Commercial

 I find myself at Film Development Corporation on Saturday afternoon. All because I stumbled across their audition advertisement (for Merdeka commercial) on Facebook few days ago and the performer in me won’t stop nagging me until I decided to sacrifice my beauty sleep for the audition.

 Once I open the door my jaw almost drops to the floor. I am greeted by the sight of hundred over people and my registration number is 157.

 I have no idea that I will be competing with so many people.

 

 It’s pretty embarrassing to be sitting there alone when most people around me come with friends so I try to talk to those sitting next to me; only to learn that the pretty lady next to me has been a TV extra for three years and the gentleman on my right is a professional model and he just modelled for Levi’s two weeks ago.

Umm, well, I’ve been a TV extra twice and acted in a short play which no one watched?

 I think I should go home but the performer in me refuses to move.

 The co-ordinator, Ariff takes our pictures and after one of the talents pesters him for what to prepare for the audition, he passes some scripts to us.

 It is a short script about a young couple where the guy will be leaving Malaysia soon to further his studies. The girl tries to flirt but him, being the hero, rejects her, telling her that such actions are immoral.

 If such a guy really exists, I will probably fall madly in love with him. What a saint.

  

 It is good that I now have something to read at so I won’t look so lonely sitting there all by myself. It doesn’t take long to memorize it but I just keep looking at the script because I don’t know what to do.

 Two hours later, me and nine other talents are called to the studio. I am so surprised at what I see that if it’s possible,  my eyes will spring out of the sockets, making loud “TWANGGGGG!” noise before returning to their rightful places.

 Three people are performing, with around thirty other talents who are waiting for their turn watching them. Three judges and there are cameras recording all the performers’ actions.

   Audition? Seriously? This feels like a performance.

 Ariff also tells us that due to the overwhelming response, they decide to make the audition impromptu so the judges will not get bored. He tells us to team up with our friends and come up with a short play.

 But Ariff, in case you fail to notice, I am here alone.

 Lucky for me that there are two other loners who are willing to have me in their group. I learn that they are both experienced TV extras.

 I really should be on my way home now.

 Watching other groups performing is really bad for self-esteem. They are so amazingly good that there are times when I forget I’m here for an audition. I actually think I am here to watch a performance. Comedy, tragedy, romance, thriller, action-packed - you name it, they do it.

  “Let’s see,” the judge in the middle says when it is our turn to shine on stage - or, in my case, to make the lights dim. “Alright. I want you -” she points at the Indian guy in our team - “to be the father who refuses to let his daughter marries a foreigner. And you - “ she points at the Malay girl - “The mother, who stands up for the daughter. You, ah moi - “ pointing at me - “the daughter.”

 “Why are you so stubborn? You and I are of different races as well,” my stage mother gets in the mood very quickly.

 “It’s a different story! Don’t you try to distract me with something else!” my stage father is fast in getting into his character too. Both of them get into a heated argument immediately.

 That’s when I realize : if I don’t say something now, I will never get a chance to say anything throughout the whole audition.

 “Mama!” I tug my mother’s blouse. “Papa bullies me, he doesn’t love me anymore, I’m sad Mama, help me -”

 “Don’t forget, you might be an Indian but you eat meatball spaghetti too, and I may be Chinese but I love nasi lemak very much, so why are you being so old-fashioned?”

 I laugh a little at her lines before realizing that I shouldn’t. I hastily change my facial expression to that of a bimbotic daughter begging and pleading her parents for something she wants.

 “This has nothing to do with food, I’m talking about my daughter’s marriage! You shut up! Sheesh, women! Never know when to be quiet!”

 My stage parents are too busy fighting for the limelight to notice me. I guess I should do that too.

 “Help me, mama, I really want to marry Emmanuel, you know how much I love French culture, I am always eating bouillabaisse and escargot and ratatouille and macaron, why is papa being so irrational, mama help me talk some sense into papa -” I don’t know why but Emmanuel is the first name that comes to my mind. Maybe because he is the first French guy I befriended.

