Questa è Enida

Be and I were jusssssssstt chatting about the annual news here in Malaysia – Malay kids losing fingers lah, terburai tali barut tali perut lah, playing with bunga api and mercun during Raya season. Tengok-tengok Mak Andeh dah blogged about it that very afternoon. And I was just telling Be that last year when I was back here without him, I did go and buy some bunga api in Kajang. Alah, the ones with the belang handles and let out a lot of smoke tu.

I had lots of fun playing those bunga api with my elder sister berdua. Apparently, my family was having a lot more fun watching our gelagat – two thirty-something women ketawa sampai tak cukup napas mengingat all those kelakar incidents many years back in our lives. We were very much ‘deprived’ of all the so-called fun back then. Of course we kicked and screamed about it. I cried one whole afternoon when Dad wouldn’t let me buy the metal-handle bunga api cap kepala kucing hitam. Even with my OWN saved pocket money! Boy! Did I ever cry!

But I am grateful to Mom and Dad for depriving us of those bunga api then. My siblings and I have survived these many years with all our fingers, toes and tali perut in tact. Well, maybe we were not as creative as some kids, stuffing carbide into metal pipes or what not. I am still thankful that our parents went bolayan and didn’t care at all if we were not creative that way. Kids are kids. That’s why I sneered at the comment made by parents (whose son made it to the annual statistics this year), that they did not know how and where the boy obtained the bahan-bahan membuat bunga api sendiri. Yeah right! Lepas tangan.

I don’t read FW emails.

Except for those between my hubby and his lawyer. So, if you are not my hubby or his lawyer…don’t even bother sending me FW emails. They go straight to my Deleted Items folder. When I am looking for specific information, I will personally LOOK for it WHEN I need it. I know how to use those search engines, thank you very much. Gerhana bulan ke, gerhana matahari ke, gerhana dalam jiwaku ke, total eclipse of the heart ke. You don’t have to bersusah-payah looking for it on my behalf.

If I (ever) want to look at charred bodies ditemui mati ketika mencuri kinda pictures, I trust Google Malaysia must have loads. So, toksah lah menyusahkan diri spending your time on your slow server sending them to me. I am not interested in giving more glory to those charred bodies yang ditemui mati ketika mencuri or meragut or whatever they enjoyed doing when they were people…not just bodies.

And if you believe in justifications made by some pihak who think they have the power to decide what’s halal and what’s not halal, keep that belief to yourself. Mountain Dew tak boleh minum lah, Brahim’s Rendang tak halal lah, Farmland chicken sausages ada pork lah. You think your sawi you put in the meehoon goreng berbuka yesterday contained no baja taik babi kah? Haiiyaahh! You think the coffee and tea you drink got only halal baja in it ah? Kalau nak kaji sampai ke akar umbi…well, I betcha, you might want to think twice before you touch your sabun mandi.

The bottom line is, I don’t read FW emails especially those with information I don’t need. I decide on what I do with my emails and my time reading or deleting them. Now that YOU know I don’t value your time sending them to me, stuff them somewhere else. Hopefully I won’t see your pictures as charred bodies ditemui mati ketika sibuk memFW emails yang tak de kena mengena dengan dirinya sendiri mahupun dengan the people the emails being forwarded to.

I went to One Utama Mall again yesterday. Two days in a row. Is it a good mall or what! This time we parked on the 3rd floor and when we went down the escalator, lo and behold…there was the ARENA store as big as it ever got! So on our way out – I am not going to nyenyenye about shopping at Jusco supercrowdedmarket today – I made a stop just to give my luck another try.

Yes they did have size 24. So I thought I should just go back to Parkson Subang Parade and return the size 22 and try my luck in getting refunded for that. Should come back to that Arena store and purchase a 24. But I got carried away and ternyenyenye to the salesladies there about my very suey experience lah with Parkson OU.

Two three salesladies listened to my nyenyenye and one of them offered to call Parkson (Arena) promoters to get Kitreena’s swimsuit exchanged. I could NOT believe it! I mean, finally, when I got a real customer service at a store I did not even make a purchase at…uh, haaa, er, ummm! What do I do? I was flattered and flabbergasted all at the same time. I forgot I was in Malaysia for a moment.

So, I left Kit’s size 22 swimsuit with those nice ladies yesterday and went back to OU Mall today – to make it three days in a row – to pick up a size 24. I am home now with guess which size 24 the blasted Parkson gave me? The one that had a stain on the sleeve of course! How did you guess eh?

Ah well, I just washed the swimsuit. The stain came off and guess who’s laughing?

