Questa è Enida

I sent a birthday wish to a friend whom I have not been in touch with for at least five years. Wished her Happy Teachers Day as well. Text aku berbunyik cam ya: “Salam Ms X. Happy Birthday and Happy Teachers Day. Panjang umur, murah rezeki and happy always.” Signed, me.

Her response was:
Tqvm

After five years and one birthday wish, I was left wondering if I am not worth of a “How are you?” text. Mmm…tqvm lah kan.

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
‘If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning.’

2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
‘You better pray that will come out of the carpet.’

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.
‘If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!’

4. My mother taught me LOGIC.
‘Because I said so, that’s why.’

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.
‘If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.’

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
‘Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.’

7. My mother taught me IRONY.
‘Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.’

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
‘Shut your mouth and eat your supper.’

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
‘Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!’

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
‘You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.’

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER.
‘This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it.’

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
‘If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times. Don’t exaggerate!’

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE.
‘I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.’

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
‘Stop acting like your father!’

15. My mother taught me about ENVY.
‘There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don’t have wonderful parents like you do.’

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.
‘Just wait until we get home.’

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING.
‘You are going to get it when you get home!’

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
‘If you don’t stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that way.’

19. My mother taught me ESP.
‘Put your sweater on; don’t you think I know when you are cold?’

20. My mother taught me HUMOR.
‘When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t come running to me.’

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT.
‘If you don’t eat your vegetables, you’ll never grow up.’

22. My mother taught me GENETICS.
‘You’re just like your father.’

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS.
‘Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?’

24. My mother taught me WISDOM.
‘When you get to be my age, you’ll understand.’

25. And my favorite: My mother taught me about JUSTICE.
‘One day you’ll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you.’

I wish I could have the decency to wait a day or two before I write this. I wish I had the will to see the other side of the coin. But I can’t, I don’t and I have no intention whatsoever to be nice or to say it nicely today. I am roiled in anger and I don’t want to make any effort to hide it.

The people who run Mr. Rizal Kerepek Pusat Bandar Damansara stall are a pile of pillocks. Here’s the story morning glory:

Left home at 0630 – earlier than usual – and got to the office parking 0700. Walked straight to Mr. Rizal Kerepek stall right across from Indah Water to get Kerepek Pisang (Banana Chips) for my brother’s rewang next week. I asked for 20 packs at first. The guy could only pack 15 in one big carry bag. So I thought, okay…give me another bag of 15 then. Make my day! (RM6.00 per pack).

The guy couldn’t find the basket of more kerepek pisang, so he asked the older lady (a makcik who looked like in her early 70’s) whom, I assumed, runs the whole stall. She was surprised I wanted to buy a lot. And she said NO. No to 30 packs! I was nonplussed, to say the least. But I thought I heard her wrong. She took no time to make herself clear when she said, “Kesian nanti orang lain datang kerepek pisang dah abis. Tak buleh beli banyak. Lima belas buleh lah kot. Tu pun banyak.“

My eyes must have jumped out of their sockets and landed on the kerepek table. And my jaw could not have dropped any lower than the fourth floor basement parking this morning! The makcik mumbled another line or two to the other customers who were shopping for kueh there. I heard her well. “Kesian orang yang datang beli hari-hari ni kang datang nak beli kerepek pisang. Kita kena simpan lah untuk orang lain kan.” She wasn’t looking at me when she said this. In fact, she was looking at other customers, nodding her head as though looking for their accord.

So I asked her and the guy if all the kerepek packs were ‘reserved’ for someone else, then. None of them answered me. But the makcik asked me to place an order, instead, to get those chips in bulk like that. It was my turn to say no. What’s the point of getting there so early if I still had to wait? I stood my ground, giving them the ultimatum: 30 packs or NONE. The makcik said, “Tak pa lah, tinggai kat orang lain lah. Untuk orang yang datang harian ni. Tapi kalau nak 15 buleh lah kot.” She repeated herself.

“Macam mana berniaga macam ni ni makcik? Saya nak beli banyak ni bukan pakai credit card, nak bayar cash ni pun makcik tak mau?” I said politely, still trying extremely hard to understand the rationale of her decision. I mean, I was ever so ready to spend RM180 to even RM240 in no time at all. As it was, I made the decision to get 30 packs (instead of 20) in split second. I didn’t ‘mmm’, ‘uhhh’, ‘errr’ and ‘aaa’ about it. I obviously had no kasian for my wallet.

Just like the makcik, I had two options. To take it or leave it. And like almost any other decisions in life, it was a matter of choice. My decision was with an intention to make the makcik aware of hers. To learn that her ‘kesian’ could come with a cost. I had cost her up to RM240 in one second. One minute would have cost her RM14,400. An hour loss would be RM864,000. I left her to count her loss. Now, kasian who?

Kasian the guy who packed me the bag of 15 packs of Kerepek Pisang. Pity him for not having the courage to make a wise decision and overwrite the makcik‘s . I am off to Shah Alam this weekend to get the So-Never-Again-Mr. Rizal kerepeks.

I am out of job but not out of work.
The company I have been working with since August last year has come to the end of her rainbow. Initially, I took it as an embarrassment. But hey, I should be proud. At least to say that I stay loyal to her last breath. And I gained one of the greatest experiences ever in my career – to have trained the first batch of McDonald’s Customer Service Managers. I had fun. These coming couple of weeks, I will be finishing off, and cleaning up with work at APCC and off to a new ground.

The facelessness of Enida goes way back to the very first entry of Questa è Enida. But it seems like netizens are now able to put a face to the name. So much for being faceless, and thanks to Facebook. I shouldn’t say I have not been warned. A few friends have uploaded pictures of Enida taken not only way back when Tok Kaduk was still a baby, but also recently (when Tok Kaduk fossil has just been discovered in a mouth of a spinosaurus).

And so, I have to face up and face it. Or shall I say face down?

I have been amazed with translated terms, especially the IT and internet-related jargons. (So amazed have I been, sampai tak sempat nak update blogs – waarggghh, alasan!) The best geli translation award of course lah has to go to the term jalur lebar. I mean, hello, broadbanders-broadbanders sekalian! Why not? Everytime I TERbaca the term jalur lebar, (note the TER usage here, tak sengaja okay) what comes to mind is…all the jalurs one usually have on one’s pyjamas. And being pyjamas as all pyjamas should be…undoubtedly lebar, dok?

Hint of the post:
I’m in my pyjamas right now, enjoying my newly-connected Celcom Broadband. Lebar my sengih ni ha.

I was putting on my mascara the other day, getting ready to look presentable, to face up and to face the world, to go to work…when Kitreena asked me a rhetorical question.

“Mom, are you putting that thing on to make your eyeslashes look longer?”

I gave her an almost nod and an insincere smile.

“You mean…” (she starts her every other sentence with “you mean…” these days), “you are trying to make them look longer than MINE?”

My jaw dropped. I didn’t know there was a competition.

Kitreena came to my room to check on my temperature on a Tuesday some two weeks ago. And I was laying down helplessly at 40˚C. She was caressing my tummy, and looking up at the ceiling checking if my temperature could go as high.

“I’m warm.” I said to her.

“No. You’re not warm, Mommy. You’re hot.” said the smart cookie.

She looked at me with a little naughty smile on one corner of her lips and said, “You, hot chocolate!”

Huh? Where did she get that? But boy! I felt so hot-chocolate-CUTE for many days!