One night, the Boy and I were discussing something not very important when he said something that made me raise both eyebrows. I don't remember exactly what it is, but it made me say, "That's so racist!"
The Boy immediately disagreed. He said being racist is when you hate someone just because of their race - and he was not, and will never do that.
I disagreed because I think making any judgement, positive or negative, based on the concept of race is being racist.
Of course, this does mean that everyone is at least a little bit racist, but that isn't always a bad thing. And before any rock-throwing starts, hear me out k?
Having a preconceived set of notions about anything or anyone means that your mind has a set of stereotypes that it uses. Stereotypes aren't bad - they help us to navigate the big, bad, confusing world by giving us a set of parameters in which to operate. Most intelligent people, however, then rearrange the ideas that we originally have to incorporate additional information. It goes without saying that you get the idiots who prefer to never exercise their brain.
The way I see it is stereotypes of all kinds - racist or not - are like the basic building blocks that we begin playing with first when we first find out about something, but later we can throw them out or keep them as a foundation when we learn more about that something.
Of course, I didn't figure all that out on my own. I read some of what I just said about stereotypes somewhere, but it makes sense to me.
And in fact, I see this happening everywhere. People build little boxes around other people they meet at first, and sometimes these little boxes fit perfectly but sometimes, the boxes get thrown out because they're wrong.
Experience seems to affect how often the boxes get thrown out: as I gain more experience in life - I wanted to avoid saying grow older! - my little boxes fit better more often or need only a little bit of modification here and there.
Maybe one day, I'll be able to size up people with just a glance! That would be so cool!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Why Agnes
I've just noticed that I've been writing about Agnes a bit, but never actually why he's called Agnes.
What happened was that he really offended some of the sales team by offending their clients (i.e. our advertisers i.i.e. the people who help us pay our bills) so badly that the clients were threatening to pull out all their advertising.
And so the sales team have a constant stream of complaints about him, but they also don't want to rock the boat too much by showing how much they really hate him. As an example of how much they hate him, they completely ignore him every single time he talks to them. Even if he goes over to their desk, and stands right next to them, and calls them by name, they just pretend he's not there and keep on with whatever they were doing before he came up to them until he goes away.
So they gave him a nickname, Shrek. But that wasn't really working out because it was a bit too obvious. Shrek is a tall, fat, hairy monster and Agnes is...well...also tall, kinda fat and hairy.
So we began experimenting with various nicknames. And nothing really worked until one day, J got a call and went to Agnes' desk to look for a set of headphones.
J had sent Agnes out of office on some work stuff, but Agnes forgot his headphones and insisted that J bring them down to the taxi stand where he was. And oh, J better make sure that she was bringing the right set of headphones - the white pair. And there were two sets of headphones on his desk all right.
Only problem: both were white.
To be fair, one was white with orange squiggly patterns, while the other was white with a black logo stamped across the plasticky part. But still...both were white!
So J just took one set and went down, but Agnes got all huffy and said that J had got it all wrong, and stomped back up to office to get his headphones. When I saw him, I was mildly surprised and asked him how come he was back.
He said rather sulkily, and here I quote verbatim from memory, "J took down the wrong pair of headphones. I told her the white ones already." Then he stomped off. Quite literally too, with loud stomping noises to express his irritation.
I had to bite my lips to keep from giggling.
When J came back, I told her Agnes came back, and she said yes, precious (girly name that resembles his real name too much to publish) apparently can use only one pair of headphones when he goes out.
I protested at the use of that girly name - it was far too pretty to use on him! And besides it sounded too much like his own name, so I suggested Agnes instead. For some reason, it caught on, and now everyone calls him that.
Even his cubicle neighbour who's put up a large corkboard and a calender right on the divider that separates their work stations so that she doesn't need to look at him. Did I mention we're not the only ones who've been offended by him? Just the ones who got stuck with him.
What happened was that he really offended some of the sales team by offending their clients (i.e. our advertisers i.i.e. the people who help us pay our bills) so badly that the clients were threatening to pull out all their advertising.
