straight into a pond which was disguised by numerous lily pads. For one moment he was merrily racing around, and the next, he was wondering where the ground had disappeared to. LUckily his half brother ran for help and one of his other brothers pulled my dad, sputtering and drenched, out of the pond.
HIs father died when my dad was at the tender age of 7. One night, after the family had a hearty meal, my grandpa settled into the chair in the living room to read the papers when he suddenly stiffened and fell out of his seat. He died of a heart attack at the age of 50 odd, leaving behind a large family. My uncles were working as labourers and had to fend for their own families. The task of raising the large household fell onto the shoulders of my 3rd uncle or sah Beh as we called him.
Sah Beh was a man in his late twenties who worked alongside his brothers as a labourer. But behind his well muscled and tan exterior lay a determined head and a shrewd business mind. He was denied a formal education but his intelligence helped him pave the way to financial success. He started an egg business. He began selling eggs, lugging the crates on foot. His money was divided among his halfsiblings who were still at a tender age and his mother and step mom. From there, he bought himself a bike and increased his sales. Slowly, agonisingly, he clawed his way up the social ladder. He built himself a business empire selling furniture and eggs and he took care of his family. Even till today, he is the father figure of the Tan family and my dad looks up to him more than any other member in his clan. I recall his words when I told him I was going to med school. Instead of the usual gushing about my ability, he looked at me and said ," It is good that you have the opportunity to help people, but when people cannot afford your services, you should still help them all the same. " His words lay the deepest impression on me. He was a man of wealth, but he never forgot his humble beginnings.
Even though his brothers and sister have grown up , he still looks after everyone. THe whole family helps him run his business. When my family returns to Penang, he takes it upon himself to ensure that we have a place to stay and a car to use. Queerly enough, he seemed to take a liking to me, though I saw him like once a year and couldn't speak a decent sentence of hokkien, something he would always berate my father about. He often invited me to seat with him and my father in his private room and there, he would unfurl pages of our family history. With a lots of help from my dad, I managed to make sense of his Hokkien, thick with a mainland chinese accent. He would often remind me of the need to understand and remember my roots. He would take my family to the Tan clan house to pay our respects to our ancestors. And there, he would proudly point out his children's photographs which hung among those who graduated from universities. "One day," he told me. " You could be up there. Keep working hard. "
My grandma had been adamant about putting my father in an english school. My grandfather had been aghast by her decision. He was a Chinese, he would never allow his son to be educated in a foreign language. But my grandma was firm. " All your children are chinese educated, " she pleaded. " Why not try one in an english school. " Seeing my grandfather's resolve wavering, she tossed her trump card. " He's the youngest and your last son, there is no harm in trying something different."
Sunday, January 11, 2004
Laughing all the way to the bank
Ok, maybe I"m not really laughing all the way to the bank. I'm crawling there. LIke my mom pointed out, once you started working, all you wished for was to go back to studying. With a bit of luck and a recommandation by lz ( thanke gal!) to call up an employment agency, I landed myself a relatively well paying job at TLL , a tuition center ( or as they liked to put it, an enrichment center)
I was totally unprepared for the first day, being calle dto the job a mere 3 hours before I was supposed to start.l I was clad casually in a blue top and some khakis. OH BOY. i looked like a fish out of water amidst a backdrop of neat looking people in executive suits. Wait.. i thought this was a tuition agency. So I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the furtive glances that the others were shooting in my direction. DM, my supervisor, immediately piled me with a messy pile of papers to sort and file. Then she yanked me out of the room halfway through my sorting and gave me another job, soon after, she did it again. At the end of the day, I was exhausted and left with a whole accumulated pile of half done assignments. No one reallly talked to me and I was feeling rather lonely and awkward. Thank goodness the money was good.
On day 2, I was clad slightly more appropriately. More jobs were dumped on me. And I had to go overtime to finish some of them. Most people still ignored me in the corner of the room. I was too tired to try to make more friends.
