Nice Girls Don't Get Office with Windows?

As they say, all good things must come to an end.

Come next week, I will have to give up my prime location in the office to move to a dark, obscure corner. OK, I exaggerate, but it still is a miserable place, compared to the vista I have now.

In the whole 20, 000 sqm building of Gemplus, I am the only one sitting at this place – facing the whole panorama of windows. And I am not even the CEO, ha ha. How I had waxed lyrical over this ‘’best seat in the house’’ when I first moved here in August 2001.

So for more than four and half years I have been facing this whole stretch of windows on Level 2. Sometimes looking out to see how heavy the rain is, sometimes just staring at the bright clear sky hoping to find the right word for my writing, sometimes bursting into a smile when I catch a yellow bird fly across the branches.

Whenever I am down, all I have to do is to look up, and see the leaves flickering in the breeze or gleaming like gold foil in the sun. Sometimes they would sway and dance if the breeze was stronger. They look so ‘’carefree’’ and happy.

Yes, just outside the window, I have more than five huge and old rain trees to keep me company. They have been with me through the most stressful and painful times at work.

Of course, this office location is not all perfect. Behind the trees are ugly flatted factories. But I choose to focus on the trees. And because I had traded the view for convenience, my cubicle has to be tilted at such an angle that the walkway is pretty narrow, and fat(ter) people can actually bump into my desk when they walk past my work station. (That was the best the contractor could do, when I ‘’conspired with them’’ over this office orientation during the office renovation in 2001)

Plus, there is less privacy, as the orientation does not allow for the high partitions that senior managers ‘’are entitled’’ to. And it’s pretty near the main door, so I get asked all sorts of questions like, ‘’where is Mr Chou?’’, or, ‘’may I have a mint as I just ate garlic for lunch?’’ And also because it is near the window facing the main road, colleagues also tend to go there for ‘’inspiration’’ when they make mobile calls, perching on the window ledge and looking out to yell into their mobiles. So I do get a fair share of confidential contract details or marital woes, on days I could not concentrate on my own work.

When we were first told of next week’s massive office re-shuffle (almost everyone is impacted by this re-shuffling of office space), my heart sank. They did some reshuffling last year and I was spared the move. The particular department who moved next to me was so considerate – they let me stay within their ‘’block’’ of staff. The result was great – I got to work with them a lot more closely and this in turn yielded great media coverage for their projects region-wide.

This year, I won’t be second time lucky. The department moving next to my current place is not as magnanimous (being bean-counters – what do you expect?!) and was adamant in kicking me out.

Oh well, I shall miss jumping out of my seat to look out to see if my laundry man, guests and visitors have arrived. I shall miss the warmth of the sunshine beaming through the windows, protecting me from the harsh air-con in the office. I shall miss drawing the blinds at 4 pm when the sun gets too strong and renders my laptop screen un-readable. I shall miss the sense of ‘’eerie’’, dark, dense foliage when I look out during my late nights in the office. I shall miss the view and of course, shouting across the partitions to my colleagues to discuss our press releases and projects.

But I have had more than four good years of good view and inspiration. I should learn to be more magnanimous, and let the bean counters enjoy the view instead. After all, all good things must come to an end, even for them, some day.

Wake up, Singapore !

I was at the empty Starhub service centre at OUB Centre bright and early yesterday at around 9.45 am, to avoid the crowd.

The receptionist took my IC, asked if my request for broadband subscription was for the address listed on the IC, checked his computer, gave me a Q number and told me to wait for my number to be called.

The spacious shop was virtually empty – a big contrast to the usual crowd. There were few customers. The ‘’Q’’ system had three queues – ‘’mobile, cable, and others’’. I waited for more than ten minutes and saw the service counters were ‘’free’’. One of the staff at the counter was working at her computer. A few staff gathered around idling away and chatting, after the last customer has left.

I went to the receptionist and asked, ‘’why am I waiting so long when clearly your staff are not occupied? Why is there no one attending to the ‘’cable’’ queue?’’

The reply: ‘’Oh most of the staff are new and we don’t want them to handle cable customers’’.

‘’That’s not my problem. I have waited long enough and this is ridiculous, given that the shop has no other customers to attend to and here I am waiting indefinitely.’’

So he quickly led me to an empty counter. A young man tried to attend to me, while a Malay woman first asked me if I wanted my broadband subscription for the address on my IC, looked over his shoulder giving him every instruction (‘’go and photocopy her IC’’, ‘’check her address’’…) and another young girl looked over the two of them.