 And I’ve actually never tried bouillabaisse and ratatouille before. Somehow long complicated names that I can’t pronounce properly come to my mind when I can’t think of anything to say.

 “You are spoiling our daughter! I’m not going to take a son-in-law who doesn’t even know how to eat Asian cuisine!”

 Oh, this seems like a good time for me to steal the limelight.

 “But papa! Emmanuel knows how to use chopsticks now, and soon I will be teaching him how to eat with hands, he is very smart and he learns things very quickly so don’t you worry, if you want I can ask him to wear sarong and songkok too, he is very open-minded, I’m sure he won’t mind, he’ll probably like them, he likes Asia culture especially Jackie Chan, trust me papa -”

 Our bickering goes on for quite a while before the judges stop us. As I leave the stage one of the judges smiles slyly at me and says : “So, Emmanuel huh?”

 She probably thinks that’s my actual boyfriend’s name.

  She’s probably even thinking that my boyfriend is really a foreigner!

Oh wow, am I that convincing? Can’t help but to feel a little proud even though I know I really shouldn’t. Too many talented people here.

 “Wow, you can act quite well huh?” my stage mother says to me. A seasoned TV extra telling that to an acting novice - I guess she’s just being kind. Too kind.

*

 Two months later during my first rehearsal for “Seringgit”, I receive a phone call.

“This is Ariff from Film Development Corporation.”

 

 Feeling excited, I stand a little straighter.

 So Ariff tells me where and when to meet and what to bring. He also tells me that not counting me, seven other talents were chosen.

 Around two hundred people auditioned. Eight chosen. And I’m one of them?

 

 I think I screamed all the time while driving home from Wangsa Maju. Too good to be true. Worth losing my voice for it.

 On the actual shooting day I arrive at the studio fifteen minutes earlier. I meet an Indian girl and a Chinese guy and both of them look somewhat familiar.

For a moment I hesitate to say “hi” to them because they look like celebrity to me.

 I later find out the Theebia is a pageant winner and Dexter has been dancing for Astro. He is also a musical actor.

 Then there’s Logen, who has been a TV extra for six years; Izzat, an actor’s son; Christine, a young girl who has appeared in a number of TV commercials; Syarifah, an experienced, drop-dead gorgeous model and Yusof, a voice-over actor.

 Then you have me, who’s wearing a “how-did-I-get-here-with-all-these-amazing-people-oh-wow-someone-up-there-really-likes-me” facial expression.

 Shooting is completed in three hours time and we are paid rather handsomely. Reminds me of being paid peanuts for acting under the hot sun from 8am - 6pm; and continued filming at a different location until 11pm.

 Drinking water while being blinded by the fake diamonds that Theebia is wearing, I can’t help but to think of the paradox of value.

Color of the Light

Working in a contact centre means you hardly even get five seconds to breathe, therefore the employees of FTX treasure their lunch break very much. Lisa, Jane, Desmond and Avery are no exception. They often lunch together at a food court nearby because they are just too lazy to walk with their other colleagues to some far away places (which happen to be only about 500 metres away) just to grab a bite. Avery doesn’t mind the walk actually since she has no problem to be seen in public in her comfortably hideous blue and green slippers; but Lisa and Jane on the other hand, insist on being seen in their beautiful four-inch heels that start hurting their toes from the fiftieth metre onwards.

One thing about having lunch together frequently is that they often run out of topics to talk about. How many times can you complain about your big boss? And FTX is not a multinational company so they don’t have that many colleagues to gossip about. So they find themselves talking about everything and anything, from movies to wine to beer to eatery to sexual position to gambling to smoking…

Today, they end up talking about fengshui, tarot and horoscope.

“I’m Libra,” Lisa says.

“Really? Me too! High five, Librans are beautiful!” Avery squeals.

“Based on your looks, you really shouldn’t be one,” Desmond says as he scans Avery from her messy hair to her slippers. Avery threatens to punch him.

“That’s because her moon sign is probably something other than Libra,” Jane says after swallowing a mouthful of rice.

“Moon sign?”

Jane nods.

