I am exploring Johor Bharu with sheer passion and constant thrill. Each discovery adds to my babyish joy, just like a cute baby boy who gets excited by things that he may come in contact with, oblivious of possible hazards that he may be exposed to. However, I am saddened with the attitude of some locals here who do not seem to appreciate my enthusiasm. It’s sickening listening to their degrading remarks of their own city.

Cekmi, JB is nothing.
Cekmi, KL is better-lah.
Cekmi, you’ll get bored soon.
Cekmi, are you kidding me?
Cekmi, hahaha.

Hmmm, is JB that bad?

I don’t know whether they are just being humble or they are just stating some plain truths about JB. But their belittling comments about JB are downright irritating and offensive. I am not defending JB because I do not know anything about JB, but can’t they just be a bit more supportive for a newcomer like me? I don’t think JB is as great as New York or Paris, but can’t they just be more appreciative for their own so-called boring city? While I think that, based on my humble discovery for a few weeks here, JB is a vibrant city to work and live, they always insist otherwise.

Well, that’s exactly their problem – they don’t speak highly of their own city which, for God’s sake, is a city on its own, just like KL. They are so unlike some Kelantanese who still speak proudly and fondly of their home state, despite lesser development back in Kelantan compared to a highly-developed KL. And Kota Bharu, despite being declared as Bandaraya Islam, is not even close to a city status, unlike JB which is a highly urbanized city like KL. But I have never heard people calling Kota Bharu a boring place, because Kota Bharu is always special in its own way.

I think what’s lacking among some people in JB is their identity. They don’t possess some concrete items to hold on to, like a common dialect among Kelantanese. Plus, being so close to a much more developed Singapore, I have a wild speculation that some people in Johor are always seeing JB as of lesser importance compared to Singapore. And this makes them more intimidated and belittled.

One more thing, for me, it is not KL-like or Singapore-like development that matters, but how we appreciate things as they are, be it brand-new or worn-out, small or grand, KL or not KL. What happens to some people here could happen to all of us. It is the attitude that grows out of complacency and stagnancy. We could have already been trapped in our own little world and our own comfort zone and our own deadly routines that we are no longer able to see bigger pictures anymore. We are so trapped in one hollow perspective.

I think we all should get out of our little zones in order to see things differently. And that’s precisely what’s happening to me. As I have gotten out of my comfort zone in KL, I am now gaining a whole new perspective of my new life. As a new comer and an avid explorer, I have a nonconforming perspective of JB. I don’t know how long this would last, but I am afraid, after some time, I might be doomed into the minds of typical locals, who are slowly losing some zest and passion of things around them. I hope it will not happen to me very soon.

I remember a scene from the movie Dead Poet Society when an English teacher asked his students to stand on their desks as a reminder to look at the world in a different way. I wish I could always stand higher and higher than a classroom desk so that I will always see a wider world than my views in it.

Having said this, I would prefer not to have a trapped-minded local as a guide for my exploration. They appear lacking some required spirit of a true explorer. I will not be discouraged by their aloof behaviour because I want to continue being inspired by my own little discovery. Of course, I want to experience my new world with my very own eyes of a baby. Baby Cekmi.

My students forgot to submit their assignments again. I didn’t understand. I thought, at this age, they should have been more responsible and more concerned with their marks. Sorry? How many sorries do you have in store for me? When you are sorry, mean it! You should really really really mean it by, of course, not repeating the same mistake again and again and again. You see, this seems like the thousandth time my naughty students are doing this to me. I am not an angel, okay. I can’t be that patient anymore. This is too much, guys. I am so disappointed and upset with your grotesque attitude.

Korang memang lembu!

People call me Mr. Hellaluya Pit. Yes, I am an angel from Hell.

As a matter of fact, I am unofficially assigned by the Hell Ministry to be Cekmi’s guardian angel in the world. And what the hell have these people on earth been doing to Cekmi? As a respected guardian, I have to protect his well-beings on earth. Otherwise, I could easily send those troublemakers to Hell. By the way, do you guys know that Cekmi’s real name sounds like Hell Me? Funny, isn’t it? Be careful, because he could Hell You any time he wants.


