Ugly People

It was on the night of Thursday last, just after dinner, that I went out to a store close by to purchase bread and beverages. Therein, an episode unfolded that was oddly disturbing:

The store manager was clearly busy, since he was also the cashier and there was a small queue of customers waiting to be served. Despite this, he tasked his assistant to mop up some condensate that had accumulated near the refrigerators, thereby removing the latter from another counter, which might have helped to thin the crowd. This was the point at which I found myself paying a bit more attention at the pair than I usually would. To be brutally honest, I was thinking "What a dumb ass!" at the manager. The condensate was not hurting anyone, and like the others in line, I was beginning to get impatient.

At this time, a deliveryman entered, laden with a box of perishables. They were clearly for the renewal of stock for the store, and he promptly replaced the old stock on the refrigerator shelves with them. He then turned to the assistant and asked the latter to acknowledge the move. The assistant demurred, as it was the manager's duty, and beyond his salary-grade. The deliveryman then approached the counter and asked the manager to append his signature. The manager, being bogged down with customers, simply told the man to wait. Which he did.

After serving two more customers, which took approximately ten minutes, the manager still showed no sign that he was going to attend to the deliveryman. The assistant, in the meantime, had completed his task and was putting away his mop. The deliveryman, clearly frustrated with the delay, turned to the assistant and asked if the manager was always this slow. The assistant merely smiled and replied that the manager liked to do some things on his own. Then he returned to his own counter.

The manager gave his assistant a rather significant look at this time, and handed over the work to him. He then went and dealt with the delivery in what I can only describe as a curt and reluctant manner. The deliveryman, his work done, hurried outside with nary a backward glance.

Now, it so happened that the manager and his assistant were from different ethnic groups, and the deliveryman had spoken to the assistant in a dialect that was unknown to the manager. What transpired thereafter only served to fix in my mind just how pathetic the manager was:

Ignoring the customers that were lining up in front of his assistant, the manager demanded that he tell him just what had been said by the deliveryman. The assistant, who was half-way through a customer, was taken aback and barely fumbled through the rest of his work. The manager appeared oblivious to the rest of queue, and continued to pester the assistant, instead of taking up his own post as I expected him to. It was only when the assistant waved a hand at the queue, that the manager took the hint and went back to his counter. Even then, he persisted in his interrogation of his assistant, across the distance between them, in a loud and irritating (to me) fashion. By this time, I had reached the head of the queue, so I concluded my business quickly and left. Even as I was walking out the door, the question was still going on.

Perhaps it is my job, that has shaped my thinking: the work is more important than one's feelings. The work is more important that one's need to demonstrate one's authority over another person. The quality of the work must not be compromised.

Perhaps it is the way that I have been educated: if you cannot take the criticism, you should make sure that your work is above criticism. If you make a decision, take the consequences that come with it.

Perhaps it is my oriental upbringing: smile, no matter how hard the going gets. If one must berate someone, do it in private; public displays of anger results in loss of 'face' for both the one doing the scolding as well as the one being scolded. And show no emotion in the face of adversity.

No matter how I look at it, that store manager was one ugly person.

Substitutes

Strangely, I am in a rather good mood today.

Strange, because I have a seriously heavy schedule today.

Lagi strange, since the weekend is around the corner and that's even more hectic than work-days.

What can possibly account for my jolly-jolly-happy buzz?

The rapidly-depleting bottle of gummi-bears on my desk? Have to eat them up now that I've exposed them to air. They'll get sticky (and icky) otherwise. Chew, chew, chew. Gulp.

The stockpile of 'back-up rations' chocolate in the second drawer of my desk, conveniently located close to my right hand? Oops, expiry date approaching. Better finish them up and get a new stash. Ah! The dark stuff! Munch, munch. Yum.

Lunch time? Yes, it's approaching. But I'm an adult; I'm entitled to ruin my appetite!

Sugar high? Maybe. But it won't stop me from enjoying it while it lasts.

Joy has a sweet tooth.

Joy is a sweet tooth.

Going Home

The strains of Suzanne Vega's Luka is playing in the background now, as I find myself suddenly gripped by an incomprehensible melancholy. It is just one of those periods of my life that can only be described as a black mood.

Is it the music that brings out the dark cloud, or does the shadow make me gravitate to these songs? I cannot answer, nor do I care to make the attempt.

Sigh.

Gatherings

It is strange how people believe that the year ahead is going to be better.

Of late, I have had the opportunity to meet with friends from three different periods of my life:

I had a small gathering at my home last weekend, an annual affair that has become somewhat of a tradition. Though this is only the second time that it has been held at my home. And, also becoming part of that tradition was that I prepared too much food again. Sigh. Fortunately, I am quite practised at dealing with leftovers. Those who came were from my University days, and were friend to both my wife and I.

After the meal, we sat down and engaged in the usual catching up. Whats, whens, hows and whos were tossed from one to another like a talking ball at a Organisation Learning Forum, as we sought to make sense of how our lives had diverged. As the conversation progressed, I was struck by how contented most of us were. And how we were looking forward to better things in the year ahead.

Some weeks before, I was at another gathering. This time, those present were from my Secondary school days, though many spouses were there too. Due to the last, there were some memories that could not be shared. Not that it mattered greatly, for we imbibed significant amounts of alcohol and were adequately pickled before we engaged in conversation. And a fine time was had by all. None of us, it appeared, had shared any troubles apart from the usual gripes against our neighbours. All seemed to have some inkling as to where their futures were going. And all appeared to be pleased with what they saw.

A little further back, before the mad rush to prepare for the Holy Day, the Corvidae gathered. And as custom dictated, we fed ourselves well, and made up for the lack of alcohol by consuming significant amounts of caffeinated beverages instead. The conversation was lively, and we dwelled not too much on what we had left behind us. Rather, we made plans to meet more frequently, and perhaps even resurrect an ancient game that we had laid to rest a good while ago.

Strange how all this optimism seemed to be contagious.

The year behind us has been a bit of a roller-coaster ride for me, truly. Work was hectic and oftimes, chaotic. Time was hardly on my side and the demands of raising a precocious daughter surprised me to no end. Oh, there were many pleasant memories made in running after my energetic scion, make no mistake. But there were times I wished I could just collapse.

I have been exhausted to varying degrees by the time I finally hit the sack, and there have been occasions when I questioned the purpose of my existence. Despite this, I must admit that I still feel a sense of hope, especially when I am surrounded by my friends. It is you who show me that work is not all there is, that sturm und drang shall pass, that talking about troubles eases the heart, that laughing about our children's antics keep us young, that the brainless idiots that cross our path deserve all the barbs we hurl at them, that it is worth our effort to be more gracious and that life itself is often its own reward.

So to everyone who has shared my days upon this earth, whether you know it or not, thank you. It has been an entertaining time indeed.