Would Hiding The Truth Make A Difference?

It was two days ago. I came to work as usual and prepared for another day of battle. The phone rang at 8.40am and I picked it up grudgingly. I was expecting to hear that somebody would be either late or on MC for the day but instead the call came from a familiar but unexpected voice. It turned out to be Mystic (that's not her real name) and she wanted a favour from me.

Mystic is this elderly lady from HR who had often kept to herself and only spoke to me whenever there was a need to and it was usually on an official basis. On several occasions, I had seen her around my neighbourhood either before or after work so I knew that her home was not very far from mine. On those occasions, I had caught up with her to have a brief chat and Mystic was always careful not reveal where she lived. Only once did she give me her block number as the one adjacent to mine and quickly changed the subject. She was always quick and evasive so I kept my distance because I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. Then late last year, I stopped seeing Mystic around work. I learnt from her fellow HR mates that she had gone on a prolong illness leave and that nobody knew when she was coming back. So when Mystic called me that morning, I was indeed very surprised to hear from her. Mystic needed to return the key to her drawer and she would like me to drop by at her place to collect it. I sensed a note of reluctance in her voice as she was asking me for that favour but I said ok. Mystic however had some conditions. She would only reveal her address when I could 'really confirm' that I was really dropping by her place after 6pm. Yeah… I thought to myself, how weird this old lady was. She seemed afraid and yet she wanted my help. I wondered why her immediate colleagues weren't helping her but I decided not to ask. She was even reluctant to give me her home number so she asked for a one-to-one exchange of our mobile numbers. And believe me, I was equally reluctant to exchange mobile numbers with this oh-so-secretive lady. I mean, what if she was a psycho or something? Ok, I was just kidding. I myself do not like colleagues to be calling my personal number on work so I never give my mobile contact to any colleague. And this secretive lady was so strange…I hardly trusted her, even though she is from HR. (Kwa! Kwa! Kwa!)

At about 6.15pm when I was ready to knock off for the day, I made that expected call to her. When she told me her block number this time, it was the block across the road from my block and not the adjacent one as she had told me 2 years ago. Now why wasn't I surprised? She said she was too weak to walk down the stairs and she asked if it was okay if I could come up to her apartment. No problem, I said. And she promised to look out for me from her corridor and wave when she sees me coming so that I wouldn't get lost. And no, I wasn't kidding about that part. J

Mystic lives on the second floor. Her block seemed a little more rundown compared to mine. When I reached her floor, I saw her standing right at the end of the corridor. I could tell that her neighbours had probably lived there for years. There were so many things outside each door. They ranged from laundry to chairs and boxes. In short, there was plenty of junk and the passageway was narrow so I had to worm my way through to get to her. There was a musty putrid smell coming from one of the apartments. I thought it was urine. Eww.

Mystic was clad in colourful pajamas and a cardigan, a direct contrast from the career woman image that she bore in HR. Her face was very pale and the colour seemed to be drained from her eyes. Her hair had grayed a fair bit and she looked very sick. I thought to myself, she looked like she had gone through some chemical treatment on her body. Was it chemotherapy? Oh dear!

She greeted me shyly and said, "I had a fall and hurt my leg lah." I looked at her legs but they were not on any casts. Instead, they were both covered with dark green socks on slippers. "I now have to depend on a walking stick to move around." But she was leaning on an umbrella as she was talking. I nodded politely and shared with her that my mother had gone through two operations on her legs a few years back. So was she going for physiotherapy regularly? Mystic looked lost and faraway. She suddenly snapped back and asked if I would like to come into her house. "It's ok, I need to get home as dinner is waiting" I thought I saw a look of relieve on her face.

Somehow something didn't seem right. Was she hiding the truth? She looked rather weak and sickly. I brushed it off and excused myself to head home. The whole picture didn't look right but would the truth matter? I was determined to finish this errand and move on.