And so the sales team have a constant stream of complaints about him, but they also don't want to rock the boat too much by showing how much they really hate him. As an example of how much they hate him, they completely ignore him every single time he talks to them. Even if he goes over to their desk, and stands right next to them, and calls them by name, they just pretend he's not there and keep on with whatever they were doing before he came up to them until he goes away.
So they gave him a nickname, Shrek. But that wasn't really working out because it was a bit too obvious. Shrek is a tall, fat, hairy monster and Agnes is...well...also tall, kinda fat and hairy.
So we began experimenting with various nicknames. And nothing really worked until one day, J got a call and went to Agnes' desk to look for a set of headphones.
J had sent Agnes out of office on some work stuff, but Agnes forgot his headphones and insisted that J bring them down to the taxi stand where he was. And oh, J better make sure that she was bringing the right set of headphones - the white pair. And there were two sets of headphones on his desk all right.
Only problem: both were white.
To be fair, one was white with orange squiggly patterns, while the other was white with a black logo stamped across the plasticky part. But still...both were white!
So J just took one set and went down, but Agnes got all huffy and said that J had got it all wrong, and stomped back up to office to get his headphones. When I saw him, I was mildly surprised and asked him how come he was back.
He said rather sulkily, and here I quote verbatim from memory, "J took down the wrong pair of headphones. I told her the white ones already." Then he stomped off. Quite literally too, with loud stomping noises to express his irritation.
I had to bite my lips to keep from giggling.
When J came back, I told her Agnes came back, and she said yes, precious (girly name that resembles his real name too much to publish) apparently can use only one pair of headphones when he goes out.
I protested at the use of that girly name - it was far too pretty to use on him! And besides it sounded too much like his own name, so I suggested Agnes instead. For some reason, it caught on, and now everyone calls him that.
Even his cubicle neighbour who's put up a large corkboard and a calender right on the divider that separates their work stations so that she doesn't need to look at him. Did I mention we're not the only ones who've been offended by him? Just the ones who got stuck with him.
The Zara Man
So last year, the magazine I write for (hereafter known as my mag!) had a turning-9 party that was meant to celebrate the successful nine years as well as to give our advertisers something fun and to enhance their impression of my mag. J and I thought we'd like to dress up a bit, so we arranged to go shopping together. Actually I always think I'd like to dress up a bit!
We had some work stuff to do in different directions but we'd meet up in the super big shopping belt of Orchard Road later. When the time to meet was close, J msged me every little bit to ask if where I was, and to ask if I would be reaching soon - an action most unlike her laid-back, VERY independent self. By the way, I was only 15 minutes late because the work stuff took longer than anticipated.
You see what I didn't know was that J had asked Agnes to help her carry some stuff, and he had offered to wait with her for me. Not really something J felt comfortable with, but she didn't want to fob off his efforts to be more sociable within our little group too - yes, ever the optimistic leader, our J - so she said yes, and they settled in a little cafe for some coffee and a little chat.
When I arrived, and Agnes headed off home having declined our polite invitation to join our shopping trip, J began recounting the conversation rather incoherently with bursts of laughter. Here's what I gathered finally after J had finally stopped laughing long enough to tell me stuff properly.
Agnes' idea of a little chat consists almost entirely of boasting about himself. Apparently he used to be a big spender who spent so much in Zara that he called himself the Zara Man. At the height of his spending madness, he actually went and bought a grand total of ONE Raoul shirt. But he has now seen the folly of his spendthrift ways, and now buys cheap shirts instead because after all, they all look exactly the same don't they?
And his top recommendation for cheap shirts that look good and last? Mustafa Centre.
*For those who think I'm making up this conversation, I swear on all the gods that govern inspiration of all kinds that I'm not.
**And for those who are particularly obtuse, Agnes has terrible taste in clothing. He wears plaid short-sleeved shirts in revolting colour combinations that are too tight and too short ALL the time, with the exception of one time where the sartorial gods decided to spare our eyes, and made him decide to wear a black polo shirt that actually fits properly.
