Thursdays with batik

Thursdays are batik days for male civil servants. We are encouraged to wear the wax-and-dye attire, whose origins - like the Rasa Sayang song - have sparked heated debate between Malaysia and Indonesia.

Since joining the civil service, I've grown to love batik, although I only own two pairs (the third one has since been discarded). Good batik is pricey. I can get two decent long-sleeved working shirts during sales for the price of one batik (which is hardly discounted, even during the sales period).

But the comfort of not wearing a tie and not having to tuck in your shirt make it all worth it. And somehow, it's more "cooling" too. I can also wear batik when working on weekends - when jeans, khakis or tees can come across as somewhat informal for certain events. And whether you need to attend a Malay, Chinese or Indian wedding reception, you can almost never go wrong with batik.

And speaking of Malay attire, I put on a songkok last Thursday. That's because I followed the boss to a briefing which involves a Sultan on some Ministry-related matters. As royal protocol dictates, one must wear a songkok and a dark suit (not batik) on such occasions. (By the way, the songkok originated from India, but unlike the batik, so far there is no diplomatic row over the headgear.)

Anyway, my 3½-year-old son who saw me with the songkok a day earlier, said I "look like a boss". I have no inkling where he formed such ideas.

Toilet Break

I need to walk quite a bit to get to the common toilet in my office. With the air-cond temperature set quite low and me downing several cups of coffee a day, the walk to the loo can be quite a chore.

Sometimes, we are tempted to use the washroom in the Minister's room, simply because it's much nearer. The only access is through the boss' work area. Needless to say, we can only use it, if at all, when the boss is not in.

Like today, I left my chip-embedded name tag at home. Without the ID, I could not get out of the office area to get to the common toilet, which is located near the lifts.

I have always had this phobia about using the VIP loo at the wrong time. Sometimes, my imagination runs wild thinking that after being done with the toilet business, I would bump into the boss, who makes an unscheduled trip back to the office.

And in between wiping my hands with the handkerchief, hair nicely combed and the running WC water still audible, I would be too dumbstruck to explain what I am doing in the boss' room.

Ah... no reason to let such nightmarish ideas get the better of me. It's time to flush out such thoughts by NOT using the toilet in the first place.

&*#^!$ call on a Monday morning

Someone called the office this morning to ask about an event taking place next year. Here's the gist of the conversation:

Caller (with fake English accent): Good morning. There is this (XXX) transportation conference taking place next year.

Me: Ok, cool. This is the one the Minister is going to officiate right?

Caller: Yes, he is. You are the Special Task Officer. So, you are involved in planning for public transportation, right? It'd be great if you could come along.

Me: Yes, I usually follow the Minister for Ministry-related events.

Caller (sounding excited) : Great. We have this early-bird discount. Now, here's how it works...

Me: NO, I am not going to attend the conference proper. I'll just be accompanying the Minister, that's all.

Caller: Ohhh... (silence). Errr, if that's the case, lemme check with.... errr (rummaging through some documents) Mr Ong.. Tay.. Keart. Thank you.

What a way to start a Monday morning.... And I have no inkling how someone who doesn't quite know the Minister's name intend to get in touch with him.

Fire-fighting

It's bloody exhausting fighting fire. It is, it is, it is...

Of late, my boss has come under intense media scrutiny over some decisions he made. I am not here to discuss the merits of what he has done. But each time the media put him under a microscope, it feels like a tonne of bricks just came crashing down on my shoulder.

All of a sudden, your stress level rises exponentially. Each and every news item need to be thoroughly scanned. Sometimes, a reaction is warranted. The worst is dealing with those who already have preconceived notions about certain issues and who simply refuse to open up to any other opinions except their own.

All these sap your energy and even rob you of the ability to think clearly, although these are qualities you need in abundance during fire-fighting. This round, I was slightly scorched.

But a friend on Facebook offered consoling words: "just let it (the current issue) burn la. sooner or later, it'll burn out."