On day 3, I started chatting up with a new temp R. One of my colleagues treated teh whole office by cooking Lontong for us. I also moved my workstation temporarily into the MIS room where the hub of the IT management was. The conversations that flew across the cramped room perked me up. The guys were utterly hilarious and they had teh room in a throes of laughter as they exchanged vibes. I had to make phone calls to check the details of students. Relief from parting with my mundane data entry task quickly turned into despair as I encountered some sharp tongued, irrate parents who had already informed the center about changes many months ago. We had to send out a a thousand plus bills to the studnets. So DM called for more temps and guess who came in.? HH!!! Whhhhheeeeeeeee..! We spend the afternoon checking endless bills , adding up numerals , folding the letters and popping them in envelopes. Just as we were finishing the lot in the evening, marc strode into teh room looking very frazzled and ordered us to halt. There had been a mistake and we had to rip out the letters and start from scratch. We were too tired even to moan. I started my day at 9am and I ende dit at 9pm. I think that's agaisnt the labour laws, but I looked like shit and felt like it and simply coudln't give a damn.
Despite the earlier hiccups and misgivings and the endless piles of data entry and filing to be done, I grew to love the job. The people were nice, supervisors hardly talked down to the other employees. The env was pretty cheery, except when the boss walked the floor. I got to go to ikea with my old friend CCG and shop for office furniture, I got to work that nifty looking thermal scan and direct the traffic of kids. I got to dress up and look like an exacutive. and on top of the list.. i get to earn $$ ( KER CHING!!!)
Ok, maybe I"m not really laughing all the way to the bank. I'm crawling there. LIke my mom pointed out, once you started working, all you wished for was to go back to studying. With a bit of luck and a recommandation by lz ( thanke gal!) to call up an employment agency, I landed myself a relatively well paying job at TLL , a tuition center ( or as they liked to put it, an enrichment center)
I was totally unprepared for the first day, being calle dto the job a mere 3 hours before I was supposed to start.l I was clad casually in a blue top and some khakis. OH BOY. i looked like a fish out of water amidst a backdrop of neat looking people in executive suits. Wait.. i thought this was a tuition agency. So I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the furtive glances that the others were shooting in my direction. DM, my supervisor, immediately piled me with a messy pile of papers to sort and file. Then she yanked me out of the room halfway through my sorting and gave me another job, soon after, she did it again. At the end of the day, I was exhausted and left with a whole accumulated pile of half done assignments. No one reallly talked to me and I was feeling rather lonely and awkward. Thank goodness the money was good.
On day 2, I was clad slightly more appropriately. More jobs were dumped on me. And I had to go overtime to finish some of them. Most people still ignored me in the corner of the room. I was too tired to try to make more friends.
On day 3, I started chatting up with a new temp R. One of my colleagues treated teh whole office by cooking Lontong for us. I also moved my workstation temporarily into the MIS room where the hub of the IT management was. The conversations that flew across the cramped room perked me up. The guys were utterly hilarious and they had teh room in a throes of laughter as they exchanged vibes. I had to make phone calls to check the details of students. Relief from parting with my mundane data entry task quickly turned into despair as I encountered some sharp tongued, irrate parents who had already informed the center about changes many months ago. We had to send out a a thousand plus bills to the studnets. So DM called for more temps and guess who came in.? HH!!! Whhhhheeeeeeeee..! We spend the afternoon checking endless bills , adding up numerals , folding the letters and popping them in envelopes. Just as we were finishing the lot in the evening, marc strode into teh room looking very frazzled and ordered us to halt. There had been a mistake and we had to rip out the letters and start from scratch. We were too tired even to moan. I started my day at 9am and I ende dit at 9pm. I think that's agaisnt the labour laws, but I looked like shit and felt like it and simply coudln't give a damn.
Despite the earlier hiccups and misgivings and the endless piles of data entry and filing to be done, I grew to love the job. The people were nice, supervisors hardly talked down to the other employees. The env was pretty cheery, except when the boss walked the floor. I got to go to ikea with my old friend CCG and shop for office furniture, I got to work that nifty looking thermal scan and direct the traffic of kids. I got to dress up and look like an exacutive. and on top of the list.. i get to earn $$ ( KER CHING!!!)