The next day I went to the HR department to look for the person she had told me to. Let's call her Zoe. I thought Zoe would be expecting me but no, she was very surprised. Mystic had actually told Zoe that she would be coming back over the weekend to leave her keys in her drawer so that explained why her immediate colleagues did not offer her any help on collecting those keys. Zoe wanted to know how was Mystic and I told her about her claim on having a fall but Zoe shook her head confidently. Mystic had a reputation for hiding her personal life from everyone so she had kept everyone else guessing about her illness for the past year. However, her MCs revealed that she was going through either chemotherapy or radiotherapy at some clinic and Zoe suspected it was breast cancer. Oh dear… but why would Mystic want to keep such a secret from her colleagues? I also learnt that the company would be ending her contract soon and that Mystic would be retiring as she could no longer be put on the prolong illness leave anymore. Isn't that sad? She wanted to keep her distance and suffer quietly. It has been two days now and I'm still thinking about it. Would hiding the truth really make a difference? I can never understand her intentions….

The Announcement

It was the week after the latest secret office party. The boss wanted to give us an announcement and he planned to do it with a department lunch. A few days before this announcement, there was a lot of buzzing going around the office. There were many meetings and closed door discussions taking place. I sensed that there was something wrong with the mood around the office but I didn't know what it was. The boss's calendar showed that he was meeting a few people for lunch separately. Lots of people were curious about the upcoming announcement. There was even speculation that he just wanted to celebrate his birthday with us but I ruled that out because he was the sort of person who didn't like attention. Some people appeared to know what it was but didn't want to share. "Just wait for the lunch and we'll soon know what it's all about", declared someone who didn't care what was going on. She didn't think it was anything serious.

The day and moment finally arrived. Minutes before the gathering, I had seen him pacing up and down the office nervously. Something wasn't right. We gathered at the staff lounge and waited. There was a huge birthday cake in the middle of the room with the words "Happy Birthday BOSS" on it. Something told me that the cake wasn't part of the announcement. The boss appeared surprised and touched when he saw the cake. As we sang him a birthday song, I felt the uncomfortable mood in the air. He thanked everyone with a shaky voice and began his awkward and strange presentation. That was so unlike of him. His voice appeared shaky and cracking. He showed us a slide with some words all jumbled up and told us about how the brain is still able to interpret jumbled words after some try. Then he spoke about mountains and how fascinated he was about them. He told all of us that we all have our own mountains to climb and we should all find our own mountains to climb if we didn't have one. I wasn't sure what he was getting at. All through the years that we have worked with him, he was known for talking in codes and analogies to us. He was never direct. Most of the time, we could never quite figure out what he was saying because they were always ambiguous. At the end of the presentation, he finally dropped the bomb. He was leaving us and Mr. Suck-the-boss's-ass has been promoted to be his successor. The room was heavy with silence. At that moment, we just simply froze. He tried to sound cheerful as he quickly changed the subject that we should all began our lunch but nobody moved. He seemed surprised that we were surprised. He assumed that everyone already knew about his plans to leave.

Finally but slowly, some of us started heading toward the buffet table. Some people started to approach him. There were people who broke down to cry. I walked toward the buffet queue in a trance. I couldn't believe what just happened. So that explained the buzzing and the many closed door meetings. How on earth did Mr. Suck-the-boss's-ass get promoted? He is one of the members of the group that partied whenever the boss was out of the office. He seemed like a slimy guy. Can we trust him? Will he be a fair boss? His gang was of course happy for him. They've got one of their own who will be sitting at the top. He will be the guy who will determine our bonuses, salary increments and happiness with this work environment. I hope that he doesn't comprise his management role with his personal friendship toward his gang. I really hope he will play fair and not show any favoritism.

The week had too many surprises. Just too many for me to accept.

Secret Office Parties

I was feeling hungry one afternoon as my lunch was already digested by then. I was planning to get a snack from the pantry when my fellow hungry colleague called my extension.
"Psssst! Do you notice that a party is about to take place in the staff lounge?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I sure did."

