OF SOBA AND SERVICE

Yesterday I had a somewhat pleasant Monday despite my throbbing gum.
First I went to the Post Office to Pos Laju Kri's cd. The lady who came to process my package was seen rushing from one counter to the other. I asked her why are there so many counters with the "TUTUP" sign. She explained that a few of the staff went on leave or on a course. I asked for a jiffy bag - the padded envelope and the Pos Laju sticker. I must have an honest face because the lady asked me to take the envelope and fill in the form first before paying. Fatimah took a risk. I could have ran away with the 75 sen envelope. I did not abscond with the envelope and a few minutes later Fatimah processed the package efficiently, smiling sweetly throughout. I thought that the service level in Malaysia has improved.

One Mat Salleh in the Post Office did not think so. When I arrived, he was holding on tight to his number, waiting for his turn. It did not come and I saw him going out and then coming back in to browse at the Philately Corner. I left him, still waiting.

I went straight to the 3rd Floor and made reservations for 3 at the Ume Tei Rastaurant. Since it was not lunch time yet, I headed for the 2nd hand bookstore at the end of the floor. I asked the girl on duty at the cash register if there were any books on Media Planning. The girl replied that she has never heard of Media Planning so I browsed the shelves. Trying to read titles on the upright books is very hard on my neck. You have to turn your face almost 90 degrees - a process not so healthy for an old man. My head was saved from being on a permanent tilt by a call from Amir. He was already in the parking lot so I left the ignorant girl and her old books and waited for Amir in front of the restaurant. Amir came soon and we went in to order our lunch. I asked for my usual tempura set while Amir chose the soba set. In some restaurants, the set is, well, set. You cannot change anything. In this particular restaurant, I asked that the chawan mushi be replaced by a salad and they did.

Memphis Belle came later just as Amir and I finished our food. We sipped our green tea and watched Belle eat. Later we moved downstairs to have our coffee ( and me , my cigarette). I introduced Hassan, the waiter from Madras whom I blogged about earlier to Belle and Amir.

We left soon after and as I was paying for my parking, I could understand why my friend Razak always used the automated parking. These people who take your ticket and money never smile. I noticed that. One particular lady made an extra effort to look grumpy. No smile, no thank you. Maybe I am expecting too much from these people who are cooped up in the small box under the hot Malaysian sun. They know I have put up with their constipated face if I want to get out of the parking lot.

The next time I will use the automated parking downstairs. At least the machine will thank me when it gets my money.