Saturday, January 03, 2004
A BAll of a TIMe
I knew it was a mistake the moment I laid eyes on the rest of the guests . It all started by my poor dad being forced to accept an invitation to my cousin's concert.
" Of course, you'll need a formal dress," said my 3rd uncle excitedly as he jammed a gaudy looking batik shirt into my dad's hands. Dad put it again himself and looked at us miserably. The colours of the shirt were simply out of this world.
Dad felt even worst when he found out his 6th brother was planning a surprise birthday party for his sister.
Formal dress? hmmmmmm.. the last time we were invited to my cousin's concert, we were dressed to kill and everyoneelse looked like they were going to the beach.
So the afternoon saw us hurrying thru the mall next door to clad ourselves in the appropriate gear, or so we thought. As usual, we were late for the event and we were met by my 3rd uncle who was pacing impatiently in the hotel lobby. Hmm.. I spied a bevy of dolled up females in elegant gowns disappearing into the elevator but I didn't give it a 2nd thought.
The moment we stepped out on the 2nd floor, we were frozen in horror. Everyone was decked out as though they were ready to go for their high school prom. My gaze fell onto our attire. I was wearing a cotton halter and my giodarno pants, my mom was in a red top and a skirt with mocassins and my sister ( horrors of all) was in a denim mini and white tshirt. Well.. presentble enough for an afternoon tea event I guess, but I think we should have just stayed in the elevator for this dinner. We all tried to squeeze behind my father ( who looked presentable).. but being the chubby females we were, the act was without much success.
I scanned the seating arrangement while trying to appear nonchalent. What I saw did little to improve our initial shock. I thugged at my sister's sleeve and pointed wordlessly to the seating... The press, the chief minister.. the big companies.. I couldn't locate the words.. " unknown underdressed family" anywhere. Oh well, guess they left us out. My dad caught me creeping towards the elevator and directed me into the ballroom where I was greeting by a skinny, miserable looking santa , minus white beard, who wrung our hands with his sweaty palm and wished us a merry Xmas.
I took my seat next to this stuffy looking excutive lady who was eyeing my outfit with distaste. My cousins-in-law, clad in a gorgeous black evening gown, came to greet my parents. I was squirming uncomfortably in my seat by the time the dinner started. I thought that perhaps the toilet would be a better place to spend the night, but it became clear that my outfit was the object of curiosity in the toilet while my counterparts waited to use the loo. So I returned to my seat and tried to cover myself with my napkin.
The arrival of the guest of honour was heralded by my cousin WT leading a line of violin prodigies into a latin song. THe theme, i had realised, was a latino christmas. The evening started off with a big bang ( literallly) . And so came course after course prepared by the top chefs in penang.. song and dance. I had braced myself for a miserable evening of cantopop ( which i hated and did not understand) but it immensely enjoyable. I watched WT lead teh penang symphonic band into familiar english pop songs. His brother WG then came onto the stage with his pop band and ( to my relief) burst into ricky martin tunes. It was amusing to watch the 2 brothers perform together on stage. ONe dude was clad in a tux and wielding a conductors baton, cutting a dashing figure on the stage. The other, was in a rather punky top and was prancing around the stage singing and rocking on his electric guitar. Both were as different as night and day, but one thing was certain, they were extremely gifted in music. Determined as we were not to enjoy ourselves that night, my sister and I could not help but admit that the evening yielded more charm than we expected. The songs were all the latest english hits, and the dancers were so infectious, I was tempted to get up and start grooving myself. But my dad remained brooding in his seat, thinking about his sister's birthday party that he was missing.
After 2 hours of glitzy dance and song sequences( complete with transversite prancing around), my dad received a call from his bro.
" They're waiting for us," he whispered. my family slid out of the room just as they were bringing in the Xmas Log cake.
