Chapter 12

Tutu Tan
59 Pers. Burhanudin Helmy
TTDI 6000 Kuala Lumpur
Tel: +6012-5855005
Email: tutu.tan@gmail.com

November 30, 2006

Mr. Jason HL Yeoh
Partner, Corporate and Commercial Department
Shearn Delamore and Co.
Wisma Hamzah-Kwong Hing
No.1, Leboh Ampang
50100 Kuala Lumpur

Dear Mr. Yeoh,

Notice of Resignation

I would like to inform you that I am resigning from my position as Legal Assistant for the Shearn Delamore and Co., Corporate and Commercial Department, effective December 29, 2006.

Thank you for the opportunities you have provided me during my time with the company. I appreciate the support provided me during my tenure with the company.

If I can be of any help during this transition, please let me know.

Sincerely,

Tutu Tan

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Outside, the rain pours down relentlessly, giving the landscape a fuzzy quality. But despite the unforgiving weather, cars packed with Christmas shoppers continue to crawl bumper to bumper into the car park across the street, ignoring the blinking lights saying “Car Park Full”. Red taillights glow alternately thru the shower.

Indoors, it’s anything but gloomy. Christmas carol tinkles in the background; decorative baubles in red and silver hangs from trees and garlands; fake snow fogs the glass; baristas dressed up like Santa’s elves cheerily greets each customers stepping into Starbucks; the espresso machine sputters and hissed in rhythm to the carols, delivering steamy hot cups of lattes and foamy cappuccinos. At a nearby table, a girl is arguing with her boyfriend because he got her a tall Frappucino with whipped cream. She wanted a grande, light, without the cream but with lots of caramel sauce. Further down at the corner, a toddler is feeding his juice to the potted plant as his Indonesian maid looks on, while the parent sips their coffee and read their individual magazines.

On top of the buzz, a persistent voice is speaking – no, lecturing is more like it – and I am unfortunately at the receiving end.

“I can’t believe you’re going to walk out just like that. We all know it wasn’t your fault, we all saw you working your ass off preparing for the project. What happened was just a last minute cock-up and had nothing to do with your performance. You don’t have to stand out and take all the responsibility, you know? Blunders during presentations are really common, and it’s not like you’ve not done your homework or gambled away millions of the client’s money – damn it – why are you making this so difficult? Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Tu?”

I wrap my hands around my lukewarm Toffee Nut latte and look across the table at Ean, his expression all earnest and serious as he tries to convince me to withdraw my resignation from SD&Co. I don’t understand why he is so worked up. In fact he has been this way since he found out about my plan, and that was two weeks ago. Since the disastrous presentation, Ean’s taken over the project, and from what I heard, doing a good job of it, and will be wrapping it up before Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong; I am not jealous or mad at Ean in any way for taking over my project (my first – and last – solo project). Just the opposite, I have come to accept it, and even able to move on from there, which is why I can be so calm. My mind is set, I have made my decision, and I’m not taking back my resignation.

Oh, I’m sorry; I guess I should at least tell you (just briefly) about what happened during the presentation, and the enlightening process which followed. Well, here it is:

On that fateful morning, I arrived early at work, checked through my documentations, backed up the files in my laptop and did a dry run with Julianne and Ean. They were generally happy and gave some tips on how to handle some difficult questions. For the rest of the morning, I sat at my desk doing some paper work, and feeling confident and excited. I should have realized that things were going a little too smoothly.

Julianne, Ean and I left for early lunch, and then made our way over to Mr. Benedict’s office on Jln Ampang. Things started going wrong the moment we stepped into the Zen-styled office. First, Julianne spilled her take away coffee on waiting area’s very plush and very white sofa. The receptionist screamed for the cleaning lady as we scrambled out of our seats and stood awkwardly aside while the poor lady ran in with two pails, a mop and five towels. None of us dared to ask why someone would choose to use white sofa in a high traffic waiting area. Ten minutes later, we were still standing at the reception when Mr. Benedict’s secretary came to inform us that the meeting will be delayed as Mr. Benedict was still at lunch and will not be back for another hour. However, we will need to complete the presentation within forty minutes because by then Mr. Benedict will have to leave for his doctor’s appointment. Mr. Benedict is a very busy man, indeed.

