Work life balance?

Severance (Miniseries, S1, E1-9, 2022)

Director: Ben Stiller, Aoife McArdle

Apple TV

First, we were told that our vocation determines us; staying true to fulfilling the goals of our job is equivalent to being close to Divinity. But just see what it let us to - a social classification system that essentially pigeon-holes one's future by birth. Karl Marx then asserted that life is more than mere monetising one's labour. Man has to find balance in maximising time spent on Earth by indulging in things that excite him, maybe hunting, art, music, etcetera. And that led to Lenin extrapolating it to stir the working class to rise against their enslavers.

Now we are told that we should find a life-work balance. We should not bring home the stresses of our workplace home and vice-versa. We cannot let our personal dilemmas affect our work performances as well. So what better way to severe these two intertwinings? 

This is the premise of this miniseries. Workers of an unspecified company doing seemingly so much yet nothing agree to undergo this dissociative procedure. A small device is implanted in the brain, which gives no memory of their outside life once they enter the office. Essentially, they lead two individual lives, oblivious of their two lives.

Soon the workers realise that there is more than meets the eye. The latest recruit wants to resign, but she is told resignation is not an option. Pretty soon, the workers discover a way to find their outside life. This leads to many events with a nail-biting cliffhanger at season end. The miniseries is far from over and has built a cult following. Season 2 is in the pipeline as internet sleuths try to identify the Easter Egg cues that may explain the whole meaning behind the story.

On the side, the viewers also sense that the tale also takes a swipe at the modern environment and etiquette of the typical modern workplace. There are plenty of unproductive actions in the name of work, and there is a tendency to self-aggrandise one's frivolous 'success'. This 'success' motivates workers to continue their pursuit to lick the boots of higher management and the imaginative figures of 'Big Bosses'. Non-conformers are labelled troublemakers, and their career paths can be far from smooth.

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As long as you provide!

Metamorphosis (Verwandlung; 1915)
Author: Frank Kafka

A Tamil saying goes like this - செய்யும் தொழிலே தெய்வம் - your job is your divinity. Therefore, one is expected to perform his work to perfection as it is as if he is serving God, as it is divinity to serve. It may be his reason for existence.  

This is probably what Appa held close to his heart. Without taking a single leave from his bank job, which he worked for 40 years over, the same place of work after leaving school, he must have been an exemplary worker. But, with the ease of mobility and money jingling in his pockets, it must have been the freedom he missed so much in the latter part of his life when his eyesight failed, and body broke down after repeated strokes.

After reading Kafka's 'Metamorphosis, I realise that narrating a story is not just telling an event and shocking the readers with bizarre storylines and twisted endings. Instead, it matters that many untold nuances and symbolisms lie buried somewhere for readers to unravel. 

A short and straightforward story told in 50 pages but packed with moral and philosophical queries about life. In a gist, it is a tale of a travelling salesman, Gregor Samsa, who finds himself transformed into an insect when he gets up for work one morning. He just could not get up because of his altered morphology. He had been a diligent worker and perhaps also bullied by his employer for his hardworking attitude. Gregor has to work hard to pay the loan that he took from his boss when his father went bankrupt. He also wants to send his beloved sister to a music school to perfect her violin skills.  

On the morning of his metamorphoses, everybody in the house is getting anxious. Gregor had obviously missed his train for an outstation assignment. Even Gregor's chief clerk is pounding on his door to hurry up. 

Gregor is still immobile, not used to using his newfound torso and limbs. Finally, after finally opening the door, everybody goes scurrying. His mother faints. 

As time flies by, everybody realises that Gregor's condition is permanent. The only person who seems to empathise with his situation is his sister, Grete. The mother still faints at the sight of him. The father is furious. He hits Gregor with an apple which hits him at a tender area and causes a festering wound. The father, who appeared weak and old before, has to get back to the workforce as the financial coffers dwindle. Suddenly, he becomes springy and is proud of his newfound post as a bank security personnel. However, he resents his situation as he has to work hard to support his family at an advanced age. Secretly he is angry with Gregor for his condition. Mrs Samsa supplements the family income by sewing. Grete starts working as a salesgirl, and the family rents part of their house.

On one evening, Grete was entertaining the tenants with her violin rendition. Mesmerised with her playing, Gregor sneaks out to listen. The tenants, who made it clear earlier that they are fastidious about cleanliness, are livid upon catching a glimpse of a vermin wandering about in the house. They refuse to pay the outstanding bills. Mr Samsa, angry with Gregor for the hardship he had brought upon the family, locks him up in his room. It was Grete who suggested that perhaps 'something should be done about her brother'. 