***As an example of how short and tight those plaid shirts are, the buttons are always straining, and you can see gaps in the buttonholes. The gaps in-between buttons gape constantly, and once when he sat down and linked his hands behind his head, we saw his very hairy, very white, very flabby belly. EUWCH.
We had some work stuff to do in different directions but we'd meet up in the super big shopping belt of Orchard Road later. When the time to meet was close, J msged me every little bit to ask if where I was, and to ask if I would be reaching soon - an action most unlike her laid-back, VERY independent self. By the way, I was only 15 minutes late because the work stuff took longer than anticipated.
You see what I didn't know was that J had asked Agnes to help her carry some stuff, and he had offered to wait with her for me. Not really something J felt comfortable with, but she didn't want to fob off his efforts to be more sociable within our little group too - yes, ever the optimistic leader, our J - so she said yes, and they settled in a little cafe for some coffee and a little chat.
When I arrived, and Agnes headed off home having declined our polite invitation to join our shopping trip, J began recounting the conversation rather incoherently with bursts of laughter. Here's what I gathered finally after J had finally stopped laughing long enough to tell me stuff properly.
Agnes' idea of a little chat consists almost entirely of boasting about himself. Apparently he used to be a big spender who spent so much in Zara that he called himself the Zara Man. At the height of his spending madness, he actually went and bought a grand total of ONE Raoul shirt. But he has now seen the folly of his spendthrift ways, and now buys cheap shirts instead because after all, they all look exactly the same don't they?
And his top recommendation for cheap shirts that look good and last? Mustafa Centre.
*For those who think I'm making up this conversation, I swear on all the gods that govern inspiration of all kinds that I'm not.
**And for those who are particularly obtuse, Agnes has terrible taste in clothing. He wears plaid short-sleeved shirts in revolting colour combinations that are too tight and too short ALL the time, with the exception of one time where the sartorial gods decided to spare our eyes, and made him decide to wear a black polo shirt that actually fits properly.
***As an example of how short and tight those plaid shirts are, the buttons are always straining, and you can see gaps in the buttonholes. The gaps in-between buttons gape constantly, and once when he sat down and linked his hands behind his head, we saw his very hairy, very white, very flabby belly. EUWCH.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
up and left
So I'm pretty sure I've mentioned Agnes, who is our official assistant editor but who is a perfectly ridiculous figurehead who's offended pretty much everyone in our little team in the short time he's been here. Oh and he's even offended Bud, who's so named because his favourite phrase is "no budget". How do you offend someone you don't even speak to except like once a month?!
Anyways, to cut it short, everyone has some personal issues with him - even the sales team! - and we all pretty much have to bite our tongue all the time when we're dealing with him in any way at all.
It got so bad that J had to have a talk with him and tell him that he needs to modify his working style and his work attitude and he said that he's been completely professional and that he would continue to be but he couldn't guarantee the behaviour of other people!
When J told me, I had this moment when I couldn't speak, and then I laughed so hard until I cried. As a frivolous aside, good thing my mascara didn't run!
This little talk didn't happen too long ago, just a week or so I think; and the result was that Agnes agreed to watch how he was portraying himself, and to be very responsible and professional.
HA! We should have known he couldn't keep his word.
On Thursday, I left the office with another colleague, D - we were going in the same direction and D said that he was taking a cab and would kindly drop me off at my destination. And as we were waiting for a taxi, D asked me so what my team would be doing now.
And I went "Hah?" - see, I do speak Singlish and very well too I might add.
D said, "well, since Agnes is leaving today, who will be replacing him?"
You could have knocked me over with a feather! I told him that couldn't be true and he insisted it was and said that Agnes had personally told D about it.
I whipped out my phone and called J, thinking that she would say that management thought it was better for Agnes to leave quietly but apparently J ALSO DID NOT KNOW!
Apparently Agnes believes it to be the height of professionalism to resign and leave without first discussing his current workload with his supervisor i.e. J, and without making sure that his work was all up-to-date. Plus when he tendered his resignation - directly to upper management i might add - Bud apparently asked him what his workload was like with the current team, and that liar said that he would email J and make sure J was up to date, and in any case, he didn't have much and that our work was just beginning.
