Ex-student At Work

What follows is not a well-balanced argument, nor a good example of how a man’s life should be lived. It contains no perseverance about how I could produce such mindless piece of writing or whatsoever, and so there shall no misleading opinions be deduced after reading this week’s note. I am working now, having a job which turns out to be rather enjoyable than not and essentially serve the purpose of a life cycle, much like anyone of you actually, only that we speak in a quite unparallel universe. Some say that life is much of like a wheel; there are times when you at the bottom point, but soon you will find yourselves at the top too. Wise one I thought. Even Albert Einstein made a quote of his own that life is much like a bicycle and you have to keep moving to maintain the balance. Wise one too I thought, except that he was a bit wrong. The thing is though, Einstein was born in Germany, a country which I believe now and then had no road nails, which are inevitable here. In basic language for people who live in this country, that means a slight chance of having a tire puncture while you pedaling your bike along the dusty streets. Eventually, you will lose your balance and suffer from something Shakespeare had described as “never run smooth”. But I don’t give it a damn because things revolving around are still in very good control, as it turns out.

And it’s the same story too with the course of good life, it did never run smooth. Despite so, it is extremely important to move on and hold onto what we believe in, that things may just work out. After a deliberate consideration, I would say that school life was pretty much pleasurable, though I never develop a sense of missing it like those bunch of hyperbolic melancholies do. However, as a university student, I did find that things going around was more sort of.. let’s say out of control, because there were times where things went a bit wrong: caught speeding on a motorway, had a birthday muffin which unconsciously contained a tiny dose of drag in it, violated public convenience by vomiting on roadside, had security guards’ eyes locked on me while being slightly drunk on a train station. Obviously none of the stories are very inspirational or I am proud of, but it is just a giggle to recall it today and become a sheer joy to remember. Though today, it was a revelation that I passed the medical examination while applying for the job, thanks to the tame dose of marijuana-ish bakery back then. 

"I will never invite my superiors to come over for a dinner at my house."

Now before you leap into conclusion, I shall explain my own theory which separates between study and work life. Now I couldn’t care less of be it a high school or university student, but the essence is you sit in the boxy classroom and find that people around you are actually the same. Well yes, some are blessed with the brain size of a cow’s spleen, but truth be told, we sit in the same height as anybody else and that makes all students firmly grounded to the earth, plenty of oxygen to breath. But obviously, ostensibly, in the olden days the course of going to school or university every morning was more often than not highlighted by a dreary feel, that more quizzes or assignments were up ahead and just maybe, everyone wished to end it soon. However, work life turns out to be nothing but living in Mars where you should stay wide awake while inhaling almost nothing and as a result, you cough or choke rather uncomfortably. In the university, I was once teamed with a bright guy whose study room is nothing but the lab of a geeky pharmacologist who is researching for the anti-serum of Anthrax; it has scrap papers covering the entire flooring instead of ceramic tiles and window frame as bookshelf.  It was by far the most outrageous personality I have ever come across, until last week in the office. Some ginger young lady yelled frivolously after complaining about being unable to dial a phone number via the Bluetooth system in her recently delivered car and therefore, asked for a complete refund of the car she had bought. That particular day certainly didn’t run smooth and after what it seemed like the hubbub of unfashionable haunt, I am afraid that it was not very wise of her to do so, partly because it was just a small electrical infidelity. I might consider for a refund under the case if she dialed home and the system engaged her to a post office in India.

Eventually and since the bright guy could not manage to find an answer to his Anthrax research, he is employed now and welcomes work life as I did. The tire puncture, I mean the ginger young lady also had found a cure to her car’s Blueteeth syndrome, thanks to the boffins at workshop who work brilliantly. I am not in any minute going to suggest that some foul-mouthed customers has killed the motivation of stepping into the office every morning, but the act of returning back into the dull classroom for a post degree study is actually not bad concept either, it was the sense that one could learn something new every single day that dominates, not least of which is the sheer experience of befriending with almost everyone, something which work life misses. It just is because I will never invite my superiors to come over for a dinner at my house, and hopefully people from recruitment department are unaware with this note, because I am.  Until the next posting, enjoy!