Only when we had reached the tea house did my dad snap out of his brooding mood. The smile on my aunt's face as we sang her the birthday song, was probably the best thing that evening.
I knew it was a mistake the moment I laid eyes on the rest of the guests . It all started by my poor dad being forced to accept an invitation to my cousin's concert.
" Of course, you'll need a formal dress," said my 3rd uncle excitedly as he jammed a gaudy looking batik shirt into my dad's hands. Dad put it again himself and looked at us miserably. The colours of the shirt were simply out of this world.
Dad felt even worst when he found out his 6th brother was planning a surprise birthday party for his sister.
Formal dress? hmmmmmm.. the last time we were invited to my cousin's concert, we were dressed to kill and everyoneelse looked like they were going to the beach.
So the afternoon saw us hurrying thru the mall next door to clad ourselves in the appropriate gear, or so we thought. As usual, we were late for the event and we were met by my 3rd uncle who was pacing impatiently in the hotel lobby. Hmm.. I spied a bevy of dolled up females in elegant gowns disappearing into the elevator but I didn't give it a 2nd thought.
The moment we stepped out on the 2nd floor, we were frozen in horror. Everyone was decked out as though they were ready to go for their high school prom. My gaze fell onto our attire. I was wearing a cotton halter and my giodarno pants, my mom was in a red top and a skirt with mocassins and my sister ( horrors of all) was in a denim mini and white tshirt. Well.. presentble enough for an afternoon tea event I guess, but I think we should have just stayed in the elevator for this dinner. We all tried to squeeze behind my father ( who looked presentable).. but being the chubby females we were, the act was without much success.
I scanned the seating arrangement while trying to appear nonchalent. What I saw did little to improve our initial shock. I thugged at my sister's sleeve and pointed wordlessly to the seating... The press, the chief minister.. the big companies.. I couldn't locate the words.. " unknown underdressed family" anywhere. Oh well, guess they left us out. My dad caught me creeping towards the elevator and directed me into the ballroom where I was greeting by a skinny, miserable looking santa , minus white beard, who wrung our hands with his sweaty palm and wished us a merry Xmas.
I took my seat next to this stuffy looking excutive lady who was eyeing my outfit with distaste. My cousins-in-law, clad in a gorgeous black evening gown, came to greet my parents. I was squirming uncomfortably in my seat by the time the dinner started. I thought that perhaps the toilet would be a better place to spend the night, but it became clear that my outfit was the object of curiosity in the toilet while my counterparts waited to use the loo. So I returned to my seat and tried to cover myself with my napkin.
The arrival of the guest of honour was heralded by my cousin WT leading a line of violin prodigies into a latin song. THe theme, i had realised, was a latino christmas. The evening started off with a big bang ( literallly) . And so came course after course prepared by the top chefs in penang.. song and dance. I had braced myself for a miserable evening of cantopop ( which i hated and did not understand) but it immensely enjoyable. I watched WT lead teh penang symphonic band into familiar english pop songs. His brother WG then came onto the stage with his pop band and ( to my relief) burst into ricky martin tunes. It was amusing to watch the 2 brothers perform together on stage. ONe dude was clad in a tux and wielding a conductors baton, cutting a dashing figure on the stage. The other, was in a rather punky top and was prancing around the stage singing and rocking on his electric guitar. Both were as different as night and day, but one thing was certain, they were extremely gifted in music. Determined as we were not to enjoy ourselves that night, my sister and I could not help but admit that the evening yielded more charm than we expected. The songs were all the latest english hits, and the dancers were so infectious, I was tempted to get up and start grooving myself. But my dad remained brooding in his seat, thinking about his sister's birthday party that he was missing.
After 2 hours of glitzy dance and song sequences( complete with transversite prancing around), my dad received a call from his bro.
" They're waiting for us," he whispered. my family slid out of the room just as they were bringing in the Xmas Log cake.
Only when we had reached the tea house did my dad snap out of his brooding mood. The smile on my aunt's face as we sang her the birthday song, was probably the best thing that evening.