We had both seen a big cake, probably a birthday cake of some sort, and some boxes of food neatly stacked on the table in there. There was a few people busy laying out the food nicely on the table. The boss had forbidden food to be brought into the lounge but certain people had the privilege to flout the rules. I saw that one guy was busy taking pictures of his colleagues and another lighting the candles on the cake. It was also the umpteenth time that month that a party was being celebrated there. It’s usually the same group of people.

"Do you think it's for the boss?" My colleague was curious because the boss's birthday was indeed coming soon.

"I don't know. But even if it was, I don't think we would be invited." I told her. Most of the people in that room were of the same gang. They're the ones who kissed the boss's ass whenever he was around but took long breaks whenever the boss was out for a meeting. In this office, there was such thing being in or out of that group. Those who were out, didn't like them. Those who were in were proud to be one of them. Being in or out of a group has its privileges, especially when the group has certain people who feel rich with power and use it to gain popularity. There'll always be people who will get away with murder. That's life in this organization.

"Let's not go to the pantry so soon," replied my ever hopeful colleague. "If this was the boss's birthday, I'm sure they would invite us. They have a lot of food in there." As she spoke those words, the group in that room broke into a birthday song. The walls in the office were very thin and we could hear the song loud and clear. However, we couldn't quite make out whose name it was.
"Did you hear the name?"
"Nope"
"Do you think it was for the boss?" I looked up and saw the boss leaving his room and heading for the lobby. He had returned to his room to grab something and leave again. The lounge was totally out of his sight. He had no idea there was a secret party behind one of those walls. "Nope, I just saw him leaving the office. He didn't seem to notice."
"Dang!"
"Yeah, let's get some pantry food."
Life is never fair.

The Skiver

The Monday morning blues were getting heavier. Most of us had to battle the peak hour crowd and drag ourselves to work. Starting the week is never easy. It is so much different from ending the week on a Friday. For some reason, most of us are more productive toward the end of the work week rather than the beginning.

I glanced around the stillness of the office as I turned on my computer. Most people were late as usual. I saw the boss making his usual rounds as he headed out to take the lift down. God knows where he heads to every morning at 8.30am. I wonder what is usually on his mind when he's walking around the office in the morning. Does he make a mental note of the early birds and the latecomers every day? Does he count the number of cups at the sink before tossing them into the bin? Lately he's been having this fetish for trying to make the cups disappear from the sink that's been left around for too long. No matter how many cups he threw away, they just kept reappearing the next morning.

By 9.00am, the row of desks near me slowly came to life with keyboards clacking, CPUs beeping and phones ringing - an indication that work had finally started. At 9.15am I walked past the front desk and noticed that it was still in another time zone. Perhaps that area was an hour behind our local time. The place was still in darkness. It was still Sunday in this part of the office. A dispatch guy impatiently dumped a parcel on that desk and strode off.

At 9.15am, I could finally hear the whirling of the PC behind me. The sound of the flask and the smell of bread and coffee told me that the person behind was having breakfast. Ah, the luxurious smell of someone having breakfast at this hour. The email finally came at 9.30am. It was from the one who had just finished her breakfast. The lady in front was not coming in for the day - again. It was either Laura or Hardy who had to help out and they had done so many times already. They were fed up. The bitching and complaining would come shortly. It was dreadful but there was no running away and there was nothing much I could do. 'Why couldn't Flip-flop lady be in the rotation?', they would ask. They had seen her taking frequent naps, surfing the net, looking at photos and watching videos while claiming to be extremely busy. They simply detested the Flip flop lady. The breakfast lady always turned a deaf ear. Flip Flop lady and Sour faced slob (a.k.a. lady in the front) were her best friends. She would never betray them. Never. This was work not kindergarten, she ran the team like the latter.

Reluctantly I got up to present the problem to her. It wasn't the first time and it would not be the last. It was going to be a waste of energy but Laura and Hardy wanted me to something badly. I saw the look on her face. It didn't look good. She would avoid me if she could. I could tell that she wished that the floor boards below us would swallow her up whenever I came to her with a real life problem of what was happening. "Could you put Flip Flop at the front desk today instead? The others feel they could use another hand." I asked her the forbidden question again. She didn't seem to know the answer to that one though.

