Tuesday 17th April
At lunch, Mom informs me she’ll be incommunicado for the whole of next week as she and the Expat will be vacationing in some remote part of Indonesia, a place specifically chosen to preclude any telecommunication “so his Blackberry won’t ring mid-intercourse like the last time”.
Back at work, notice an odd sound from behind the cubicle wall, and rise to see Anna-who does Design for our Youth & Fitness pullout-dabbing her eyes with wet moulds of tissue. I instantly decide that being a good listener isn’t a personal forte, and sneakily cave back into my own cubicle. Her sobbing grows even more animalistic then. The entire office knows about her recent miscarriage, which I suspect must’ve left a serious hormonal imbalance. If this distracting behavior continues, I’ll have to file an anonymous complaint to HR.
Friday 18th April
Can't stand,nearly broke my pelvis from having too much fun with a fitness ball.
Joyce comes over uninvited, with a barrel of KFC chicken. Apparently a local casting called having seen her portfolio, seeking to fill a receptionist role that required verbalizing two lines: “Hello, yes please hold.” and “Mr. Husin isn’t in at the moment”. Joyce insisted that her character be promoted to manager. When the casting director said that no real manager existed within the story, and the input of one would require a considerable re-write, she scorned “I won’t play no dumb secretary” before hanging up.
Wednesday 22nd April
I’ve burned through two Malboro 20’s since morning, as resistance nearly always backfires I begin brainstorming for a better approach. I download a 12-part Audio Hypnosis Program, and listen to an aged, comforting male voice lecture, while editing a full-page article meant for the Politics section. Minutes later I fall asleep at the table, startled by the dark, looming figure of Mr. Tim Lim who declares “Since you’ve had much rest, you can stay back with Anna after-hours to fact-check our weekend edition”.
Both Anna and I stay up well past midnight, she remains silent most of the time and speaks only to excuse herself to the toilet. I suspect the beginnings of an emotional breakdown. If she comes to work bearing a shotgun one day, I’ll be the first interviewed, assuming I survive of course. I must consider investing in a bulletproof vest someday, in my line of work: I am surrounded by psychos, and death is a daily threat.
Anna appears more serene with every trip to the loo, and when we finally part she reaches in for a cold hug and plants a dry peck on my left cheek.
Friday 24th April
Affendy will be staying for the entire weekend, apparently Wifey No. 2 has gone berserk.
She sensed unfamiliar perfume one of his shirts, and organized a public bonfire for all his stuff on their front lawn. Affendy notes considering suicide as a way out, but refuses to give his mother the satisfaction of another failed marriage.
He struggles in the squalor of my studio apartment, woken up numerous times by the blaring of passing 8-wheelers, his face struck by thick droops of green fluid sipping through the ceiling, and the floor’s jammed rubbish disposal next to which he found the fresh corpse of a small pony.Before hoisting down a handful of colored sedatives, he looks genuinely my way and says “Sham, this state you’re in, its amazing you haven't lost it”.
He promised a little help, beginning with an appointment with a Financial Advisor next week he has volunteered to pay for.
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