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.

One year on

Today, it has been exactly one year since I left journalism, and about two weeks to a year since I joined the government. It's been a roller-coaster since Day 1.

Honestly, I did not know what to expect when I took up my current posting starting June 1 last year. It was a fairly different ball game from the one I ever knew. Some aspects of the job met my expectations, others fell far short. But what's really troubling now is that I am serving a government, increasingly under siege, not least by developments in Perak.

The idealist in me is upset, the realist in me knows there is only so much that can be done. One part in me wanna shout: dissolve the Perak assembly, play the underdog, cut losses and try to claw back in the next round - if at all. The other part in me says it ain't gonna happen and may not even be a good thing.

Ok, so much for politics. Do I miss journalism? Yes and no. Yes, I miss the adrenaline rush. I miss asking cheeky questions to newsmakers. But most of all, I miss the writing bit. But no, I can do without the crazy-hectic lifestyle which revolves around the political uncertainty post-March 8. No, I do not want to be woken up in the middle of the night only to be informed that Mas Selamat was caught by our more-efficient-than-Singapore authorities. And NO, getting tear-gassed when you already have to walk miles to cover an illegal rally under the scorching heat is not my idea of fun anymore.

Nowadays, I blog to ease my urge to write. And as I told some friends, I am far too tainted to return to journalism now. And even if I do, I have to steer clear of news reporting, much less write about politics - an area I used to focus on in the past. Although I have never been a member of any political parties, I have been thrust far too deep into the political spectrum to come across as a credible political writer for now.

Perhaps a stint doing movie reviews may help. Although since I became a dad in 2005, I have been to the cinema less than 5 times, the last show being "Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa" which I left some 40 minutes into the screening because that's how long my toddler's attention span could take (it was his first movie outing!).

Regrets? Not really. Sure, there were rough patches. Sometimes, you experience certain things which drains the living daylight out of you. Sure, power and greed bring out the best and worst in humanity. Sure,when the chips are down and the stakes are high, you just feel like hanging up your boots and say bye. But it's been one helluva experience so far, one which journalism would never have been able to offer. Yes, I would have gone through it all over again - only this time much wiser than before.

So, there you have it. One year on and life goes on. I wonder what I will blog about this time next year or whether I will still be an aide (my contract is for two years only). But really, I have no time to think about the unknown. There is a job to be done and I need to do it.

PS - Oh yeah, one more thing, I want to wish a dear colleague a happy birthday today. The person's been a great help. Thanks again!

Umno General Assembly

Yesterday, I dropped by PWTC where the Umno general asembly is being held. The boss was there for the opening, but he wasn't the main reason I was there.

I was there primarily to touch base. Met soooooo many friends, especially journalists. Practically, the who's who in the media fraternity was at THE political event of the year (ok, doesn't mean journos who were not covering were nobodys!).

Yesterday was my first time attending the event as a non-journo, and in some strange ways like in the past, had mixed feelings about the - for lack of better word - "carnival". I miss the adrenaline-rush, especially this being an election year. But the cigarette smoke chokes me all the same. Thank god, I did not stay long enough to listen to speeches littered with racial slurs. Oh yeah, the traffic jam leading to the country's inner sanctum of Power and the quest for a parking bay affect journos and non-journos alike.

Still, it was still a good trip. A good two-hour or so with good company. Thank god for that.

Plastic Impression

Occasionally, my job requires me to network and to stay in touch with contacts, usually over a meal or just coffee. It's one of those things I rather enjoy doing especially with contacts who click.

When it's my turn to get the bill, I often pay using my credit card. Not because the amount is so huge (usually not!), but simply because I enjoy the convenience of plastic. The thing is I have been using a particular bank's classic card for close to a decade now and enjoy seeing the points pile up over the years.

For some time now, my wife has asked me to ditch the classic card, if only because "even the messenger in my office uses a gold card". Yes, apparently stiff competition between banks made it very easy for just about anyone to own a gold card these days. Many are either not aware, or like me, not too bothered.

But of late, I have become more conscious of her point. Working for a public figure makes me more image-conscious. In the course of my work, I also have to deal with characters who treat those who put on elegantly-matched cufflinks a world of a difference from those who sport a RM12.90 tie from Carrefour. And classic credit cards? Let's not even get there...