“The horoscope that we are familiar with is the sun sign. However, based on our time and place of birth, we also carry with us a moon sign. Maybe your sun sign is Libra but your moon sign might be Gemini. It is never accurate to rely on sun sign alone. It is a must to read both our sun sign and moon sign together to find out our actual personality.”

“Whoa.”

For a moment everyone gets excited, wanting to know what their moon sign is, only to realize that no one knows their exact time of birth required to calculate it.

There is a moment of silence where everyone eats their food quietly. Probably thinking of where was the place they last misplaced their birth certificates.

“There’s this shop at Mid Valley,” Lisa says, breaking the silence. “That takes your picture with a special camera. It shows lights on top of your head, and the fengshui master calculate your fate based on the lights shown. My friends and I tried it. Very accurate.”

“I might have orange lights in my picture,” Desmond jokes as he sips his orange juice.

“Your light will probably be blue, pervert,” Jane teases him. “How much is it, Lisa? Sounds fun.”

“RM 38. It’s not that expensive. The costly part will be purchasing the crystals. Based on your fate, the master might advise you to purchase a certain type of crystals, which can cost thousands.”

“That’s easy,” Jane laughs. “I’ll ask him what kind of crystal I need and purchase them somewhere else."

*

Avery leaves office sharp at 5.30pm. She promises to watch The Fault in Our Stars with Kim 6.45pm at KLCC.

Girls find it entertaining to cry together.

She feels her phone vibrating in her handbag while waiting for LRT. It’s a Whatsapp message from Kim.

“Sudden meeting with client at Mid Valley. Unlikely to be a short one. Can you come here instead?”

Times like this Avery finds LRT’s lack of punctuality a blessing in disguise.

LRT after normal working hours is a battle. It requires hard work, determination and the ability to be rude. Never feel sorry for those who can’t get in unless you want to feel sorry for yourself. Squeeze in even when it looks like there’s no room. When ten people suck in their tummy together, a room will be created for a girl as thin as Avery.

With the familiar “beep beep” and an unfamiliar “Thud!”, Avery finds herself in LRT heading towards Bangsar, where she will be taking a free shuttle bus to Mid Valley.

“I’m here. Where are you?”

“Still in meeting. Call you when it’s over.”

Avery walks around aimlessly, hoping to stumble across something interesting.

Her wish is granted when she spots a shop selling crystals with a strange, antique-looking camera in the middle of the shop.

It’s the shop Lisa talked about during lunch.

She combs her hair and puts on a little lip balm. It’s a must for girls when they see a camera.

The master’s assistant takes her photo and passes it to the master.

“Anything you want to do before you die?” The master asks solemnly.

“Uhh, what?” Feeling unsure as to how to respond and offended at the words “you die” at the same time, these two words are the only words Avery is capable of saying.

“Doesn’t matter. Have your will ready. I don’t read fate for dying people.”

The master walks towards his own room with his assistant following him closely behind, leaving Avery alone with her photo.

A photo where she stands under dim light, looking like a vampire.

“I don’t read fate for dying people.”

Feeling terrified, Avery leaves the shop as quickly as she can.

*

“You’re not crying,” Kim complains.

“I can’t focus.”

“That’s not like you,” Kim eyes Avery suspiciously, recalling Avery's extraordinary ability of crying at movies like Transformers, Real Steel and The Dark Knight Rises.

Avery’s phone vibrates. It’s a call from an unknown number.

“Excuse me,” Avery bows a little as she exits the cinema.

“Hello, is this Avery Chan?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I am Kit Siang. I found your book at KL Sentral LRT Station. Death in Venice by Thomas Mann. How can I return it to you?”

Death.

It’s an omen.

“My friends and I tried it. Very accurate.”

Lisa’s words echo in Avery’s head.

“I don’t read fate for dying people.”

“Death in Venice by Thomas Mann.”

Avery really wants to think of something else but she can’t.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Y-yes. Can I meet you at KL Sentral LRT Station 20 minutes later?”

“Okay. See you.”

“Thank you.”