Gregor, who was already very ill from his earlier injury, dies due to malnutrition.

Gregor's death coincidentally coincides with the beginning of spring. With the start of a new season, Greta and her parents, after a long time, take a much-deserved ride to the countryside to enjoy the beauty of nature. It seems that a new dawn had befallen upon them. With newfound freedom and independence, everybody has much to live for. The parents were considering a suitable match for their young daughter. 

It seems that the ability to work and bring home the bacon gives one the shield of confidence. But, at the same time, when there is no reason for a person to work, when everything is provided for, or perhaps with affirmative policies, the person will generally degenerate to a lazy slob and quite lethargic about everything. But, conversely, when the tide changed, when things are so rosy anymore, the will for survival will push him to work even when it used to be undoable before.

No one is indispensable. When one person is taken away from the job market, somebody else will quickly move in to take over. We all like to think the tears, blood and sweat we toil for the family will be eternally appreciated. Perhaps not. When our existence is troublesome, to maintain sanity, we may just be discarded. Life has to go on for the living. The old and the infirm have to make way for the others to act out on the stage.

[P.S. Thanks to MEV for the suggestion]

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Mission accomplished!

Mr Dalip Singh Kokra
(1922-2020)

Yet another story of an immigrant who started with nothing and went on to create a legacy of sorts for himself and his offsprings. I had the pleasure of knowing Uncle Dalip Singh when I entered my wife's family more than thirty years ago and had taken part in many happy and sad events as they came and went.

Over the years, I made a composite picture of his life and times starting as a night school guard and gradually rising to be the President of the local temple.

As a young man, with scant of education, he arrived in Malaya with hope in his chest, strength in his limbs and resolve on his mind. As a night guard, he had built quite a reputation as a goto man for petty cash. Towards the latter part of the month, it was a common sight to see peons, clerks and even teachers forming a beeline outside his quarters requesting friendly loans (at 'reasonable' interest, of course). He was a leading a thrifty life, appreciating the simpler things of life to raise his five children. Not happy with just wasting his day time idly, he decided to become a travelling salesman. With his faithful wife as an aide, he drove to small rubber estates and oil palm plantations to sell sarees and Indian clothes on credit. With the little remunerations that he obtained from these, he uplifted the standard of living of his family. After he retired from Government employment, he moved into a large landed property in the more affluent side of town. With his tenacity, he educated his children and became a respected figure in society. 

He is a living proof to the adage 'hard work never kills anyone'. Until about six years ago, at a ripe age of 92 years, he was still seen driving around the housing estate. After spending quality time during his 98th birthday with his loved ones, he decided to call it quits. He became progressively weak, bade his farewell and passed the baton to the generation next to bring it to the finish line.

Some would simply throw in the towel at first sight of an obstacle. They would blame everyone else except themselves for their predicament. Others would approach these hurdles somewhat differently. When the barricade is too high, they will go under it.  If it is thick, they will go around it. Wailing and garnering sympathy is not going to take us anywhere. That, maybe the life lesson I learnt from Sadarji.

Parnam, till we meet on the Otherside if we do!

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The new norm?

That a look at these two Presidential debates, the first one was in 1960 between JFK and Nixon, whilst the second one happened recently in the year 2020. See the vibes surrounding the two debates. Without a shadow of a doubt, there is much professionalism and decency in the former whereas in the latter we only see crass behaviour and lack of common decency.

In our formative years, we were taught that to listen and to let another to speak are common decencies. Only the immature and ill-mannered interferes one's conversation we were told. We also trained to fight facts with facts, to argue it out like gentlemen in decorum, without being personal or hitting below the belt.

Somewhere along the way, while we were napping, a lot of things changed.

The '90s brought in the internet culture and work ethics of the likes of Bill Gates and Steve Jobs. Workers were expected to dress down to work. Work time needs to be flexible, they said. Jobs is famously known to walk around bare feet and is said to stretch out his naked feet on the office tables whilst discussing work matters with his contemporaries. Seniority went out of the window when open office concept came to being.

Smartphones did not make people smarter. It only built them a personalised echo chamber for them to wallow around in the sweetness of their pixelated self. The 'self-generation' that did not give two hoots about the feelings of the about the other morphed. Under the cloak of anonymity, they would swashbuckler their thoughts with the sorcery of keyboards which are not their views actually but mere parroting of the hidden hands of the cabal.