Well, at least it won't be hard to keep my resolution to be nicer to him. He's not even here! Which by the way, means less mental barriers to my posting about the stupid things he's done.*
*I felt a bit wicked for even thinking it because you know...he was my colleague and I thought that if I kept thinking about the stupid things, then I would never get over it. But hey, I can't get over them anyways.
Anyways, to cut it short, everyone has some personal issues with him - even the sales team! - and we all pretty much have to bite our tongue all the time when we're dealing with him in any way at all.
It got so bad that J had to have a talk with him and tell him that he needs to modify his working style and his work attitude and he said that he's been completely professional and that he would continue to be but he couldn't guarantee the behaviour of other people!
When J told me, I had this moment when I couldn't speak, and then I laughed so hard until I cried. As a frivolous aside, good thing my mascara didn't run!
This little talk didn't happen too long ago, just a week or so I think; and the result was that Agnes agreed to watch how he was portraying himself, and to be very responsible and professional.
HA! We should have known he couldn't keep his word.
On Thursday, I left the office with another colleague, D - we were going in the same direction and D said that he was taking a cab and would kindly drop me off at my destination. And as we were waiting for a taxi, D asked me so what my team would be doing now.
And I went "Hah?" - see, I do speak Singlish and very well too I might add.
D said, "well, since Agnes is leaving today, who will be replacing him?"
You could have knocked me over with a feather! I told him that couldn't be true and he insisted it was and said that Agnes had personally told D about it.
I whipped out my phone and called J, thinking that she would say that management thought it was better for Agnes to leave quietly but apparently J ALSO DID NOT KNOW!
Apparently Agnes believes it to be the height of professionalism to resign and leave without first discussing his current workload with his supervisor i.e. J, and without making sure that his work was all up-to-date. Plus when he tendered his resignation - directly to upper management i might add - Bud apparently asked him what his workload was like with the current team, and that liar said that he would email J and make sure J was up to date, and in any case, he didn't have much and that our work was just beginning.
Well, at least it won't be hard to keep my resolution to be nicer to him. He's not even here! Which by the way, means less mental barriers to my posting about the stupid things he's done.*
*I felt a bit wicked for even thinking it because you know...he was my colleague and I thought that if I kept thinking about the stupid things, then I would never get over it. But hey, I can't get over them anyways.
nasty auntie
This is just a really big rant over one really horrible auntie at my local cze char stall, so feel free to skip it.
She's so mean, and careless, and so couldn't care less about her customers. I know we don't pay a lot and really, we're not expecting fine-dining service, but come on, a little courtesy surely couldn't kill you!
There was once the Boy and I went down for dinner and we ordered gong bao chicken with rice, and baby kailan in oyster sauce. And that mean auntie took my order as take-away when it wasn't. And instead of carefully taking it out of the box, she mixed it all up and served it like that!
It was so messy, and awful and that wasn't the worst of it. You know how you need some plain rice when you're eating heavily sauced food, but here the rice had soaked up all the sauce so that the chicken which were supposed to be lightly coated in the sauce was dry, and the dried chillies which you cannot eat unless you want your throat on fire and your stomach to have an instant ulcer were all shoved everywhere and we had to pick it out super slowly, and I felt so upset and grumpy over my dinner. It was utterly impossible to eat and in the end, I gave it up as a bad job. I also felt very irritated with the Boy for pretending it was okay, and for telling that mean auntie it was okay because he also didn't like how the rice and chicken and sauce were all messed up, and he tried eating it all up to appease me - though why he thought that would appease me when I couldn't eat my own dinner I don't know - and of course he couldn't.
So today this Mean Middle-Aged Woman (hereafter known as MMAW) was at the cze char counter, and I asked for gong bao chicken and she said no more, and that only the fried rices were available. I said ok, and ordered one fried rice with salted fish. BUT not wanting to just eat oily carbs and preserved meat, I asked politely in Chinese, "Auntie, can please add extra egg?" and she said nastily, "Of course cannot."