Ean was about to argue, for we were previously given an hour and a half for the presentation, but Julianne stopped him and told the secretary that forty minutes was not a problem. It was better to be able to do a shorter presentation than not at all. The secretary showed us into the meeting room and left. I remember noticing that she looked very good in her white pant suit.

Inside the room, Ean started setting up the laptop for presentation while Julianne and I went through the notes, finding ways to make the presentation shorter. We were quite wrapped up in our discussion and didn’t notice any problem until Ean started cursing. Somehow our laptop could not detect their projector, hence could not be connected. Which meant no projection. Which meant no presentation.

I was really panicking by then. Everything I have prepared, all the statistics and proposals and information were in the PowerPoint document in the laptop. My notes were only for back up. I have to show the presentation!

“Let’s try and see if we can borrow a laptop from them.” Julianne suggested, and Ean agreed, so he went around asking. Almost half an hour later, he came back with a triumph smile and a very sleek piece of machine under his arm. When we managed to hook it up with the projector and my carefully prepared PowerPoint blinks onto the screen, we all whooped with relieve. Moments later, Mr. Benedict walked into the room, shook everyone’s hand, sat down, and the presentation began.

The first five minutes went on well enough, if you discount the fact that Mr. Benedict was a bear of a man, dressed from top to toe in full white, who is incapable of showing any sort of expression on his face. Maybe that’s why he is a successful business man; you never know what he is thinking. At the least we are beginning to understand why the rest of the office looks more pristine and clinical than a hospital; he is into white, and nothing else. Interesting.

Ten minutes into the presentation, things started happening. Bad things. Without warning, the state-of-the-art on loan laptop flickered, and then died. Yup, it went dead, just like that, and wouldn’t restart, no matter which button we pressed to resuscitate it. Shit! (Later, I found out that their people called our people to inform us that the pen drive I used to transfer files from my laptop to theirs contained some un-namable virus which were so powerful it totally wiped out the entire system. And that we owe them a new laptop. Till today, no one understands from where the virus came from, for no other computers within our company, nor my own laptop, had been affected.)

And then, as if nothing catastrophic has just happened, Mr. Benedict turned to me, and asked in that loud booming voice of his which I will remember probably for the rest of my life, “Why are the presentation text in red and black? I do not deal with people who cannot find it in themselves to respect others’ special preferences. You may leave now.”

What – What?

My mind went totally blank then. Thinking back, Mr. Benedict was not so intimidating, actually. I could have just laughed him off and went on with my presentation using the notes which I have already prepared. I could even have switched on my own laptop and run the presentation from there, projection be damned, at least he could still see what we have prepared and listen to what we have to say. I could have, I could have – yes are probably thousands of I-could-haves, yet at that point of time, all I could think of was that I have failed, and that the sanitized “Zen” place totally sucked.

I flipped. Yes, I admit that. Maybe I could have tried harder to hold myself together. But all I felt then was being totally drained. Maybe it was the accumulated stress throughout the weeks leading up to the presentation, or maybe it was the hiccups we faced since the moment we entered Benedict’s office which multiplied the pressure level to an unbearable state, and everything starts to fall apart, inside and out.

Maybe, I was just not strong enough.

You all know what happened after that. I went straight home and locked out the rest of the world until Kaelyn came and rescue me from myself. What followed was some serious soul searching, as cliché as that may sound, to identify where I came from, where I want to go, and where exactly I ended up heading towards.