Avery tells Kim she’s not feeling well, leaving her to weep alone in the cinema. She never enjoys reading Nobel winning books but this is a birthday gift from Hussain and she loves Hussain dearly, even though they had to break up because her parents forbid them to date each other due to the difference in their religions.

Also due to the fact that Hussain found a girl who actually appreciates literature, but that’s a different story.

Avery’s heart beats a little faster as she waits for the LRT. Any moment from now, she’ll die. The worst part is not knowing when and how. She wishes the fengshui master had been more precise. Will it be a car accident? Will she be raped?

She believes that fate cannot be changed but she also believes that knowing what will happen will lessen the misery.

“Anything you want to do before you die?”

She dials Hussain’s number.

“Just to let you know that I still love you.”

She hangs up immediately after saying the last word. Before Hussain can respond. She does not want to know his response. She just wants to get it out of her system.

On her way to KL Sentral LRT Station, she types away frantically on her smartphone.

“Leaving all money in my bank account to my parents equally. All books (with the bookmarks in them) on my shelf to Hussain. Clothes and accessories to my sister, Marcie. Guitar to my brother, Sam.”

She has no idea as to the validity of her will (if a note on her smartphone can be regarded as one) but she has to try.

Kit Siang is a charming guy who, after some small chat, invites her for a drink. Avery usually enjoys making new friends but today her thoughts are just too occupied so she rejects him in a manner she deems polite.

There is an announcement that there is a breakdown with the train and everyone has to wait fifteen minutes more. Everyone moans and complains. Everyone except Avery.

She’s just happy that she has more time to write her will.

“Everything at my office cubicle to Lisa. Including the posters of Hugh Jackman and Johnny Depp but posters of One Direction go to Lai Kuan. All my old clothes to Angel’s Orphanage. My aerobics videos to Jane. Something she sorely needs. Collection of Archie’s comics to Kim. Batman figurines to Lailatul. All my narcissistic self portraits shall be burned to ashes along with my body and scattered at any beautiful sea. Actually, any sea except Port Dickson.”

She reaches home safely. No car crash. No gang rape.

Only a message from Kit Siang asking her if she has arrived home safely; and a message from Kim asking her to take good care of herself.

*

Avery survives the next day peacefully, and the next week, and the next month.

“Very accurate, my foot,” she laughs when she remembers all these as she walks past the same shop after a meeting with her client.

*

Men Charged with Murder of Ex-Girlfriend

KUALA LUMPUR: Man charged at Magistrate's Court for the murder of ex-girlfriend, Avery Chan Ee Ping whose body was found at his house.

Chemical engineer Mohammad Hussain bin Mohammad Yusof, 27, was charged with the murder of Chan, which allegedly took place at his apartment at Venice Hill, Batu 9 Cheras here between 10pm and 11pm on July 29, this year.

The charge was read out before magistrate Mohd Azman Shah Mohd Andalas here on Sunday.

Hussain nodded when the charge was read out. No plea was recorded.

Mohd Azman Shah sets Sept 2 for next mention.

Tu Dia! (Written for The Writer's Tower, July 2014, Theme : Paradox)

  It'a Saturday morning and I wake up at 6.30am. Just because I received a call from Zamir yesterday at 10.00pm asking me to participate in a game show. 

  "You will be paid."

 I have exams next Monday but it's not like I'm going to study, so why not? And I am an extremely money-minded person. The only things that I am willing to do for free are writing and acting. And singing too; but then again, I don't think anyone will want to listen to my singing even if I pay them to, given my ability to make Michael Jackson's Beat It sounds like opera.

  And Adam Lambert will die from a very severe case of heart attack if he ever hears me singing No Boundaries. Too many boundaries in my vocals. 

  Anyway, I told him I will be there at 8.15am sharp.

  When my alarm clock rings and refuses to shut up because in my sleepiness I keep pressing the snooze button, I curse myself for agreeing to participate.

  This better be good. I say in my head as I park my car upon arriving at the studio.

  They give me a red T-shirt but I am feeling really blue over the fact that I have to wake up so early on a Saturday morning.

  As the make up artist draws my eyebrows, I begin to suspect that he is trying to make my looks live up to my name, because he makes them so thick that I look like Crayon Shinchan.