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Your raison d'être?

Jiro Dreams of Sushi (2011)
Netflix

At a time when most people could hardly read, write or count, people like Charles Babbage (1791- 1871) and Ida Lovelace (1815-1852) were working on something totally irrelevant to their time. Babbage is course credited for the general-purpose computer, and Lady Lovelace is said to have written the first computer algorithm. Laypersons would have scorned upon them, thinking that they were weirdos living in their own dream world. Nobody would have thought that an infallible self-calculating machine was even possible, what more writing computer programmes?

Like that, many go on doing things in their lives, thinking that the thing that they do is the reason for their existence. But who really knows what is your raison d'être? Surely there is no laid roadmap given to us upon birth. Things that you do in childhood, the upbringing that you had, the friends that you cross path with and develop bonds all determine the direction of life and the career path that you choose. Who knows what your dharma is?

Most people let the stream of life take its course to lead their life path. Everywhere the wind blows, they set sail and head on all steam ahead. They reap the maximum from the journey of life in the voyage of their life mission. Like a rolled down carpet, some have it easygoing. Others go wayward but realign to the right path later. A fraction makes the best of whatever is laid on their plate. Some prosper late, Others never.

This exciting documentary tells the story of an 82-year-old (at the time of filming, now 93) sushi chef in Ginza who the oldest Michelin 3-star recipient. His sushi joint is a simple 10-seater bar specialising in sushi and sushi only. From the age of nine, after running away from home from a drunken father, he started as an apprentice in a sushi stall. 

Listening through the interview with the Sushi Masterchef, Sukiyabashi Jiro, one can appreciate the work culture of the Japanese. They take some much pride in whatever they do, and a lifetime seems not enough to master whatever they do. Jiro, even after spending 70 years into making sushi, finds every day a learning experience. He is still perfecting his craft.

His establishment is small, but he is very meticulous in the preparation of sushi. Till the age of 70 when he was afflicted with a heart attack, he used to personally hand-pick tuna fish, octopuses and prawns at the whole sales fish market. He has a long-time rice supplier who would choose only the best grain for his shop. It is not the rice, Jori says. Even big hotels like Grand Hyatt try to get the best rice but fail to make tasty sushi. It is little things that make the difference - the way of cooking the rice, the 45-minutes' massage of the octopus by his trainees, Jori's eye for clientele comfort and tastebuds, and so on. An apprentice has to learn to hold a fish properly before he can cut anything and has to work ten years before he can even make an egg cake. Only then he is a sushi chef, a shokunin.

Jiro, son Yoshikazu(his left), a shokunin and 3 apprentices.

Sorry, he has reservations about female chefs. His establishment

has only openings for a female cashier and female cleaner. 

His eldest son, Yoshikazu, is due to take over the business once Jiro. The question is that Jiro is a workaholic who finds cooking sushi his passion. The sheer joy he finds in the contended smile of satisfied gives him the purpose of living. He only closes for national holidays and funerals. His other son, Takashi, run another sushi shop elsewhere.

Jori's unassuming tiny sushi bar is not cheap. It costs $300 per head and reservations are made one month in advance.

You must dedicate your life to mastering this skill. This is the key to success. 

Being a rebel is not all that bad, being respectful and obedient does not guarantee success. 

                                                                                                                             Jiro Ono

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Your job, your God?

I grew up in an environment where it was ingrained in us that a man can be a man only if he is productive. He has been sent to Earth on a mission and that purpose is to do his age-appropriate duties.

Amma used to remind us to keep a keen eye on the task at hand and not to be swayed by idle banter and purposeless chats. Her favourite Tamil proverb drove home her point - 'A talking dog is no use for hunting'! Appa, being the non-verbal one, asserted his teaching through his actions. In his 42 years' career, he never once called in sick, barring the times our family were stuck in floods when we were stuck in a relative's house when we visited them on a Sunday and the time he was admitted for diabetes.

So, these thoughts came to my mind as I was passing through Singapore airport. If one had been to Singapore, he would not fail to notice the high numbers of members of the geriatric population still engaged in economic activities namely the service industry. In a food court, I could not keep my eyes off a severely kyphotic uniformed lady in her late sixties, probably, with a weak left upper limb dragging herself religiously clearing up the utensils and crumbs left by the patrons. She was working with such dexterity that would put an average adult to shame. When a looked around, I saw that everybody was working individually, focused on the job at hand. Nobody had time for small talks. It was just performance and the aim to have their tasks done. They were not robotic in that sense as they were just as forthcoming with pleasantries to the customer when warranted. The Japanese work ethics that our ex-Prime Minister was coaxing our population to emulate must have spilt over to our neighbours, never actually embraced by Malaysians. The river had flown leaving the source dry.

