Friday, August 29, 2008

Father's Love

Let me share a story...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who finished 3rd in class when she was in Standard 6 and as a result, dad had a golden question for her, "Now tell me, what can I reward you for your excellent results?", The girl had all along wanted to join her friends roller-blading at a nearby park but unfortunately, she did not own a pair of roller-blades at that time. So, she quietly blurted out from the corner of her lips, "Can I have a pair of roller-blades?" Dad's instant reaction was, "Great, we shall go shopping for a pair of roller-blades for you soon!" Too ecstatic by t he news, this girl had her smile from cheek-to-cheek plastered on her face for the rest of the day.

Along came the special day, finally it was THE day for the girl to go shopping with dad for a pair of roller-blades. She is thinking in her heart, "Not long before I hit the blading rink with all the other kids!" Dad specially took a day off work to accompany his precious daughter to shop for the ideal pair of roller-blades. All this girl wanted was a pair of roller-blades which had its tiny wheels in one line and a pair that fitted her feet. Being 12, she suggested that they start off at Toys"R"Us because she had had her eyes on them for the longest time. She knew exactly which aisle to run down to and had her eyes fixed on a pair of pink one (admittedly quite childish looking). She was also very considerate for her age as she didn't want her dad to spend a fortune on the gift. This pair that she saw, was tagged at $120-00 and she thinks to herself, "perfect!", hoping dad agrees to it to. She just stood there, smiling at that pair of blades on display like a child craving a lolly for being good. Dad carefully walked down the aisle, inspecting each pair of roller-blades, doing his homework in learning what is good and what is not. After staring at the little beauty for all about 15 minutes, she felt nervous as her dad has not shown any indication of making a purchase. Without even trying, dad dragged the girl out of the store saying, "These roller blades here are made for children! You are having a pair that does a good job or nothing at all!" Sulking with disappointment, the girl thought to herself, "I don't think I'll be joining the rest of the girls at the park this weekend afterall, doesn't look like dad's convinced in getting me a pair. Is $120-00 too expensive? Maybe this is just too big of an ask!"

Still sulking, dad and the girl entered a sports shop which carried all the branded sporting gears. Dad looked, while the girl stood quietly in the corner, trying to be at her best behaviour. Dad started engaging in conversation with the sales assistant while I look on. He told the sales person, "My daughter finished 3rd in class, I promised her I'll get her a pair of roller blades, so we are shopping around." They even got into the teachnical parts of the blades which I never even heard of. They sales person introduced us to numerous brands and briefed us on the differences and the what-nots of different makes. I stood there, pretended to listen, as all I wanted was a pair of blades that would let me blade like other girls. In my heart I hated this guy for blabbering non-stop to dad. Stop it already! As predicted, they continued on.

Waiting anxiously, finally dad is happy with one particular brand and he's given the green lights for this guy to bring a pair in the girl's size so she can have a go at it. Dad asked her which pair she wanted to try out of the range in this brand. She pointed at the marroon pair. Had them on and loved them. As dad looked at his girl standing up pretty wobbly in the pair of blades, it suddenly triggered another question, "I don't think this pair is good enough girl, the wheels cannot be changed!". The girl replied, "But I don't care dad, as long as I can go to the park in them!". Dad almost ignorning what the girl's response, asked the sales person to bring them through a selection roller-blades with changeable wheels. And he did as told. Dad picked out a metallic blue one and asked if his daughter liked them. The girl politely replied, "They are too expensive dad!". Dad again ignored her had asked for the appropriate size so that the girl can try them on. After fitted them on, she looked so proud as if to say she was flying in the air.

Dad looked impressed by this pair, but the girl was concerned when she saw the price tag of $380 marked on it. She knows she doesn't need such an expensive pair as she is no expert of any sort and merely wanted it for hobby's sake. When dad was about to make payment, he suddenly remembered of something too enormously important to forget, "What about safety guards? You know this kind of things are very dangerous and if she falls, which she more than likely will, she will leave scars on her skin. I don't want to buy her something that will leave her scars. Moreover she's a girl, she cannot have scars all over her, can she?" Sales person acknowledged and showed dad all the safety equipment available in the store. Dad picked out the most expensive, which also means thickest of thick paddings for a wrist-palm guard and a knee guard. Dad even wanted to pick out a pair of helmet, but the girl just wouldn't agree to it. So in the end, it was the pair of blades, wrist-palm guards and knee guards. All packed and paid for. Before the girl left the shop, the sales assistant made a comment that made her feel overly guilty. He said, "You are one very lucky girl, for your dad to spend so much money on a pair of roller blades for a beginner like yourself!" Shy and blushing was I, I left the shop with a smile that never left my face for the longest time.