"I will look into it," was the famous reply. She needed some time to think as always. (Translation: I hope to escape this one again. Well, I just like to sit on problems and wait for them to vaporize into thin air. Why, is there a problem with that? )
"When would that be?" I asked.
"Maybe I'll let you know next month." (Translation : I'm waiting for the cows to come home. As you know they have four stomachs and they need to eat grass like forever. So that would be like never and then I wouldn’t have to come back to you at all. )
"Can we not wait too long?" (Translation : Is that a cobweb that I see on your face? Oh, there's even a fly caught on it. Eww!)
"I'll get back to you. I'm busy" (Translation : Scram!)

This scene would always be like another ground hog day whenever Sour faced disappeared from work. It was frustrating. Do you know that we actually have people who do not work 47% of the year on the payroll of our organization? I bet you wouldn't believe it but I actually did the math and worked it all out. No kidding! Sour faced lady only worked 53% of the year. Just add the total annual leave, unpaid leave, medical leave, public holidays and weekends and you'll know what I mean. *
Does the boss know? If I told on her, would he believe me? There could be bigger problems with her later too. What about Laura and Hardy? We can't go on like this forever. I'm in a tough situation here. Help me pray for a miracle. God, please show me the way. I really don't know what to do.

* The calculations:
1) Number of days during weekends = 52 weeks x 2 = 104 days
2) Public holidays = 10 days
3) Annual Leave = 14 days
4) Medical Leave ( yes, she actually consumes all of it for the whole year.) = 30 days
5) Unpaid leave = 15 days
Total = 173 days
To work out the % , take 173/365 x 100% and you'll have 47% or thereabouts.

The day the Liverpool FC players came to Novena Square.

It was shortly after 2pm when I noticed that the office seemed somewhat deserted. Lots of people were not at their desks and it was already 30mins past lunch hour. Ah, I suspected it was because the Liverpool FC players were in town and they were right here at The Velocity, which was just below our tower. Then I heard a couple of girls giggling excitedly as they headed toward the lift. I knew where they were heading. Without thinking, I followed them into the lift. As they say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

In the lift, we met somebody from the HR department. "Hem-em, where are you going?" she asked cheekily.
"Where are YOU going ? " Chirped my colleague in a playful way.
"To the ATM machine."
"Yeah, right. And we're crossing over to Tower A. Haha."
The lift stopped on the 15th floor and in walked in another staff armed with a camera. More joined us as the lift headed down. Ok, so we know that half the company could be out there looking for their football idols right now.

The crowd at Velocity was huge. So many Liverpool fans were out there wearing their jerseys and caps. Students, mostly from the nearby St Michael's School, were distributing foolscap papers among their classmates as they prepared to get autographs. It was all pretty exciting. I've never been a football fan and I know nothing about the game except that we see many guys chasing a small ball around a field. Heh heh!

"Torres!" yelled a fan who was sitting on his friend's shoulder to get a view. Lucky him. He was probably getting the best view up there. I could see nothing from where I was except for the many heads and bodies surrounding us and none of them belonged to the Liverpool players at all. I tried standing on tip toe and peering from behind shoulders but it was no use. Me and my colleague tried to worm our way through the crowd but it was difficult. There were so many fans out there and the stage was completely blocked by the throngs of people surrounding the area . The angle of the building and the limited standing space made it difficult to see anything at all. Sigh. I was never going to get a glimpse of them.

I glanced at my watch and decided to give up. Oh well, there was work to do. However, I did learn a name of one of the Liverpool players though.. My colleagues have been raving over how handsome Fernando Torres is. He's the guy with the blond hair and I've yet to take a good look at him. I'd probably have to pay more attention to the news tonight and look up his picture on the net. Haha! Well, the upcoming football match between Singapore and Liverpool will be a most watched event. Will Singaporeans support Liverpool or our home team? Now that's a tough one. Hahaha! As for me, nah…I don't understand football. I'd rather be catching up with my 'zzz's. (snore….)

Sorry folks. I have no photos to share of this event.