A one-kilometre channel that separates these two countries seem to demarcate them worlds apart. A one-hour flight later at the luggage collection belt, what do I witness? Three able-bodied adults assigned to supervise the placing of luggage on the belt; one to adjust the placing, another to supervise him and yet another to supervise the other but more engaged in talking grandmother stories!

We always strive higher!

Bread and Roses (2000)
Director: Ken Loach

Staying true to what Nietzsche was saying about masters, slaves and master morality, the economic migrants put their lives at stake to get to be like their masters. They (the migrants) yearn to be like the masters; speaking their language, dressing like them and abandoning their age-old traditions. Whatever the masters did was good and their own self-depreciating. They achieve what they want, but they are still not happy. They have a kind of self-realisation. They realise that their back-breaking endeavours are only to make the masters' life comfortable at the expense of their (slave's) health and life. They rebel, demanding appropriate recognition and remunerations. That is when the boat starts to rock.

The masters do not like all these melodramas. After all, there are many other newcomers ever-ready to fit into the workers' shoes. The master's continuity of comfort and high-brow lifestyle is of supreme importance. Hence starts the mutiny.

This Ken Loach's flick on the social struggle of the little people brings to light the difficulties endured by the immigrant population. They persevere through struggles of illicitly entering the country, leaving their lives at the hands of ruthless smugglers, human traffickers, middlemen, corrupt border men, local agents and the system that is keen to shoo and step them over when the situation warrants.

The people they left behind in their countries look at them as a beacon of hope. Quickly, even before the immigrant gets their footing in their new place of sojourn, the requests for money keep on rolling. Feeling responsible or not to disappoint the people back home, they comply. They engage in many activities, what come may, legal or otherwise, morally right or not, all for the little comfort for themselves and their loved ones back home.

The migrants are in the spring of their youth. There is also a need for them of to fulfil their own obligations, to desire to satisfy their carnal needs and continuity of their progeny.

'Bread and Roses' is a leftist movie that tends to look at the workers' plight, especially the immigrant type. They are the one that the modern city is totally dependable on for its functionality but remain invisible to its inhabitants. They are the discards of society as was described by Goebbel's propaganda films, the vermin of the city. In this offering, immigrants of different ethnicities come together to rebel against their unscrupulous employers for unfair wages and their inhumane treatment in handling of their day to day needs. The janitors of a company stage a protest named 'Justice for Janitors' and their catchphrase is 'We want bread but we want roses too!'. This phrase is a verse from a 1911 poem which was used in a workers' strike by immigrant women back in 1912.

Sure, the employers took them out from the pit of hopelessness in the basket-case countries which the immigrants failed to develop. They gave them dignity, improvement of living standards to them and their loved ones. They gave them a new lease of life to their otherwise web of hopelessness. They would be rotting in hell if not by the so-called 'unscrupulous' employers. Now that they are big and strong and know the dealings of the world, they bite the hands that feed them, so say the employers.

But that is, after all, what human character is all about. It is human nature to always feel discontented. We always strive to attain another notch higher; scale a higher mountain, sail further to a deeper ocean and reach a more challenging frontier. That must be the innate survival skill that we must have acquired from generations before us which helped us to weather all challenges that lay ahead in life.


"Bread and Roses" is a political slogan as well as the name of an associated poem and song. It originated from a speech given by Rose Schneiderman; a line in that speech ("The worker must have bread, but she must have roses, too." inspired the title of the poem Bread and Roses by James Oppenheim. The poem was first published in The American Magazine in December 1911, with the attribution line "'Bread for all, and Roses, too'—a slogan of the women in the West."The poem has been translated into other languages and has been set to music by at least three composers. Wikipedia.

Toe the line?

I have the urge to laze around all day on a Sunday because I know that my services are not needed. I convince myself that I should reward myself by patting myself at the back and tucking myself to sleep. After all, I have been on my feet all week long. Even God who created the Universe rested on the Sabbath.

Fine. I pamper myself on my rest day. My regular activities and clockwork-like demands of duties kind of puts my biorhythms in place. That is, I know I will need to do this and that with the satisfaction that whatever I am doing serves a certain purpose in continuity of life; of my life, my progeny, my lineage, perhaps the next generation and wishfully mankind on the whole.