  "We want you to be as crazy, as stupid, and as hyperactive as possible," Jessie says to the six of us contesting.

 Which means no acting required. Just be yourself. I make a mental note, at the same time feeling more cheerful - being paid for being yourself! What can be better?

  I team up with Ken, who, like me, have no idea what are we expected to do. We only know this game show is called Tu Dia! and will be aired on Hypp TV on 26th September,7.30pm when we arrive at the studio.

  You will never meet another law graduate as blur as me.

  "Now I want you to dance as you walk on the stage as I introduce you. Dance all the time. As crazy as you can. And never stop," Fairus, the host instructs us. 

  If I am not mistaken, you need to pay to watch HyppTV.

  Which means someone out there is paying to watch a person with two left feet dance on stage. I really want to laugh.

  For the first game we have to suck a spaghetti with our team mate with a can in between and bring it to the table a metre away. The objective is to bring as many cans over as possible. 

 Surprisingly Ken and I win. I suppose despite the fact that this is the first time we meet, our mouths are meant for each other.

  Gosh, what am I sayin - I really have to stop reading Fifty Shades of Gray. 

  For the second game we have to sit on a balancing beam and hit the other team with a pillow. Blind-folded. With your team member shouting instructions at you. The objective is to get the other person to fall from the balancing beam.

  Ken's opponent, Logen, almost falls but he clings on with his hands and feet while the rest of his body dangling below the balancing beam. For a brief moment I suspect that I have been magically teleported to Australia because Logen looks like a koala bear, minus the cuteness. I keep shouting at Ken to hit his feet so he falls but somehow Ken is not following my instructions. 

  What happens next is beyond my comprehension because Ken falls off the balancing beam with no one hitting him. It's as if he has suddenly decided to be kind and let others win.

  "You didn't give me orders!" he complains to me.

  "I did! But you didn't follow!" I protest.

  "Seriously? I can't hear a thing."

  I guess the headgear is sound proof. Why bother to ask us to shout instructions then?

  What happens next is really unfair. My opponent is Yusof, and he is the most muscular guy among us all. Now, really! Why would you team up a girl so weak that she can't even do one push up properly with the most muscular guy around?

  I conclude that this is arranged for higher TV ratings but I don't think I know anyone who actually watch HyppTV.

  Yusof's look is definitely deceiving because he is no gentleman. Far from being one actually. He hits me three times on my head - hard. I have no idea that pillows can hurt so much. They always look so welcoming on the bed. Even with the protective headgear, I still feel the pain, and I think he must have knocked away some of my IQ. Which is probably a good thing because I am sometimes of the opinion that my IQ is too high that it borders insanity.

  Of course, reality is a different story. The part about insanity is true though - a person who sings as she walks to LRT stations - if that is not insane, I don't know what is.

  So Ken and I lose the second round, which is really discouraging but there is still hope for us : The third round.

  Where he has to pump the balloon while I hold it. The first team to burst the balloon wins.

 "This is easy," he says to me excitedly. "Just use your nails."

  I was about to tell him that I don't keep long nails when Fairus starts passing out ridiculously thick gloves for the contestants who are going to hold the balloon.

  Ken pumps really hard and really fast but somehow the faster he pumps, the slower the balloon expands.

  This game is fixed. Something is wrong with our pump. I think angrily, conveniently forgetting the fact that Ken is the least muscular among the three male contestants.

  We end up third place. There are only three teams.

  As I drive home my cellphone rings. Angel calls me, asking me if I want to go to Universal Studio.

  "But it's so expensive."

  "I know, but we get to play!"

  Some people pay to play. Some are paid to play.

  Oh life, you never fail to amaze me with your irony.

  

  

  

  

Interview (written for The Writer's Tower, July 2014, Theme : Paradox)

Written for The Writer's Tower, July 2014.
Theme : Paradox

Inspired by an article I read on Linkedin.

And I actually support Spain but unfortunately they decided to be extremely kind this year.