The Bull-shitty World Management

“The formula for achieving success is simple: you should treat all disasters as if they were trivialities, but never treat a triviality as if it were a disaster” - Quentin Crisp

Thank you for the food-for-the-soul tip, Mr Crisp. But you can go to Hell. I can tell that Cekmi doubts your words, because he wonders how he would sleep at night with such trivialities that got him on his nerves. You should have some mercy over his shitty life because he has recently encountered a lot of administrative bullshits that have driven him crazy that people around him would easily notice his strange behaviours by curiously asking annoying varieties of are-you-okay questions or why-you-so-stressed-out inquiries. You don’t understand what I am talking about, do you? That’s because I live in Hell and I am using a hellish language.

Okay now, let’s take a deeper look at his pathetic worldly administration stories, both at his university and his college, which have indeed put his life in a great glorious shit these days. You are lucky to see him alive with that skeletal body he thought he was so good-looking but I don’t think so because I think he looks so sick and damned. People in hell are a lot healthier and fatter. Okay okay okay, you snoopy bloggers who can’t resist the smell of good stories, these are the damned stories.


The Damnation of the International Irate University

He went to his university recently to check on his postgraduate status. So he entered excitedly like a fairy into the office of Post-graduate Studies. A moment later, the fairy flew away, because he found out the most shocking revelation in his life. The dumb-looking man at the counter told him aloofly:

“Brother, you have been dismissed from the university.”

Pause.

I don’t have to tell you how he reacted, because you can guess already how a drama queen like Cekmi would react in such a dramatic moment. But I am going to tell you anyway.

Play.

Cekmi was downright traumatized the world seemed to stop for a while. The feelings were so heavy things seemed to move in a slow motion like some kinda action movie. He looked at the sloppy I-don’t-care-how-you-feel-right-now man at the counter, and he felt like saying all the vulgar words he learnt in life before smashing the head of that son-of-a-bitch at the counter with the biggest hammer in the world and slicing out his brain like what Sylar did in Heroes, but thanks to the imaginary lawless world, Cekmi wouldn’t say nor do those things because it was a real lawful world and he would only say all those imaginary words and do all those imaginary actions in his blog later. All he could mutter was a faint “What? Dismissed?”

After few revealing seconds, Cekmi laughed madly at the bastard decision the university had decided for him, because how could it not be funny when he was a nerd who had religiously followed all the rules and regulations of the university, and he had been right there around the university almost everyday, and he had submitted the thesis for approval, and he had brought all the best out of him to graduate, and everything had seemed so right and perfect, when suddenly a bloody man at the counter told him that he was dismissed? Cow shit.

The nutty people in the office later told Cekmi that he missed to fill in one form. Of all the reasons in the world, he was kicked out of the prestigious university because he forgot to fill in a form. A form. Ahah. Thanks. But, how in the name of Heavan would he know which form to fill or when to fill them or how to fill them when the forms are so overwhelming in number, and there is no clear instruction, like a checklist or something, to guide or ease the complicated procedures, and there is no one reminding him over the possibilities of his ignorance and dismissal through whatsoever channels of communication? Buffalo shit.

After few days, Cekmi was again an ACTIVE student. At last they did their damn job.


The Nightmare of the International Irritating College

Back at his workplace, the disaster was almost synonymous with Cekmi. He left the administration in his college a year ago. He felt that he was so lucky and happy for leaving all the nonsensical stuff generated by the never-ending madness in the college management. But the management has never left him alone. As long as he is paid by the college, he would be forever stuck in the worst nightmare.

The most recent nightmare Cekmi was forced to face was to be the Director for another students’ intake. Since the very beginning, he felt sick and annoyed with the no-bonus syndrome spread in the college.