Beep-beep...

Few can live without a mobile phone these days. That ubiquitous contraption has evolved from being a status symbol to a necessity faster than any invention.

I own a Nokia E61i - huge by ordinary standards but it has served me well for over a year now. Of late, I notice that I treat the device - which I oh-so-adore only a few months ago - as somewhat of a nuisance. And it's not only me who feel the same. At least one of my colleagues share the same sentiments.

The reason? We have all been inundated with calls and SMSes, due to the boss' recent elevation. They range from congratulatory messages ("Your boss is the besttest!!...") , suggestions ("You tell your boss this is how to save the planet..."), or complaints (no example for this one, haha). Naturally, I also received calls and SMS-es from journos ("Who ah will he appoint as sec-gen?" was a common one).

I believe many of these calls and short-messages were made and sent out of sincerity and without malice. But being at the receiving end of the avalance of communication at a time when your workload has also increased sharply truly tests one's patience. And of late, that virtue is running thin, not only in me, but also my wife who has to put up with a phone which can't tell the difference between office-hour and family time.

In the office now, here is one common reaction among aides every time our phone rings or beeps: A painful grimace even before knowing who the caller/ sender is. This is followed by sheer reluctance to reach for the device and later, the moment of truth, which induces either a deep sigh or great relieve. Sadly, it is often the former nowadays.

Officially, my scope of duties does not include dealing with many of the characters who call or send SMSes. But working for a public figure, there is no way I can brush them off. (Ok, I DO have ways to get around the irritating ones, but that's a topic I'd rather not blog about). I call this POPO or Paradox Of Phone Ownership - You really need it, but you wish you don't.

Actually, there's still quite a bit for me to share on this subject, ranging from the bizarre to the outrageous calls I have received. But then again, my phone is ringing...

Tingkat 4

It's amazing how the location within a government building can conjure so much emotion. Tingkat Empat, or the Fourth Floor, is one such place. It's a term popularised by former PM Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad in reference to the coterie of Oxbridge types based on the 4th floor of the PM's Department. Within anti-establishment circles, they have been caricatured as young, arrogant and pull the strings in the government's seat of power in Putrajaya. But this is not the place for me to discuss about my counterparts.

I don't work on the 4th floor. Like the Minister, I am based on the top floor - the 7th - of Block 5, Parcel D, in the Federal Government Administrative Centre in Putrajaya. The Ministry of Transport occupies the entire building. Really, there is nothing sinister or shadowy going on on the 4th floor (or for that matter anywhere else in the building). Those who occupy Tingkat 4 include the IT Department, the Accounts and the office of the Maritime Adviser, Kapt Dato' Rahim.

But 4th floor still holds a certain charm for me. It is the floor with connecting and covered bridges to all buildings within Parcel D, the squarish brick-coloured structure that looks more like a maximum-security prison than a government complex. The buildings in Parcel D there are designed in an "U" shape, with the Ministry of Transport on one end and the ACA in the other. Actually, the Ministry of Transport and the ACA are only about 200 metres apart.

I have always wanted to walk from my end of the office, pass the JPJ, Home Ministry, Human Resources Ministry, Rural Development Ministry,
and... I am not sure what else besides the ACA.

But I never got around to doing it. Besides, I think my chip-embedded name tag, which, ahem, opens (security-enabled) doors within the Ministry, does not do the same elsewhere.





But I can imagine strolling the entire stretch from Ministry of Transport right up to the ACA via the connecting bridges on the 4th floor. The journey will probably take 15 minutes or more. It will be an unusual sight for an othwerwise drape government complex - the fountain, the flowers, a field and the overall sense of serenity right smack in the middle of Parcel D.

I also like to use the 4th floor to get to the canteen (in the basement of another building) to spare my aircondition-soaked skin from the scorching lunch-hour heat. Or use it when it rains.

Yes, I do love the 4th floor.