The results? Lets just say that if I have initially set out towards Destination A, after two years of traveling along the highway, I’m actually closer to Destination T, more than half way towards Destination Z, which is absolutely not where I want to be. So I am pulling over, catch my breath a bit, and maybe take out my compass and try to locate my direction again.

Thank goodness Kaelyn’s been very encouraging.

“This is exactly what the stars predicted! In this new year, you will be going on a journey of self discovery, and even though it may seem a bit unwise at this point of time, you will in fact discover much more than you expect to find. Retreating has nothing to do with cowardness, but because you have found the strength to reach for your dreams.”

Does that tell you anything at all?

Chapter 11

“Sigh – I think I’m in love.”

I look over at Kaelyn, who is lying on my bed, a very dreamy look on her face as she rests her head on one hand and nibbles the nail of a finger, a super typical “I-think-I-am-in-love” symptom – for Kaelyn, anyway.

“He says he likes how I sound on the phone. He’s been calling more often, even if just for a few minutes. He says hearing my voice really makes his day. Isn’t that sweet of him?”

Sweet? Lame is more like it. But I keep my mouth shut. This is not the time to wake Lyn up from her dream (or nightmare, depending on how you want to look at it).

She continues talking, not needing a reply from me, another typical “in-love” symptom. “Did I tell you he bought out all the flowers from the hotel gift shop that first day we met, at Redang Island?”

How could I forget? I was there! And I also recall that the hotel gift shop only had one small bucket of sorry looking pink roses, left over from who knows when.

Of course, again, no reply needed. The In-Love girl carries on. “He’s been so busy with work lately – he works so hard! Yet he tries to make time to see me, take me to dinner, and listens as I tell him about my day – he really listens to me! Oh, he’s just so – sigh – what’s that word? I dunno, I don’t want to think that he’s too good to be true, because he isn’t! He’s real, and sincere, but it’s just so, overwhelming, for now. Amazingly beautiful, yet overwhelming at the same time – sigh…”

Sigh, indeed. I wonder how long I have to put up with this. Ok, before you start calling me the heartless friend, or worse still, the jealous b*tch, let me explain the story to you. This “He” that Lyn is talking about, is none other than the world class playboy, Marcus Wang, Assistant Manager of the Finance Department at SD & Co. Why world class, you might ask. Easy. His ex-girlfriends ranged from Japanese to French to Arabian to Thai to English to Dutch to Australian to Indian… and the list goes on, not too different from the one they have at the Miss Universe Pageant, really. And Lyn, she’s just another contestant, another name on the list. So now you can understand why I am not quite enthusiastic about my best friend’s joy. In fact, if I am not in such a rush to complete my presentation for Monday’s meeting, I’ll throw myself at Lyn’s feet, explain to her for the ten thousandth’s time why she shouldn’t get involve with Marcus. But for now, I can only hope that one percent of the last nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine times of pleading went through to her love-lust clouded mind, somehow.

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Meanwhile, I have been working like a mad woman on this project – yes! The solo project, as Ean likes to put it – and frankly, I am happy to say that it’s been breezing smoothly so far, which really boosts my confidence. The only worrying part, if you consider it a worry, is that I’ve not met with the client, ever before, and we usually do, at least once, to go through the finer details of a proposal. But Senior Legal Assistant Julianne has assured me that it will not be problem at all.

“Furthermore,” she added, “despite Mr. Benedict being one of our company’s biggest client, It’s a very simple and straightforward proposal, Tutu, nothing that you’ve not handled before. I’m quite sure you’ll do fine with the information provided, and I’m really looking forward to your presentation on Monday. All of us are.”

Such high faith in me, especially coming from Julianne, is really quite a surprise. Does it mean I am finally getting somewhere?

Later on the same day, Ean also dropped by my desk and did a quick scan through the report I was still in progress of putting together. “Gosh Tu, you’re going to make the rest of us look bad! Do you have to do so much work?”