This is actually what I wrote on Yahoo Messenger to my lil sis this morning to mengadu domba. But then I thought, hmmm…it is a story in itself, I might as well cut, paste and post. Here:

I went shopping secara solo last week and bought Kitreena an Arena swimsuit kat Parkson Subang Parade. At home, cuba punya cuba, juuuuust fits her now. Pakai pool diaper nampak lah sendat sket. So, saya cuba lah nak tukor kat Parkson OU on Saturday. You’d think all Parksons are Parksons lah kan. Zaapppppp! Wrong!

I went to Arena department Parkson OU, saleslady tu mulanya ok je sebab I didn’t tell her upfront that I bought mine at Parkson SUBANG PARADE. But bila dia siap tanya siapa yang served me…huh? I thought, what difference does it make? Dan apakah the relativity theory nya di sebalik soalan itu? So I told her that I bought it at another Parkson only two days earlier. “Ohhhh!” she said, “Tak leh tukar sini, kena pegi balik Subang Parade sebab the bill is over there.”

I know for sure Subang Parade Parkson tak de size 24 (I bought size 22), while Parkson OU tu did have the size 24. I was even willing to amik yang ada stain kat lengan pun swimsuit tu, and kasik dia my size 22 with all the tags in tact, no stain-stain one. Nope. She said “Cannot lah, can’t help.” So I said not a word more. Gave her a sigh and shook my head, kasik balik dia punya treasured size 24 Arena swimsuit yang ada stain on the sleeve, took back my size 22 and walked away.

The thing is I had expected that to happen. But my problem is I always give these business people here the benefit of the doubt, and I’m always willing to try and see. Sudahnya saya jugak yang kechiwa. But seriously…what is so hard about exchanging an item when it is already paid for? The price-tag and info-tag are all in tact, the receipt is at-hand-in-hand, and we are talking about the same bloody items (only differ in sizes) and the same bloody outlets!

No!
If it’s too easy, it’s impossible! Many Malaysian businesses agaknya just enjoy doing it the hard way. If the consumers’ rights are vague, and the information about these rights are not easily accessible to them…hey, let’s screw them silly consumers lah! If they complain, print on the receipt in the smallest font possible that goods sold are NOT returnable, exchangable, refundable. Muahahahahaa!

And again, seriously…how and where do I get information on my rights as a consumer here ah?

Kitreena’s first day at playschool!

She has been so lah ready to go to school, that last weekend was hell! That much, I tell you. Took her for a ‘tour’ to this Buzzy Bee montessori Thursday last week and she just loved it. The next three days she woke up, went to bed, ate meals, went potty pun thinking about nothing but school.

So today, she went in with Aunty Principal…not even looking back at me to say bye-bye. I stood at the door for about 30 seconds – in AWE! I didn’t know whether to say “Wow!” or “Awwww!” Left the school yard feeling…uh, a bit detached (mind my awe-full lack of better word). My baby don’t need me no more.

It was a good thing that I had a job interview to attend in Damansara. Not knowing how the traffic was going to be like, spare time was definitely not on my wrist-watch. But this post is not about me. Later on that.

I made it right on time for Kitreena’s pick-up (12.30) but…it took me at least 20 minutes before I could get her into the vehicle! She did NOT want to come home! That was how ready she had been, I guess. I took that as a very good sign – my detached feelings aside, that is.

Went to see STOMP performance at Istana Budaya. It was good. I mean it was GREAT! My problem was that, I went in with a very high expectation. My mistake, really. I was hoping that the group would play at least ONE very well known song using whatever they were using. They made good beat, don’t get me wrong. They outdid themselves. But just like I said, I was looking for that something extra-special, or maybe something plainly “ordinary” that the audience could identify with. Playing a beat of ‘Lambada’ or ‘Conga’, for example…using those brooms and trash cans.

One single song would have done it. Or would that be too much? I’m not a very easy gal to please, am I?

Bibik arrived safe and sound tadi sore. My personal gratitude to Mr Helmi – whose assistance in getting Bibik’s papers through the custom check first (in front of the other fifteen domestic helpers standing in line), made it a much shorter wait. By 8pm, after landing quarter to 6, Bibik and Kitreena were already walking hand in hand.

Mine was in Be’s and the other…counting my blessings.

I finally successfully opened a Maybank account today, after a thorough interrogation at the entrance. With my unemployed face, aka muka pompuan tak keje, I ‘replayed’ what happened previously. That was…I used the same script.

Yang bagusnya, the lady at the entrance remembered HER lines as well. She asked me the very same questions I was asked the last time – all in perfect order! Like, whether I was employed, where I stayed, and the works. This time she even improvised her questions, she asked me my PURPOSE of opening a savings account at Maybank.

