A letter
Monday, March 27th, 2006I know I had not been myself for the past few days. I’ve committed suicide, written an obituary, and completed my will.
Today is a whole new day. I woke up, collected the laundry my maid left outdoors while sulking and cursing 76 times. As soon as the last shirt was hung up in the airwell, rain fell like…whatever.
Then I rinsed my new bought clothes yesterday/ To all guys having maids out there - never let maids handle expensive clothes such as BritishIndia or Camel. They either melt the fabric by ironing too hot, or misshape it by not wringing the clothes dry enough.
I waded through 4-inch of rainwater, carried an umbrella and hop into the 7-11 opposite my house. Bought ‘The Star’, Koko Krunch and some milk. I scheme through The Star and found this life-saving artical. I called up JPA and asked about ‘my letter’. Well, not boasting, but I was told I am shortlisted. I was generally satisfied about the service, and was confident about Abdullah’s government restructuring program.
11.30, Still no letter. Before that I called up IJN (Institut Jantung Negara) and asked about my Medical Report, which costs RM100. I called up AFS-Antarabudaya Malaysia and asked about accreditation of my exchange program certificate. I was given sufficient information and assurance for both of my calls, and again I was confident of how Malaysians can be reformed in customer service.
11.55, still no letter. I called up JPA again, and this time the woman who answered was impatient, agonised and used sorta hey-i’m-late-for-lunch attitude to soliciate with me. I argued, in a good-natured way.
11.58, the breadmaking machine signal sounded again, and I ran to attend to it. Just as I was about to set my hands on the puffing loaf of bread, I heard a quintet sequence of horn and someone shouting outside. My letter’s here. I dropped everything I’m holding and wearing (my windbreaker, it’s cold today) and ran to the door. The stupid postman left, but he’s still within eyesight. I shouted ‘hey, tunggu! Datanglah ni!’ He stopped, came back and said I got selected for NS.
I was a little annoyed and babbled my IC number away for him, not caring if he got it completely or correctly or not, grabbed my letter and went indoors.
12.00, I knew why lots of people are missing their mails, cos PosLaju is supposed to be real PosLaju, they come, horn 5 times, count to 3, and went off again. If you’re 2-seconds late, sorry-lah, we’ll come again tomorrow. And as PosLaju is really meant to be laju, they don’t have ‘you’ve got mail!’ cards for you.
So I would like to dedicate this blog to so many friends who cared for me, including one who’s willing to be my ‘partner’ in future. Thanks to all you guys and good luck to everybody.
JYSim, March 06′