And before he left, he gave my shoulder a warm squeeze. “By the way, Lyn and Marcus seem to be going strong. Maybe we can double date some time?”

I gave him a shrug, not taking my eyes off the papers I was busy reading, and said, “Maybe.” Yup! I played it cool this time. Not bad huh? But we’ve yet to set a date, not that I’m encouraging Lyn and Marcus, of course.

And so, it’s early Saturday evening, and I am making final changes to the presentation, checking and cross checking to make sure I’ve got everything right. I am determine to complete everything by tonight, and spend tomorrow relaxing and preparing myself emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically for the big day.

And Lyn is supposed to lend me moral support and assist me in achieving my objective, but the woman is still lying on my bed, day dreaming, no doubt.

“Hey,” I say to her, “aren’t you suppose to be making me dinner? I seem to recall the mention of some pasta and fresh salad on the menu. Are you expecting my microwave and the fridge to accomplish that all by themselves?”

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I am in deep shit.

I totally and absolutely screwed up.

The presentation was a mess; I don’t even know where to start explaining the problem. In fact, I don’t even understand how there could ever have been a problem to begin with. I checked and double checked everything! I even run through the presentation three times, on three different laptops, and backed it up twice on CD and on my pen drive, just to make sure there will be no blunder during the presentation. Yet –

Oh-my-god, what’s going to happen? How will I face Julianne and Jason and Ean and the rest of the office? Everyone must already know of the disaster. They are probably talking about me right now, laughing at me for being cocky and over confident when I left the office for the presentation this afternoon. I was looking so smart too, in a grey shirtdress with matching belt cinched across the waist, my favorite black leather tote and a pair of spiky black heels.

Now the dress is a crumpled heap, the heels long discarded, and the bag flung under the table, away from sight, because the mere glimpse of my files and folders reminds me of my failure and throws me into break-down mode.

I can’t think – all I do is sit on the floor against my bed and stare at the wall. I can’t breath – my lungs are pumping out air even as I try to draw more in, and I end up panting, like I’ve ran up four flights of stairs. I can’t feel myself – there is a numb sensation going through my body; I know my arm is resting right beside my body, yet I can’t really feel it anymore. In the silence of the room, my heart seems to be beating extremely loud, all I hear is “thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…” amplified through the space, or maybe it’s all just in my head?

A banging sound brings me out of the reverie long enough to realize that I’ve been sitting in total darkness, for how long I don’t know, and there’s someone outside calling my name. I am in no mood to see anyone; I’m just going to stay still and quiet in here, and whoever that is will go away.

“Tutu Tan! I know you are in there! Just stop swimming in your self pity for two seconds and let me in!”

It’s Kaelyn. How did she know about -? Marcus, of course. Oh gawd! That means even the other departments have heard about my fiasco! Shit! I might as well just kill my self now.

Knock-knock-knock.

She’s at my bedroom window now. It’s a good thing the curtains are drawn.

“Tutu! We both know you’ll never commit suicide because you want to die beautifully, and you probably look like shit at the moment, so just open the door and let me in!”

Ha! That’s my best friend for you; she knows me too well.

“Tutu! Do you want me to call the boys and break down the door? ‘Cos they’re just outside, waiting in the car.”

That does it. There’s no way I can afford to buy Mr. Sachiiya a new door; after today, I’m not even sure if I still have a job. And I gather by “the boys” she meant Marcus and Ean, and they definitely, absolutely, seriously, totally can-NOT see me in the state that I am at the moment.

I push myself off the floor and walk slowly to the door. Kaelyn stands patiently on the other side, wearing a very pretty flowy top over a pair of funky shorts. She holds out a box of Tarot cards.

“Wanna play Tarots? Or would you rather find out what the stars have in store for you?”

She’s teasing me, trying to make me laugh, and it almost work. But at the familiar sight of my best friend, something inside snaps, and it really really hurts.

I try to give her a smile for her effort, but the tears turn out to be quicker.