The young man took his sweet time to fiddle with the pen he was using, found that it was not working, took another pen, fiddled with it some more, and then asked if I had wanted my broadband to be installed at the address on my IC.

I thought: ‘’welcome to the world of service in Singapore; let’s see…’’ So I said, ‘’yes, this is the third time I have been asked this question since I stepped into this shop’’.

‘’But we still have to ask,’’ the Malay woman interrupted, and continued to guide the man, who was extremely retarded in his actions, even in a simple thing like copying my address on the form.

And following is what ensued:

Malay woman: Do you have Starhub cable point at home?

Me: I don’t know. I don’t watch TV.

Malay woman: We need to know otherwise…

Me: But both you and the receptionist have checked the computer, and know that my flat is cable-ready. All new flats are cable-ready.

Then she proceeded to ask a few questions before establishing that my flat is capable of receiving broadband.

Me: Excuse me, can you get someone qualified to service me? I am not here to be your guinea pig for your trainee.

Malay Woman: No, he knows how to do it, I am just supervising him.

Me: No, I am a paying customer and I want someone experienced to service me, and not someone who has to be coached in every action. I am not here to be part of your training programme.

The woman who was working at the computer (presumably the manager), overheard and without a smile or greeting me, simply told her, ‘’you just take over lah’’.

So the Malay woman took over and the process finally sped up a bit.

Malay woman: So ma’am, which plan do you want?

Me: What do you recommend?

So she proceeded to recommend the package that would suit me. I had to probe about the contract period and termination penalty which was the heftiest among all the packages. Truth is, in typical JL style, I had done my homework, research and checking with friends – I know all the packages, costs and details, but I wanted some basic ‘’service’’ too.

Finally it came to discussion on installation day.

Malay woman: The earliest we can install is Tue 4th April 3 pm.

Me: No, it has to be weekends or evenings, I work too, like you.

Malay woman: But our Saturdays are always full because everyone prefers Saturdays.

Me: I am also ‘’everyone’’ and I also prefer Saturdays. How about Sundays?

Malay woman: No we don’t work on Sundays. If you want, the next Saturday will be 8th April, two weeks later.

Me: No, that’s too long. Evenings?

Malay woman: Our evenings between 6.30 and 8.30 pm are also very popular and very difficult to get…

Me: Well, you have to find a way, I am a paying customer.

Malay woman: OK; Tuesday 4th evening?

Me: No, I have an appointment on that day.

She stared at me blankly, as if shocked that I dared reject her proposed ‘’popular evening slot’’.

Finally I had to suggest an alternative date to which she agreed and I was made to sign the service contract. Then she dropped the bombshell: ‘’I really hope that we can turn up on this day and time because it is really a popular slot. We will try and call you if we can’t….’’

So I gave her MY bombshell, loud and clear: ‘’don’t hope; make sure it happens. If you call me on the very day I rush back from work at 6.30 pm to say it has to be re-scheduled…..’’ I gave her the ‘’JL look’’.

I continued, when she said she would call at least the day before and not on the same day: ‘’look, like you, I also schedule my appointments in advance and I do not want to have to cancel my evening appointments, rush back, and then your guys do not show up. If you need me to call you again in advance to confirm, I will do so, or do you prefer me to call Yong Lum Sung [the CEO] instead? I worked for SCV before and I know installations can or cannot be done on what days and times!’’

So she said, ‘’hold on’’ and disappeared into the back room to ‘’check’’ and came back saying, ‘’yes ma’am we confirm it will definitely be on the 5th ….’’

Why do I waste so much time writing about this appalling ex employer of mine? Maybe it’s to help me ‘’accept’’ the pathetic state of ‘’service’’ in Singapore.

Starhub and Singtel have customers served up to them on a silver platter – customers suffer long queues to sign up for services. The companies don’t do much selling or fight hard to get customers; though they make a masquerade of ‘’apparent competition’’ with heavy advertising and expensive road shows. PC and internet penetration are high in kia-su Singapore. There are only two broadband players in Singapore – and both are of the same ‘’lineage/ parentage’’ if you trace the ‘’family tree’’.

And Singapore is such a tiny island – travelling all over the island to install services is not as painful as in the US, Australia or Europe where the geography is daunting. In fact, in Europe, employees travel between Milan and Paris in the day for work! Or between Paris and Marseilles for meetings. I also know of those who fly from Hong Kong to Singapore within half a day to sign contracts and to conduct meetings. Or between JB and Singapore for that matter!

And yet we have softies who can’t fill in a form, or who fiddles insolently with pens while servicing customers. And service staff who try and convince me that I am not an ordinary customer and that I should take a less popular installation slot, instead of perhaps giving feedback to her management to increase the number of installation staff for that time slot.