I shudder to think what will happen when I am given the standing orders or 'privilege' to stop doing all these. No more deadlines to meet and no more compulsions to present myself in person to perform my one thing I am given the pleasure of! What happens next? Am I going to slide down the path of slackers, surely ending to the pleasures of inactivity, procrastination, of sleep and decadence? It will surely take a mighty load of willpower and inner prodding to maintain this level of activity, alertness and suppleness of the joints, age minding!

That is the same rationale in laying down rules and regulations for feeble minded humans to follow. Let loose, the herd-like minded human species would be heading life like headless chickens, crashing into things aimlessly indulging into purposeless activities, going in circles satisfying only their primitive biological needs of gluttony, sleep, sex and procreation and sensual gratifications. 

Just to give a push to a particular direction to evolution of our species, the selected 1% of the upper crust of the society must have laid out the framework of dos and do nots for future generations to follow whilst putting the fear of eternal condemnation into it.

Sure, the restless would question the merits and authenticity of such claims and hence would cry for tangible proof. Devoid of such hard proof, they too, at times of desperation and the tide is high, would bow to submission just like Blaise Pascal (Mathematician, 1623-1662) prophesied that from a mathematical probability standpoint, it makes more sense to be a believer than not. As eternity is a mighty long time. The question is what do we call the Higher Force?

Things you need to do for...

Over the week, encountered three related incidences...

Somebody sent me a newspaper clipping about something that happened in the UK. A high flying executive in her early 30s was devastated to discover that she was 4 months pregnant. This happened in spite of her consumption of the post-coital contraceptive pills. A month after that episode, she had an intrauterine contraceptive device inserted. 2 months later, she was told to be over 2 months pregnant when she presented to her doctor with abdominal pain. Surgical abortion was done only to discover another 2 months later that the surgical procedure failed miserably and she was still pregnant, then at 4months+! As she was not willing to give up her pursuits to greater heights in her career as well as to lose her care-free lifestyle and give up her freedom for just one man, she decided to undergo a second termination all sponsored by the National Health Service.

Somebody complained that this type of news would just be treated as a rare unavoidable clinical dilemma that comes with the job as it happened in a first world country. Conversely, if it were to happen here or another developing country, the medical services there would be sneered upon. They would also accept it at the stride as it was excepted of the medical services in a third world country.

Well over in the third world, the health workers have to deal with other things...

An obstetrician was explaining to his 38-year-old lady and her husband about her blood test results. Earlier, she had undergone screening for Down Syndrome. The good doctor was giving a rundown on its interpretation to the teacher soon-to-be mother and husband. After extensive elaboration, the obviously confused husband interjected, "Now, hold on doctor! Tell me, who is having the possibility of having Down Syndrome? My wife or my child?"
The obstetrician had two minds of telling, "it's probably you!" but against his better judgement, he decided to keep mum!

And at another medical institution...

A lady had finally picked up the courage to go under the knife after suffering for years with her female problems. The working arrangements, leave and domestic help were all sorted out to the tilt. Her gynaecologist with whom she had total confidence was also not going for any conferences or holidays.

The day of reckoning sauntered in. A pleasant doctor walked into her room introducing himself as an anaesthetist who would be minding her needs during surgery.

Poof went the plan for surgery. Having a male doctor see her in not so modest states was abominable. Surgery can wait for another day, another time.

Maid to serve?

Whatever happened to Tamil mantra 'your job is your God'? Postmen clung on their postman bag even when their vehicle plunged into a ravine. Secret service agents stood steadfast in line of fire to protect the symbol of sovereignty of a country even ignoring their own lives. Humanitarians flock to war torn or epidemic hit zone to care for the needy. Servants rather take abuses than invoke the wrath of their employers.

We are talking about a different time zone. Unless you have travelled back in time in a time machine, you would realise that things have changed drastically. 

Perhaps some the examples mentioned above are remnants of the feudalistic era or leftovers from the practice of caste system of division of labour based on familial tool of trades. It can also be a figment of what Pol Pot and his revolutionaries were trying to propagate. The ideology that man were made to serve nature and we do not need technology as Mother Nature has it all for us.
There used to be a time when certain things were considered to be out of bounds when a person is at work. Some things are obvious. Thou shall indulge in any intoxicating beverages whilst at work, unless of course, you are from the upper strata of the work force and entertaining clients and make them lose their inhibitions in order to secure businesses in your favour is one of the scopes of your work.
Generally, you do not like to see a person in uniform puffing away at his post. Nor should he be seen fiddling with his smartphone or seen busy entertaining his caller rather than vigilant on the task he is assigned to.
But then, values change. The honour of being in a job and the pride of carrying his duties to the virtues held by generations before us has lost its lustre. In the present world where everything and anything goes and is possible, there is nothing wrong in turning up at a lecture in beach wear. It only show that he is innovative and is open to ideas. Well, as long as the work gets done.