Well, I proved the adage lah kan. That a stoopid question begets a stoopider answer. My answer was, “Because I have money and I would like to save some in a savings account so that I would not spend it all.” And gave her that ‘now-do-I-pass-the-test-or-not?’ look. She went hehehe not like that lah Ma’am.

I actually had made an online registration to open an account earlier, like I was told to. And I was given the instruction to go to the branch I selected…to finalize the paperwork. And so I did. But the lady at the entrance said that, “Oh, all the online registration data goes to our headquarters and we don’t have it here.” Huh? What was that supposed to mean? That they didn’t have a way to retrieve my data online – from their KLCC Branch? What a crappy system! That was the funniest joke I had ever heard. But, boy! Was I not laughing.

I had the online registration Reference Number right in my hand and she was basically saying that it has no meaning to them. I could not believe I was dealing with THE biggest and the best bank in Malaysia at that moment. Pancung kepala pun sumpah I wouldn’t believe it.

But anyway, the lady asked me if I had my passport with me to open an account – she was going to make a deal lah kiranya so that I could still open an account. Why do I need a PASSPORT to open an account? Not only do I have to have a job, now I have to have a passport? I truly felt like I was going to pengsan in disbelief there and then! I do not haul my passport around, but I do have my ID/IC…I said.

“Oh, are you Malaysian?” she asked. I didn’t know whether to take that as an insult or compliment. I must have looked like a Filipino or Nepalese to her. No offense. Or maybe I simply looked like a maid – a pregnant and unemployed maid. How could that be?

To cut the already long story short, she asked me to come back Monday next week. I said, “No, I am not leaving until I have a savings account opened. Thank you very much.” I refused to be treated like I was going to apply for a loan. Even loan applicants are not treated that way, I am sure. Cakap kasor nyer, bukan aku nak duit engkau! Aku lagi nak menyimpan – which is to their advantage to invest. Lagi mao bising! Bangsat ke haper!

But nah, I was ‘nice’ all the way. The lady gave me the ‘let-me-check-our-customer-appointment-list’ excuse and if the customer who was supposed to come at that hour cancelled his appointment, she would slot me in. “Kita ada customer waiting ni.” To which I gave, “You are not treating me as a potential customer here, lady! For God’s sake, I am about to open an account with this bank.” Sambil saya terkelip-kelip kat situ, still in disbelief lah kan.

I was given a form to fill in and about 20 minutes later the lady came to me asking if I had been at the KLCC branch before.

I showed her the Manager’s letter.

I just realized I wrote over-the-counter in the last part of my last post. I actually meant counter service. Over the counter tu bunyik macam nak beli ubat tak yah prescription je! Muahahaha! Tu lah dia kalau dah terover-over nak mengomplen. Over and out!

I was told by a family member the other day that ever since I came back to Malaysia, all I have done is complaining. Uh! I didn’t realize that, quite frankly. I guess she was right. Itu tak kena, ini tak betul…and I have been nothing but too idealistic. My expectations have been unrealistic. Well, not that I am trying to justify it now, but I guess since I am here – home – I have nothing much to miss. Miss, as in long for.

When I was away, I remembered home the way I wanted to. All rosy, all wangi, all bau bunga. So I longed to come home, I missed all the good things about home, and I forgot all the bunga taik ayam that came in the package. (By the way, my brother-in-law, Neil, educated me that bunga taik ayam’s real name is Lantana when I saw plenty of them in Atlanta and called them Chicken-Poop Flowers. Lantana is a nice name, eh?)

And so I kicked and screamed and complained. And in the same time I tried hard to change things around here. Perhaps because I have seen better things out there and I wanted the best for my home. And perhaps I tried too hard, pushed too strong. I wanted people to look at things the way I see things, I guess. Not that I haven’t been tactful in doing what I did, though. I concsiously tried to be very tactful. I bit around the bush, I asked those ‘mukadimah’ questions, I tried to be pleasing.

Nevertheless, I have come to a painful realization that I am different. I do things differently and I think things through differently. Does that make me less Malaysian? I don’t think so. But Malaysians do things…again, differently. Just because I am home I cannot expect that I can come in without knocking on the door and saying a brief hello or salam and having a small talk at the door and waiting for an invitation to come in. I can NOT.

I am, by all means, an insider who had taken herself outside for years and taken herself back home. But no matter how ‘inside’ I think I am, those years have turned me into an outside insider. It’s okay to stand outside the window looking in, the people inside know me and recognize me as one of them. But I am not allowed to come in.

Maybe not now. Maybe not yet. Maybe not at all. Time will tell.