How long will the ‘’old guard MPs’’ be around to nag at us to be more competitive? How many Gems Card can they introduce in the name of ‘’service’’? How many more ‘’campaigns’’ do we need to remind us that our neighbouring countries have already caught up with us in every aspect of our ‘’progress’’ ?

Wake up, Singapore.

Lethal Combo

A smashing combo of Singaporean lack of initiative, and Italian mess, is lethal. Enough to cause my friend Kit, while still on vacations in the U.S, to send a nasty email to the Italian Cultural Institute in Singapore.

It all began when Kit and I got impatient with the slow progress of our group class on Saturday afternoons at the Institute and we decided to have private lessons with a tutor instead (two to one basis).

Ever since we made this request, there has been umpteenth email ping pong matches with the Institute regarding time slots, days, tutor and payment. Kit and I are not perfect, but suffice to say the administrator there is, to be polite, stupid and disorganised (she is local).

So we finally agreed on the day, time and tutor. She insisted that we have to pay up before lessons commence. Fair enough. So I made a trip to the Institute yesterday morning to pay up.

I wanted to pay for my portion and let Kit pay for hers when she returns. But no, you have to make one single payment and then sort out in private with Kit, she advised me.

Me: OK. I can pay for her first. But wait, if for some unforeseen circumstances Kit decides not to join the class, can I get a refund? Or can the amount paid be used for the next series of classes, with the appropriate top-up amount, for example?

Institute: Don’t know. If you are not sure, then come back another day to pay. I don’t want to accept payment now only to find out I can’t do anything about the amount.

Me: Yesterday I sent you an email to say I was coming down just to pay up. Today I took time off from work to do so. Now it looks like I have to leave with an empty cheque and a wasted trip.

Institute: I just want to avoid misunderstandings, as you said, she might decide not to join you…and I do not know what our policy here is regards refunds. You can come again just before class to pay, but not on Saturdays as we are closed.

I decided not to push her to go find out, since it did not occur for her to even offer to find out. Instead, I said, ‘’our class is on this coming Saturday and it’s more convenient to pay on the same day rather than to make another trip during my office hours. It is 100% confirmed Kit will join and I really don’t mind paying for her first. But the point is, you need to know what the refund policies are in the first place.

Anyway, I left the place holding my breathe as she stared at me blankly and ‘’blurly’’.

When I got back to the office, we played more ping pong. I saw Kit’s reply to the Institute’s earlier email (about payment before class) saying she would make payment on Thursday when she returns; I replied to tell her about my wasted trip and the Institute replied to reiterate it was to avoid ‘’misunderstandings’’ and also for us to confirm ‘’the number of people attending the class’’.

She obviously totally missed my point. I breathed deeply, and moved on with work and more important things.

But Kit was furious – coming from a big American MNC she was not going to take any crap. Call me vocal and aggressive – but you have yet to meet Kit !

Her final email was enough to silence the administrator.

But I doubt it will correct the lethal combo.

Zapping Out

Your memory is a monster; you forget – it doesn’t. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you – and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you! (John Irving, author)

Last week, I finally saved all the photos taken in Italy and took the thumb drive to the shop for printing. I collected them last evening and looked through them, one by one, a few times.

I looked at them, totally detached and void of feelings. Whenever I look at photos, I would normally smile, frown, recognise, reminisce, remember, react. But this time, I was more than deadpan. My mind and heart were dead.

It was as if I was looking at the images in newspapers, magazines and even old archives or books – I did not feel a thing or seem to ‘’recognise’’ those images. Even if there was ‘’recognition’’, it was devoid of any attachment – the way you look at Tony Blair’s picture in Time magazine, for example.

Maybe I was just exhausted. After all Sheryl commented I looked ‘’really very tired’’ when I dragged my feet into VirtualFit last evening.

But I worry. No, I grieve. About not remembering. No, I am aware I am not suffering from amnesia. I am just aware that my mind has simply shut out a portion of my life that was too beautiful and special to sustain. And that I have somehow succeeded in suppressing a lot of feelings.

I know I have asked friends to pray for peace of mind, strength and ‘’recovery’’. I know I have made the same prayers.

I now wonder if there is such a thing as ‘’over-praying’’ ? That our prayers have been so ‘’effective’’ that it zaps out everything?

There is a difference between ‘’recovery’’ and total “zapping out”, which is hollow, and numb.

I want to ‘’let go’’, and still love. I want to recover, and still remember, not be ‘’dead’’.