“If you don’t do this, no bonus!” those people with high power keep reminding him. So they thought this performance-based bonus is the key factor for all the human productivity in the college. Well, they might be right. Being a private cost-conscious college, it demands all the lecturers to be multitasking so that it will be cost-effective. With a low incentive, or maybe free refreshments on Fridays and the bonus in mind, the lecturers are expected to be ready for any unexpected assignments which could cost their teaching quality and reward them with a bonus or two. On the other hand, by looking at the high drop-out rate among lecturers, the management might be wrong. Oh, who wants the bonus when they have to sacrifice a lot of their nights and weekends for administrative tasks that could have been possibly handled by specialized administrators, provided the management is ready to hire them?

Plus, who wants the bonus if those poor lecturers are treated like beggars, putting them into constant no-bonus threat, pressurizing them into high-profile interviews to qualify them for a single bonus? In the end, the whole motivation for workforce in the college seems to be bonus-oriented. What happens to the I-want-to-help-the-nation-and-Ummah drive? What the hell is happening? Might as well the college is renamed the BONUS College.

Believe Or Not, U Suck.

Whatever the motive is, Cekmi was one of the victims. But he was no longer a bonus-driven gadget. So he carried out his job so involuntarily and with so much hatred and irritation. Why should he do something that could not contribute to his teaching profession? Experience? Bonus? But he could not complain. No bonus. And this no-bonus ridiculousness was at its peak when he met the HR manager.

“Since I came to work last Sunday for student intake and fulfilled six hours, I want to apply for one unrecorded leave,” said Cekmi stiffly.
“Was that the first time you worked on Sunday?”
“Does it matter?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. You have to work for two Sundays to claim for one unrecorded leave.”
And that answer put Cekmi in a rage, as he said: “And since when did you create this policy? Yesterday?”
“I thought everybody knows about this.”
“No, I don’t know. Show me the black and white memo!”
The HR moment was silent. Cekmi continued, “Look. I don’t mind about not getting a leave, but I don’t want to be the only victim of this so-called reasonable reimbursement. So I demand you to circulate a new notice and let everybody know about this fancy policy of yours.”
“Please Cekmi, don’t get angry at me. I am just new around here and I take orders from someone else too.”
“No, you should learn how to do your job properly and you should know how to decide on your own, and for God’s sake, you are the Manager, not some kinda stupid school children!”

Cekmi’s application has never been approved.

So tell me, is administration in the whole world just another bullshit in disguise? Do all worldly administrations have to be so cruel to their people? Are citizens of the world too busy minding how much they would get at the end of the month they forget to deliver their decent service to others? Administration is supposed to ease people’s affairs, but heck, maybe I should send all these people to Hell and let them suffer the worst administration affairs in their afterlife, waiting for Lord’s decision on the Judgment Day.

But on the other hand, Cekmi should slow down a bit. Maybe he should treat those disasters as trivialities. Maybe he should know that it is not the end of the world, unless I decide to send him to Hell very soon.

This is Mr. Hellaluya Pit. Out.

Sorry students. I hate to say this. But honestly, I didn’t enjoy it. At all.

Business Communication Grand Dinner – as the name clearly suggests - was supposed to be a night full of grandness and treasured memories. But, there had been so many unexpected things happened that night that had spoilt my mood. I know, it was an important night for you, a night to get together with your beloved friends before you leave the college very soon, but for me, it was a night of disaster, which was not worth attending to. Frankly speaking, I regretted that I actually was there. Tough revelation, isn’t it? But you must know this.

The theme, first of all, was supposed to be a grand dinner for graduating students especially Business Communication students, but it was messed up with the concept of Raya gathering. IIC Eid Gathering? What is this? You should stick to a grand dinner concept. I saw a lot of people were confused too, not aware of the theme changes. Funny mixture of formal and informal outfits were seen everywhere.

As for me, I had prepared for a formal dinner outfit, but was informed on a very short notice that I had to wear Raya outfit. I ended up with a Deeparaya style – a white Indian kurta (correct spelling?) covered with a green shawl and a songkok. The moment I stepped out of my house, I didn’t like the way I dressed up. I looked like an Indian politician going for a cheap campaign or a Tabligh ustaz who did not belong to a glamorous event (Why the hell, in the first place, did I choose those disastrous fashions for a grand dinner?). This uncomfortable feeling subconsciously ignited the chains of the following unpleasant details.