Well, actually I did apply to upgrade to a gold card years ago. I was rejected because my wife works in that bank which issued the card. Under Banking and Financial Institutions Act (Bafia), I am not even allowed to own any credit card from the said lender. (I have no idea why the bank still allows me to keep the card though.)

Over the years, I have linked many accounts to the card for bill-settlement purposes, from insurance premiums to mobile phone charges to charity sponsorships. Cancelling the card means I have to re-apply to link these accounts to the new card, which I find to be quite a chore.

Well, I actually do have a gold card from another bank, applied many years ago (for the free gift!). But I hardly use it because settling the bill was a hassle; either I send them a cheque or queue up to pay (although later, Internet banking enabled inter-bank settlement, which came with a fee).

Anyway, I still enjoy seeing my points grow from the card I have used all this while and enjoy the convenience of settling the bill via Internet banking service provided by the same bank which my salary is credited into.

So far, I am still sticking with my "old (card) is gold" maxim. I am too lazy to apply for a new card and have even turned down an offer from wife to be her supplementary card holder. As for those pretentious snots who judge a person by the colour of their cards, I guess for now, carrying more cash with me ought to do the job.

Brain Vs Heart

Very often, when you start working for the government you are accused of having turned to the Dark Side. You are branded as an accomplice in concealing the truth, a spin doctor out to distort facts and partake in mass deception to prop up evil dictators.

I get that sometimes, although often in veiled forms, hardly in-your-face. And I take it in my stride and regard it as part of the occupational hazards.

But one thing I have learnt on the job is that Malaysians are still very much emotional-driven. The depth of such inclination is something I have underestimated before taking up my present post.

We (yours truly included) tend to cast aside hard facts in favour of our preconceived notions, which we have formed over the years. We tend to see shadows when none exists. We regard rationale explanations as further attempts to keep the lid on excesses and wrongdoings that exist only in our imaginations.

Before I am accused of coming to the defence of anyone, least of all the government, let me just clarify that this posting is not about whether anyone has done anything wrong. Let's face it: the government has made many blunders in the past, some more grievous than others.

This posting is about our tendency to look beyond facts and hold on to our beliefs, some which we are willing to die for. We can be like kids who hold on to their security blankets while ignoring their parents' assurances that the bogeyman from under the beds exists only in their minds.

For example when certain leaders say that the Chinese voters in Kuala Terengganu appear to have backed a particular party during the recent by-election there, some rubbish it by saying that Bandar, the state seat in the Parliamentary constituency with the most Chinese, saw more voters backing the opponent.

To them, saying the Chinese back this particular party doesn't quite fit into their preconceived notion that the non-Malays are an angry lot out to vent their frustration at the Federal government.

Just for the record, Bandar has about 60 per cent Malay voters and only a few polling stations are Chinese-majority, where it is possible to gauge voter preference according to race.

Similarly, those who trumpet about getting the Chinese support in KT tend to ignore the fact that the young voters have largely voted for the opposition, as results according to voting streams indicate. To these people, this trend doesn't quite agree with their beliefs, for reasons too lengthy to discuss here.

This is not a forum to dissect the results of a by-election. This is a posting about how infinitely difficult it is to change peoples' beliefs even if the facts are all laid out bare. It also reflects just how mighty the human heart is over the nimble brains.

This makes my job all the more difficult. OK, enough said. One of my next postings will be on managing public perception.

"Free" newspapers

With Chinese New Year approaching, I am once again reminded of, err... the newspapers I get at home. OK, here's the thing, the last time my vendor came to collect money from me was around CNY 2008.

Don't ask me why. I have reminded him time and again to come and collect the payments as it had accumulated to quite a bit over the months. My entire working life has revolved around newspapers. Before my present job, my newspaper bills came up to about RM120 per month. Now, it is less as my office's newspaper are delivered to my home over the weekends and public holidays.

Some simple number-crunching suggests that I owe the vendor close to RM1,000 - and growing. With each reminder, he promised to come and collect "in a few days' time". But he never showed up. One part of me hopes he will come so that I can forget about the debts I accumulated through no fault of mine. Another part says, heck no, as it already involves a rather hefty amount now.

I mean, it's not like I have been a bad paymaster. In fact, I was the one who kept bugging the man to come and get his dues.