*

Staring at my notes feeling frustrated over my inability to memorize the cases on tort law, I wonder if I should give up and just go and watch football. It's Germany vs. France - Manuel Neuer!  Julian Draxler! Mats Hummels! Bastian Schweinsteiger! Andre Schuerrle!

I am on my way to the living room to catch the remaining of the match when I accidentally glance at the whiteboard nailed to my door. The whiteboard is where I scribble my dreams, goals and motivational quotes.

There's nothing by Thomas Edison or Dalai Lama today. What's written is : Three more months to working life - Study now and make yourself proud!

Oh boy, working. I can't wait to start working! That's when I can buy pretty clothes with my own money!

Now that really gets me walking back to my study table. How difficult can it be to memorize Donoghue v Stevenson? Lord Atkin. Neighbour principle. Snail in ginger beer.

Funny how easy memorizing becomes when I'm motivated.

I'm ready for final exam tomorrow. Yes!

*

I rush home to switch on my laptop once exam is over. There's no time for post exam celebration and all those nonsense. I need every hour every minute every second available to start applying for jobs.

Lenovo is a great company but unfortunately they don't have any entry level position available. Microsoft is only taking intern whereas Dell is only hiring temporary staff.

Finally I come across this:

Inside Sales Representative (supporting Australia market), HP

Description

Working hours : 6am - 3pm for January - June; 7am - 4pm for July - December

Salary : RM 2500 + OTE package

• Demonstrates ability to apply IT and/or industry solution, product, service knowledge to solving business challenges.
• Demonstrates a successful ability to leverage HP's portfolio of products and services to change the playing field against our competition.
• Ability to research and understand client's industry to enable to understand client business strategies and challenges
• Builds and orchestrates sales pipeline activity. Ensures active nurturing of deals and movement of opportunities to close. Manages a balanced pipeline representing all of the businesses being pursued.
• Meets or exceeds quarterly and annual revenue and margin quotas.
• Prospect Development or Lead Generation Skills

Qualifications

This is an Entry-Level, Bachelor's Degree Graduate Opportunity.

· Bachelor's graduate Degree in Business, Arts or Sciences

· Outstanding verbal (including telephone) and written communication skills

· Track record of achievement

· Ability to work in a fast changing environment

· Interpersonal skills

· Ability to work well both independently and as part of a team

· Some experience in customer service and/or sales

· Knowledge in IT Tools (database systems; MS-Office and computer tools.)

· Ability to open conversations and close deals

I get excited reading this. Even though I'm really hungry, this is not the right time for a bite. I need to amend my resume and send in my application right away!

*

Calm down, I tell myself in my heart. Take a deep breath. 

I have been memorizing my sales pitch, practicing my essay writing skills, reading on cheat sheets for personality tests, sharpening my interview skills and every other preparation that I can think of to make sure that I get this job since I received HP's interview invitation email five days ago.

"Siti Aishah."

I stand up, walk towards the room, knock the door, smile and say "Good morning, Mr Daniel" before sitting down.

Being the first candidate to be interviewed is nerve wrecking.

"Tell me something about yourself," Mr Daniel says, looking serious behind his frameless spectacles. He does not return my smile. 

My heart sinks. This is a bad start.

No, stay positive! Some interviewers like to test your stress tolerance level.

"My name is Siti Aishah. I was an intern with Lenovo for three months where I had the opportunity to work under inside sales department. I was able to consistently achieve 80% - 120% of my sales target. I also worked at PC Fairs during semester breaks where I sold Asus laptops. I developed a passion in IT sales through my internship programme and part time jobs."

Next question will probably be about my weakness, or what do I know about the company, or why do I want this job. Whatever the question is, I am prepared.

"Only three months of working experience?" Mr Daniel looks at me for the first time. "I need someone with at least 1 year of working experience in IT telesales."

"I am under the impression that this is an entry level position," No, that's not how this interview should go. He is still testing my stress tolerance level. That must be the reason why he is saying this. I force myself to give him a fake smile.

"Yes, it is an entry level position. Still, I need someone with at least 1 year of relevant working experience."

"Next candidate, Jason Yap!"