The girl was me. This had happened more than 10 years ago, but I can remember each moment of it ever so clearly. I was so touched that my dad took my interest so seriously, and mean every word he says. I'm not trying to show off or to tell the world that I own a pair of expensive roller blades. What I am trying to express is the genuine, fatherly love only a father shows. My dad is well known for being very careful with his money but yet whenever it comes to me, everything has to be nothing less than best! He had given me so much over the years that I feel so honored and proud to have such loving and generous parents. I have always told my parents, should there be a next life, I don't want to be born to parents who are more famous, much wealthier, or better looking, I simply want these two back as my parents. The love that is shared in our family is extraordinary. Nothing too special, but these two parents just keep constantly giving the very best to their ability to their daughter. For this I honor them and I thank them from the very bottom of my heart!

Love XOXO
MichelleC~*

Glamorous Work Station


Welcome to my new work-station! Currently being demoted to the archive room in the dungeon...Boring, filthy, dusty, smelly, and all sorts of descriptions to fit a room filled with nothing else but files! Oh, wait a minute there was also a step ladder, boxes for storing files temporarily, and other marketing materials. So much for work place health and safety!

I have spent majority of 2 days filing and archiving students files from last year. My body is starting to ache now, not to mention the cuts all over from those stupid metal fastener and staples! If you have not experienced working in an archive room, it's seriously not funny at all! Reaching up high, bending down low...looking at names to sort them in alphabetical order, after a while all you see is just *^#%$@&^#*#&$*^&%@^#%^*$&!! If I see another student by the family name of WONG, I will drop dead! I just could not believe there are so many WONGS in a semester!

Thank your lucky stars if filing/archiving is not part of your very generous job description!


Sorry guys, yet another boring work post.

p/s: John's coming back from New Zealand tomorrow...hopefully he will help me stay sane! ;)

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Michelle Officially HATES HER JOB!


It has been made official, I HATE MY JOB!!

Let's take a stroll down my mundane full time job as a Senior Enrolments Officer (the glamorous title) aka All Rounder Admin Shit Taker (the real job description)...

0900 --> Arrive at work, log on to the computer and click "send and receive" on outlook (this will determine how well the rest of my day goes)...on a good day, I'd only receive 2 emails, which one is from mom (yay!) and the other from another ordinary full-of-demands client (boo!). On a bad day it could easily add up to 10 emails from dangerous-strangers!

0930 --> Clicking on "send and receive" again to hopefully receive a reply from my mom. But rest assured more emails will start pouring in at this time.

1000 --> Spend some time searching for a student's file among all the hundreds of the other students' files (yes, due to some person's incompetent capability in filing, this has become almost a daily routine for me!).

1030 --> Assess Applications (which merely means screening results of students to make sure they have met the correct requirements for entry into our programs.

1100 --> Start to warm up the printer as I start issuing offer letters for students.

1200 --> Scan all offer letters onto my computer and start sending very-polite emails to agents advising application statuses for their students.

1300 --> Boring data entry...all applications/offers have to be entered into the system so that other staff can have access to students' information.

1400 --> Most exciting 30 minutes of my day at work...LUNCH TIME!! *WooHoo*

1430 --> Hit "send and receive" again, yet again crossing my fingers that mom replies or entertains me with some happy news from home.

1500 --> Start the ball rolling again...same old shit of what I do from 1100 - 1300.

1700 --> Clocking off for home sweet home!

Mind you, in between my "normal" mundane duties I will still need to do some MORE mundane jobs like filing all because of an honorable statement from the boss, "Michelle, I would prefer that you be the one transferring all the past students files into the archive room because I don't trust that she will be able to file them in the correct order!" (WTF, again, eating someone else's shit!). I also have been given the honor to eves drop on telephone conversations, "Michelle, can you make sure you listen in on all her telephone conversations, because I don't think she's very confident on the phone!". I must also double check all the letters she generates because, "Michelle, can you please make sure all letters she created be checked before leaving the office? I cannot have more mistakes from this office floating out of this office anymore!" Gee, am I being punished for being too capable or what?!?!?!?!?

I have been so pissed that I have came up with this great temporary solution. I told my boss, "I will not talk to her anymore unless necessary because I don't want to distract her from her work which may then cause more mistakes and more clean-ups on my bahalf." My boss' reply, "That's a great idea!". I am so pissed that I cannot find the pleasure to speak to her anymore. Each time I speak to her, I wanna ask her this question, "Woman, do you ever learn?!?!?!?!??!" I know I sound nasty, wait till you work with her and let me know if you can tolerate all these punishments as a consequence of an incompetent colleague.

That is it...the final draw, I am officially pissed and this will be the end of my career in the admin world! And I bloody mean it! It is a shame because initially I quite like the routine of this job as there is not much stress involved and a super-uber nice boss, but these days there is not one day I come home without thinking how bloody unfair this really is!

On a lighter side, my ever-sweet boss cooked me tea for dinner. She baked lasagna last night and she brought me a container full for dinner. She had it packed nicely in a container with my name written on a post-it note tags on the container and then sent me an email letting me know that she had my dinner ready for me in the fridge! This sort of very kind boss only comes once in a lifetime, I reckon! She said, "I know John cooks your tea, now that he is away in NZ for work, we have to make sure you are eating healthy, Michelle!" Isn't she sweet? Yes, she is...