Before anyone start asking for his name and contact number, I can only make a wild guess over why the newspaper man is so "generous" with me. Up to May 2007, I was working in another daily where I received free copies of the newspaper.

While I did officially inform my then employer to terminate my complimentary copies before I quit, the company probably did not do so. Some of my ex-colleagues who also left the paper were still receiving free copies years after they quit. That means to say, my vendor could have been charging me for newspapers he got for free between May 2007 to CNY 2008. And since I now don't get any newspapers from him on weekends, he could have even taken "my" copies and sold it!

Well, it's just a thought, a possibility to explain a behaviour that defies basic business conventions. Maybe he IS a generous man after all.

I guess the only way for me to find out is to change my newspaper subscription to that of another daily.

Liar liar

Honestly, lying is a prerequisite in my job. And truth be told, it is not something I am ashamed of or lose sleep over. No, I don't tell downright, damning lies. When I do breach the Eighth Commandment, it is what parents refer to as "white lies".

Very often, I feign ignorance and I do so for two reasons. Firstly, there are sensitivities to be observed, especially when plans and ideas have not come into fruition. Secondly, I am bound by the law to observe secrecy in certain matters.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not privy to lots of information, much less highly-classified state secrets. And those who know my boss understands that he doesn't unload easily, even if you work for him.

I also dispense half-truths if it can make somebody feel better, especially in dealing with Michael Chong-type complaints. (Better not go into the specifics here.)

Over the past few months, I have honed my skills trying to protect the boss' interests (ok, that sounds better than "lying"). Trying to act natural when you are not telling the whole truth is, honestly, easier said than done.

Body-language experts say poor liars tend not to blink and often look away. But you can't purposely blink or stare at someone just because you have something to hide!

One important thing I have learnt about the art of lying: the less said, the better. It is based on a simple premise that you won't be using one lie to cover another until you have a mountain of lies that you can't hide.

Now, that is reason enough to keep this posting short...

Speak (Or Write) No Evil

It's been a while since my last posting, and this is not a good sign for a newbie like me. Well, I was actually midway into a new posting but decided to ditch it. The entry, which was not to be, was inspired by a news article I read about French President Nicolas Sarkozy's administration.

After considering that the topic could veer into unchartered, dangerous waters, I thought the better of it. From the outset, AideSpeak is not meant to be a SoPo blog, and as far as possible, I will avoid the topic. Which brings me to the subject of the day: The Aides' Great Restraint.

Working for a top politician, we aides have to be super-cautious with what we say. Every single word, will one way or another, be linked to the boss. Receiving an SMS which reads: "My god, did u read what OKC said in da papers?!!!! how can?" usually does not warrant a reply. Or the safest response could be: "Noted, tq."

Going beyond that, and one will be treading on a political minefield. Whatever personal opinions on the subject is best left unshared. Words from those directly linked to the boss (like yours truly) has an uncanny way of getting around.

The last thing you want is the grapevine abuzz with talk like: "Did you hear what the Minister's aide said about so-and-so?" Worse, if such words reach the boss' ears.

And then, there is also the legals aspects. Being a civil servant, I am bound by the General Orders and the Official Secrets Act. I have to be mindful that the moment I blurted out something which I should not, it could well land me in jail.

Hence, the lesser I speak on work-related matters, the less likelihood that I will say the wrong things.

In a sense, it's quite frustrating, especially being an ex-journalist where I thought of nothing when shooting my mouth off on current issues.Now, I have to exercise a great deal of restraint.

It's not easy looking for "neutral" words when conversations stray into contentious topics. "Really?", "interesting..." and "I'll inform the boss" are my more common ones.

Sometimes, I have to put up an expressionless face when deep down, I wanted to rip the person's guts out simply because I so totally disagree with him or her.

It gets easier if it's text messages. You have more time to choose your words and the communication is devoid of any visual giveaways like body language and facial expressions.

The same rule applies even to family members. One of them just asked me if so-and-so will be made a Minister. My reply to him was the same as I would to others: "I don't know". First of all, I genuinely do not know. Although I could make an educated guess, I was not quite prepared to share those views as yet.

Ok, I guess enough has been said on this topic. Better stop before I blurt out something I should not...

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...