Now those of you who speak Chinese and/or frequent cze char stalls should know that this is like the height of nastiness for kopi-tiam aunties. One of the reasons that many people patronise kopi tiams is because you can customise your food. It's not gourmet haute cuisine - just good plain food at reasonable prices. You want something more, no problem. There's a little extra charge sometimes, but again that's expected and usually not a problem.
I was stunned by her attitude, and just stammered something like, "I don't mean for free of course" and she saw my consternation and tried backpedaling, "It's not about the money. We're just too busy."
So I just kept quiet and just sat at an empty seat to wait for my food, but really I wasn't very happy because one, she could have just said nicely that that wasn't possible right now, and second, her excuse was flimsier than a house of cards. Come on, how much time does it take to crack another egg into rice?!
And later, when I went home, I found that she had given me the WRONG order. I tell you, if I go down to eat and I see MMAW is the only person manning the cze char counter, I'm totally ordering from another stall or deliberately giving my order to some other auntie.
Evil dinner-destroying woman.
And in case you think I'm being a prissy princess about things, I noticed two other families deciding to buy their dinner from another stall because they were so put off by her - with one woman even saying loudly "No no, I don't want to order from you anymore" to another one of the aunties at the cze char stall who had tried to intervene and save the situation.
Once again, evil dinner-destroying MMAW.
She's so mean, and careless, and so couldn't care less about her customers. I know we don't pay a lot and really, we're not expecting fine-dining service, but come on, a little courtesy surely couldn't kill you!
There was once the Boy and I went down for dinner and we ordered gong bao chicken with rice, and baby kailan in oyster sauce. And that mean auntie took my order as take-away when it wasn't. And instead of carefully taking it out of the box, she mixed it all up and served it like that!
It was so messy, and awful and that wasn't the worst of it. You know how you need some plain rice when you're eating heavily sauced food, but here the rice had soaked up all the sauce so that the chicken which were supposed to be lightly coated in the sauce was dry, and the dried chillies which you cannot eat unless you want your throat on fire and your stomach to have an instant ulcer were all shoved everywhere and we had to pick it out super slowly, and I felt so upset and grumpy over my dinner. It was utterly impossible to eat and in the end, I gave it up as a bad job. I also felt very irritated with the Boy for pretending it was okay, and for telling that mean auntie it was okay because he also didn't like how the rice and chicken and sauce were all messed up, and he tried eating it all up to appease me - though why he thought that would appease me when I couldn't eat my own dinner I don't know - and of course he couldn't.
So today this Mean Middle-Aged Woman (hereafter known as MMAW) was at the cze char counter, and I asked for gong bao chicken and she said no more, and that only the fried rices were available. I said ok, and ordered one fried rice with salted fish. BUT not wanting to just eat oily carbs and preserved meat, I asked politely in Chinese, "Auntie, can please add extra egg?" and she said nastily, "Of course cannot."
Now those of you who speak Chinese and/or frequent cze char stalls should know that this is like the height of nastiness for kopi-tiam aunties. One of the reasons that many people patronise kopi tiams is because you can customise your food. It's not gourmet haute cuisine - just good plain food at reasonable prices. You want something more, no problem. There's a little extra charge sometimes, but again that's expected and usually not a problem.
I was stunned by her attitude, and just stammered something like, "I don't mean for free of course" and she saw my consternation and tried backpedaling, "It's not about the money. We're just too busy."
So I just kept quiet and just sat at an empty seat to wait for my food, but really I wasn't very happy because one, she could have just said nicely that that wasn't possible right now, and second, her excuse was flimsier than a house of cards. Come on, how much time does it take to crack another egg into rice?!
And later, when I went home, I found that she had given me the WRONG order. I tell you, if I go down to eat and I see MMAW is the only person manning the cze char counter, I'm totally ordering from another stall or deliberately giving my order to some other auntie.
Evil dinner-destroying woman.
And in case you think I'm being a prissy princess about things, I noticed two other families deciding to buy their dinner from another stall because they were so put off by her - with one woman even saying loudly "No no, I don't want to order from you anymore" to another one of the aunties at the cze char stall who had tried to intervene and save the situation.
Once again, evil dinner-destroying MMAW.
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