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I'm not happy

I'm usually pretty tolerant at work. Seldom complain and seldom bring my burden from work away from work. These days the wind must have changed directions and I have been buggered with shit from work! Now, can someone tell me what is the logic behind being hardworking, responsible, reliable and consistent at work? One should be rewarded, right? Now I'm feeling the opposite! I have been sharing an office (and workload) with a colleague who is very young and immature. She is blur, inconsistent, has memory like a sieve, doesn't show initiative, doesn't take things seriously and slow. I don't mean this in a nasty way at all or have any intentions in putting myself on the pedestal. I'm just being honest, this person just does not have what it takes to keep an office functioning, and there is nothing wrong with that. Everyone is made differently, and we all just have to accept it as it is. It's coming up to 8 months now, after being in a company for 8 months and yet unsure about the products sold by the company is ridiculous! Worse than that, this person doesn't know how to even file in alphabetical order (*faint*). We, or at least I have tried so damn hard, bending over backwards to make things easier for her by spoon feeding her, setting up templates for her, explaining everything in a detailed manner, writing and highlighting information, composing step- by-step guidelines...still apparently, we have to give her a second chance by starting from afresh as a new slate!?!?!?!?!?!? WTF?!?!?!??!? 8 freaking months and still we have to babysit her?!?!?!?!? Not we, but I!! Because of her incompetency, I have been instructed to cross check her work, explain everything to her patiently and in detail, take over her work which requires interaction with external parties!! I'm furious!! Is this world unfair or what?!?!?!? Just because she is incompetent and I am, I have to cover her back, eat her shit and be at the firing-line?!?!?!?!? Fucking ridiculous!! How come people who are not pulling their weights get protected and sheltered where as people who work really hard get more shit on their plates?!?!?!?!? One person working as one and a half is not fair...as much as I've been told how much I'm being appreciated, I don't think it works this way...

Now you choose, either she gets fired or I'm gone!

That brings me to the question: Is it worth the while for being competent at work?!?!?!?!?

Monday, August 18, 2008

Few secrets revealed...

Michelle still adores Hello Kitty as much as she did when she was 6!!

















Michelle lives with a sadistic guy who finds pleasure out of vacuum packing soft toys!













Michelle has a very bad habit of collecting paper bags (but sadly they will all have to be abandoned as we are moving and apparently there will not be space to accommodate the pretty but useless paper bags!).










Michelle has a collection of expired chocolates as a consequence of their cuteness, they look to good to be biten, let alone digested...












Michelle recently went horse-riding for the first time in her life and was extremely proud to think that she got along pretty well with horses...at least she did not end up in a puddle of muddy-mud!















Michelle has a pet bunny (it's illegal in Queensland, nevertheless she managed to smuggle one in with her!).

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Just a thought

I am a Malaysian. A very proud one I must say, ask John and he will tell you I am so very Malaysian in so many ways. Unfortunately (or fortunately) this very-Malaysian is dating a non-Malaysian! Not just any n0n-Malaysian but a Malaysian rival --> Singaporean! These Singaporeans are so proud of their country and so supportive of their government which makes me quite envious at times. I wish my country would practise equal opportunity and fair-go like our neighbouring country. Unless in my dreams, I don't think these thoughts would come to realisation in the real world.

Lately, I've been receiving emails regarding Malaysia as a country for all but the wrong reasons, which truly is quite embarrassing and upsetting. This morning I received yet another email along the lines of racism. This is disgusting, outraging and horrifying to know! To know that the country I love is openly practising racism and unfair dismisals in public; as if to say we don't need all you second-class citizens contributing in our country! It saddened me to think that all along I was led to believe that I was appreciated as a citizen, and when we sang the national anthem together, we were one! Clearly this is a myth, isnt't it?

I then remembered one of my friends who was torn between Malaysian and Australian PR a while ago. Because she was like me, so "patriotic" and so "proud" to be a Malaysian. She thought if she rang the department of immigration in Malaysia, they may have mercy on her patriotism and would make an exception for the idea of dual-citizenship or even just a Malaysian PR visa. She was totally disgusted by the outcome of the telephone conversation that she applied to change her citizenship on the same day! She found out that as long as you are not practising the national religion, you are not welcome in Malaysia as a visitor, let alone a citizen! I was gobsmacked when she revealed the news to me that and my jaw dropped in shock! I knew all along I'm classed as a second class citizen back home beacuse of the colour of my skin and my religion, but I never knew they were so brutally blunt about the whole issue! This made me think...is the big G trying change the country into a one-race country? Will they be able to run the country without the help of us second-class citizens? What about "semangat perpaduan"? Different races living happily under one roof?

I must say I love my country, not so much the happenings in it but in general, I love the place I grew up and the friends I made in my country which makes me proud to be a Malaysian! I could change my citizenship if I like, but I can never change where I was born and the value instilled in myself all these years. It's sad but I think when it comes to the crunch, unless my beloved country shows some greatfulness for what my ancestors had contributed to the country generations after generations, it would be a very easy decision to chuck away the red passport and have it changed to a navy blue one!