I'm loving it?

When you are young, you are told to choose the field of study that you like because that is going to be your bread and butter for the rest of your life. You are told to dwell into something that have a passion or aptitude for.

Then you have people who are cocksure on what their calling is in life. They would go at all lengths to achieve the desire. They tell themselves that they were send to Earth for that mission. Even if they were not qualified to pursue their dream, they would try to get in through the back door at all cost. They would oft quote Walt Disney on the powers of dreaming and the power of positive thinking. "I think therefore I am"!

So, does that mean that if you choose some career path that you so desire, you are set to be loving it all through your life come what may. The ups and downs of the profession is no hindrance and all can be taken in all its stride?

I thought people, by nature, are easily bored. Today fashion is tomorrow's junk, what is lovable today is loathed next week, today's match made in heaven is next decade's ugly divorce, today's ally is next confrontation's enemy...

Even businesses reinvent themselves to stay relevant and lure people's interest. Artistes frequently re-brand themselves to be liked. Chameleons to this end include David Bowie and Madonna.

Not every individual has the mental strength to stay true to their cause like Florence Nightingale or Mother Theresa. Even Mother Theresa might have asked herself whether what she was doing was real worth it! Imagine, after weeks of counselling, giving positive outlook on life and averting her from attempt of  suicide after being abused by her husband, Mother Theresa must have felt like pulling her own hair when the victim decided to return to her abusive husband, yet again. Nightingale, with the number of corpses piling up with skeleton staff and limited medical supply, did passion solely keep her going?
As for mere mortals, the candle would eventually burn out, long before it burn itself away....
Most people do the job they do because they have to do something. At least they can do what is expected of them, a full grown man, to bring home the bacon. Maybe, beside the vocation that they are involved in, they are not capable, brave, intelligent or street smart enough to do anything else to bring home their killing!
Maybe the first years of doing something you love will make you go on by your sheer desire and satisfaction. With time, with challenges becoming too few by far, dead ends and frustrations in many forms setting in, you have to find ways to motivate yourself to keep that fire burning inside.

Seeking Post: Fly Swatting Specialist!

I do come across people who complain that the work that they do is much too difficult to do and they need to take rest off work. Over the years I have been desensitized by these moans that I just tell myself, “You think my job is easy?” – talking to sluggards like you!When I was working in Klang, I encountered many plantation workers negotiating with the Medical Officers to squeeze out as many days of medical leave as possible. Initially, I thought that these people were plain lazy. I found later that it was not so straight forward. After working many long weary hours, they were paid ‘peanuts’.  A rainy day means no work and no pay. If they fell ill, they have to take a long bus trip to town – Awake at 4am –preparing house chores to catch the 5.30am bus to reach town to collect a number to see a medical officer who starts work at 8am; they will depart from the hospital close to 12noon. By then, they could not go back to work and they lose a day’s pay. If the worker managed to produce a Government Hospital Medical Leave Certificate, they would be entitled to a full day’s pay which is better than nothing. A tough life but isn’t everybody’s? Even the skiver has to think hard to dodge from work. Ask anybody and everyone will say that his job is tough- the bricklayer – tough; waiter and those in the hospitality service –tough;  the businessmen – tough- because he cannot get a car park when he gets to the bank; those in the medical services –tough because of increasingly litigious society and the list goes on. Even the illicit drug dealers find it tough to carry his work and he has almost ran out ideas to bring his merchandize  in and out of the country as the people have ‘wised up’ that they are made mules by the drug cartel. The African syndicates have used their charm to lure local gals to carry their ‘hot items’. When we were growing up, Amma used to tell us that our ancestors in India were duped by the middlemen  into thinking that work in the land of milk and honey called Malaya was darn easy. They would be paid lots of money and fringe benefits for just swatting flies in Malaya to ensure that the raw sugar that is laid to dry is not eaten by pests. In droves, they raced down to Malaya only to find themselves trapped in rubber estates, mosquitoes, pure manual hard work, ruthless mandors (stewards) and the same white colonial masters that they had in India.