Consumerism

This note is especially dedicated to a stranger who just had birthday and invited me to come over for a nice lunch, whilst annoyingly asked about my usual piece of reading material. Truthfully, nothing interesting to write about, so I shall just make up some story to amuse him. So this week I came across with an idea of introducing myself to the principal of consumerism. As a start off, I am a logical customer who tends to put the aspect of reliability on the upper checklist before deciding to take on any goods. It has become a nonnegotiable demand that anything I buy should last and as reliable as a wood burning stove. Some of these things do perform superbly over the years and without any shadow of doubt, I developed a sense of brand loyalty to these products. Not much to your surprise, I rarely replace what I have bought unless if it had broken down or decided to kill itself, which I completely realize is a bit unfathomable. An appropriate example to this outlandish theory would be the cycle of cell phone usage over the years. The first replacement occurred as the old one was stolen by some poor bastard. The other two were replaced as both refused to start and sold with each price cheaper than a pair of weekend movie ticket. The third one did better, but still was shipped away with some majorly noticeable mechanical breakdowns. The last one still runs very well until today and stayed longest than all others. I had it replaced because.. I decided too, naturally as the dawn of consumerism arrives. Another example of insane mechanical ingenuity would be my Playstation game console which I have owned since ages and not once it has broken down, it is unbelievably reliable that I bet I will still be able to play Mario Bros while waiting for the delivery of my grandson at the hospital. Of course, its reliability is something I am very pleased with, but at the same time fed up with too. How could an electrical device last that long and not even once having a single failure within its lifetime?! It is simply jaw-droppingly good.

Obviously, ostensibly, not every product will boast this particular quality; some of it might perform even better. My bike, which I liked very much and unfortunately crashed by a yobbo onto the curb, also has done very well over the years. It visited the workshop regularly for periodical services, had some of its components replaced, though it was plain to see that as the year corked away another season of its youth, the little road-runner started to catch a flu. Its speedometer starts to lie by developing an electrical infidelity, showing 60kph when it feels like the tree passed by is nearly standstill. The rear shock absorber is shyly leaking, even as I am writing now. By tomorrow morning, the rear suspension will be as rock hard as like having granite bolted on it. The list went on with its stolen underbody protector and damaged front fender. Bottom line is, this bloody thing will dig the pocket deeper and yet I haven't had the thought of selling it. Comparably, the mobile phone stayed nearly as long as the bike, however unlike the bike, the mobile phone lacked one small ingredient which preventing me from giving it up: memory. The mobile may have a total of 4Gb storage space, but the bike carries a much much bigger memory in it. Technically speaking, it would be overshadowed by its successors and rivals. The body has the weight of a cathedral coupled with a small engine and as a result, it is a far cry from being an acceleration thrill. The firing unit drifts away from being frugal, not to mention its vibration which is capable of shoving anyone's spine into the head. Despite all these, I am still looking forward to be on the road with it. Naturally, non-automotive people won't get this odd sense of belonging, though I also find it hard to find joy only from collecting mobile phones and staying up late because of having a war in a game console. But it just is a little good old charmer, and that is the end of it.

"This note is especially dedicated to a stranger who just had birthday and invited me to come over for a nice lunch."

Unlike my game console which I reckon still functioning tens of years later, the bike just won't. At some point it has to be sacked away and I chalk this up to an inevitable reason. You see, I never sense that the game console is a representation of social status like any other game maniac does. The mobile phone and car on the other hand prove to be the item which denotes one's social class. Well yes, I would admit that I have spotted a McDonald's delivery boy with his ear stuck on a high-end mobile computer at the time, which presumably was a rather outrageous sight to spot. Still, it was not a Vertu. It would be fair to say that I am an automotive enthusiast, yet the act of going around on a bike will not be much help as to form a self image. This is precisely when consumerism kicks in and it really depends on personal view about stuffs that lift your image. It is despicable, though I only find it applied to things which have wheels. I once saw a single Versace jacket which costs more than the entire clothes I have in my closet, but someone must have bought that otherwise the brand would have gone bust since donkey’s year. Yet up to now, I am quite certain that I will never buy that jacket whilst I could find a jacket with similar form, color, shape, fabric or texture with much cheaper price tag. Though when I could afford the luxury, I would drive a top-range European four-wheeler amidst a traffic jam instead of gets stuck in a dull people-carrier autobox. It is certain that cars are reminiscent shape of social status, yet for some reason, I could not form a response which seals the argument that clothes aren't. At the end of the day, let's face the fact that the doorman at The Ritz won't let me to park a Hyundai i10 on his shiny lobby, but I could still walk into a Louis Vuitton store in Paris while wearing a pair of J-brand cargo pants. It is ashamed that the necessity of having to have a reliable product is slowly corrupted by the greed to show off, but it is the only way the dazzling world of socialites evolves and top end luxurious brand are kept alive by these sort of people. Until the next posting, enjoy!