The programme was supposed to commence at 8pm (until that time, I didn’t receive any tentative program and was merely informed verbally, which I initiated myself). Being meticulous, I made some allowance for traffic jam, so I started the journey as early as possible so that I could be there on time. However, when I punctually arrived at Dewan Merak Kayangan, I was informed that the venue was changed to Dewan Perdana Felda. Hmmm. You should’ve informed me this earlier.

I got pissed off.

When I arrived at Dewan Perdana Felda, I found that I was among the unluckiest bunch of people who were being victimized by the sickening janji melayu. Only few students were there. No one was bothered to usher me to my seat. I didn’t expect for a VIP treatment (although I was supposed to be one of them), but at least, there should be someone accompanying me when I arrived there. Show some respect, okay.

I really got pissed off.

So I got back to my car and waited inside the car - waiting uncomfortably for other ‘VVIPs’ to arrive. The programme gradually started at 9pm. For the record, I waited stupidly inside my car for one stupid hour! What a lousy job to do. The whole programme that night was terribly coordinated. Full of mess. In fact, it was the worst event I have ever attended to. No usherers. Latecomers. Traffic jam? Come on, you should have expected this. Hello! This is KL okay, not your kampongs. Why can’t you guys be a little punctual? What have you learned in my class? (Business communication students konon).

I really really got pissed off.

I had a long painful, nauseating, dramatic experience with Standard Chartered (can’t believe this is my first entry after months of ‘khalwat’).

Bullshit 1

My first application for credit card and balance transfer was rejected, due to an incomplete billing address.

Bullshit 2

After being persuaded by the salesperson in Ampang Point, I applied again. And it was rejected again due to the same problem.

Bullshit 3

I faxed the complete billing address they wanted, and it was approved. But, not a single money was transferred. I receive only the credit card. They asked me to apply again.

Bullshit 4

I faxed the balance transfer application for three times before it was approved. But, only 30% of the money was transferred.

Bullshit 5

I did not receive the first statement, and they claimed that I was overdue. They charged me other interests.

Bullshit 6

After 2 months suffering from the humiliation, I decided to cancel the card. They asked me to pay the interests for the following 34 months.

Bullshit 7

I paid the whole sum and cancelled the card. They said there might be other interests incurred, even after I cancelled the card.

Bullshit 8

The many-faces customer service lady called me, persuading me not to cancel the card. I said no. She said it was nice talking to me. I said:

“Nice talking to you too. And I still think Standard Chartered is the lousiest fucking bullshit bank on the earth.”

Accepting the fact that life is offering so much imperfection, I am not used to grumbling about it, particularly when it comes to dealing with people you handsomely detest. It is funny that, being a lecturer myself, I am so much uncomfortable with my own lecturer in my master class. Now, I am going to declare war with him, for ten reasons:

1. He gave the course outline few weeks after the semester began
2. He seems to be very playful with time-management (especially classroom punctuality)
3. He teaches as if we know everything what he says (easily put, syok sendiri)
4. His teaching is haphazard (simply put, he blabbers all the time)
5. His instructions for any assignments are vague, confusing and irritatingly mysterious
6. He usually digresses ‘intelligently’ when answering to my simple questions
7. His explanations are lengthy and hardly down-to-earth
8. He always asks me to redo the assignments (which means another burden)
9. He sometimes discriminates his students (his ex-students versus fresh ones)
10. He calls only his few favourite students in the classroom (senang cerita, pilih kasih)

Morals of the story:

1. Knowing that I concurrently experience similar sentiments that my students feel in the classroom, I am hoping that I won’t do those ten things (that my lecturer does to me) to my very own students
2. Realizing that, for some clever reasons, I might be at fault (not my lecturer) and that I can do something to remedy the coldness in my master class, I hope my students will do the same thing – accepting my weaknesses and limitations, and therefore being able to do something clever in the classroom, rather than solely blaming me for all their non-performing behaviours in the classroom
3. Whether we like our lecturer or not, they still hold most of the coursework marks (all we have to do is to learn the art of human relationship)

“Ninety percent of the art of living consists of getting along with people you cannot stand”

~Samuel Goldwin~