After a good night sleep at The Beverly, we were ready to hit the road again for the fourth house and final visit with my dad’s old friend. On the way down from the third floor, Monchies and I shared the elevator with a couple and their toddler. I wasn’t so much in my friendly mode, but I wasn’t grumpy or anything. I was just quiet. So were Monchies.
.
We could hear the couple’s conversation loud and clear…
Wife: Kita tak bagi dia tips sepuluh ringgit lah bang. Dia okay jugak kan?
Hubby: Ha’ah. Tapi dia tu Filipino. Bukan orang sini tu. Filipino tu.
Wife: Oh ye ke.
Hubby: Nama dia Mary ke apa ntah.
Wife: Ohhh nasib baik tak bagi.
.
As I was checking out after the couple left, down came Mary with her cheerful smile making some jokes in Mandarin with the cleaning staff and reporting a few things to the Bangladeshi receptionist in Bahasa Malaysia. Mary sure looked a bit different from a typical Malaysian Chinese. Regardless, she was very bubbly and warm.
.
It was just too bad that Mary looked like a Filipino.
.
And she did not get a ten-ringgit tips because she was supposed to look like a Malaysian? I felt sick to my stomach! Not only from the couple’s body odour that I had to endure in the elevator. But from their prejudice towards others judging only from their look! If I were to judge based on the couple’s smell, they were as good as rubbish.
.
If.
.
.
Questa è Enida 
Back to reading your stories. 🙂