Dawn of Future Advertising

After two months of staring at blank page, bunch of exciting news eventually stuff the virtually hollow idea bin, and it is my great pleasure to announce that some of them are actually quite an amusement to be written. I may as well write about the intensifying crisis in Libya, but there is a small problem. I know that the president of Libya is called Mouammar Khadafi, yet I stumbled across upon several variations of spelling his sure name as I tried to google this chap. There are in fact Ghadafi, Ghaddafi, Qaddafi, Khadafy and of course, Khadafi. Now, I don’t quite like the idea of having a group of intelligent Libyan military squad knocking on my door step on three o’clock in the morning, charging me with explosive gunfire since I was unable to spell the name of their leader properly in my note. Following this dreadful vision is a refusal to write anything about Libya, although I do wish Libyan people all the very best and hope the country will resort to a stable condition anytime soon.

Moving on. Couple of days ago I saw a poster which advertised about Kitaro holding concert in Jakarta on 7^th April. Later on in the afternoon that day, I received a text message promoting internet-based concert ticket of the hyper media frenzy: Justin Bieber. As for now, I will actually post some comments about this colliding topics altogether. I don’t have all Kitaro’s records, but I like him as a visionary artist who inspires message of world piece to the modern culture through music and I am quite sure that he will mount a successful concert. Now, you might assume that I will comment about Justin Bieber. And you are right. I mean how could possibly someone send a text message about anything to anyone? It really starts to get annoying and on the verge of irritating; I have received hundreds of message sent by numerous incompetent bank officers, offering zero interest loan or credit installment. Then some incompetent bloke does business of selling concert ticket using text message. I mean the world must have gone insane, I could have received a text message just about everything tomorrow, probably whether I am interested in undergoing a cosmetic surgery or joining a ballet-dance course. 

"The simple fact of this useless breakthrough in promotional media is: they lost some dime and I lost some time."

This phenomenon is of course a recent trend in urban society and yet I believe there has been thousands of complains from cell phone users. Interestingly, the most vocal voice comes from users who travels abroad and brought the cell with them. It is generally known that cell providers charge users for roaming fee every time we pick up phone calls or receive text messages abroad, and this is where the problem arises. The travelers are billed with some conspicuous charges for receiving text messages, some of which happen to be sent by incompetent banking officers or other incompetent gadflies. Predictably, users claiming providers were not prompt into action upon this issue and I am sort of with them. Not much to your amusement, I expect text messages fed into my mobile to be either a pleasant surprise or straight away important. For instance, sending out greeting cards by means of short messaging service is fine by me. I did this on various occasions like Christmas, birthdays or New Year, although I still own the essence of being a pedant that sending an actual greeting card is a fashionably proper way of message personalizing to my addressee. Another example of important message is perfectly described by my working colleague who texted me about a performance review presentation on the following day. It was definitely not a nice information, but it was clearly important.

Having the line drawn, I shall clarify my point of view. Firstly, I am sure that those bank officers are well educated and properly bright people, so bright that I was told they traded customer data among banks, which in the language of Uzbekistan means a violation against privacy policy. This explains perfectly about how my friend be text-messaged by a bank officer, who offer him to apply for a credit card, when in fact he doesn't have any fund in that particular bank.  Yes, they constantly say “ignore this message” if I don’t need the offer, however I still find it inconvenient that I have spent even a fractional amount of my time and battery charge of my phone, just to view the message which I was not initially targeted at all. Why won’t they spend a bit more of their energy to ensure that their potential customer could spend less? And then there is the Justin Bieber’s concert, which is presumably not a pleasant surprise and will never make it to be important. Some girls will strongly beg to differ, but I can argue and I will. Here, in Indonesia, and much like everywhere else in the planet, mobile users are obliged to submit their basic information to the providers for database purpose. I distinctly remember that I typed my name correctly, which is a very boyish name. On the contrary, never before in my life had I seen any video footage of Bieber’s concert which includes male audience. Besides, the only reason I become a potential customer of Bieber’s concert is either I decided to be gay or I have no friends at all. The simple fact of this useless breakthrough in promotional media is: they lost some dime and I lost some time. If the people from advertising media claim that they don’t have access to customer database as regards to privacy policy, which I completely refuse to buy, then here’s the top tip: squeeze your brain harder, otherwise you will ruin the artist’s image. Although as a result of this inconvenience, I won’t have bankers fellow to dine on my table and have assumed that Bieber’s popularity has went west. Until the next posting, enjoy!