Thank you for keeping the events at a minimum since the crazy sleepless two weeks that was the State Legislative Assembly (DUN) sitting. I’m glad you realised that the YBs are probably as tired of the endless days and nights of writing and delivering speeches and debates, as we of the press are of listening and cobbling it into something of consumable quality for our readers.

The early days and late nights of the office was part and parcel of our job description and nothing we can complain about in earnest.

So it’s somewhat startling to come to work and realise you actually get to go home that day while there is still daylight. Or realise that you can actually sleep in a little longer or do morning chores that are usually impossible before heading off to your sole function in the afternoon.

It’s nice to be able to chat and go out for drinks with colleagues, or go eat a nice lunch without having to shove everything down your throat quickly and risk indigestion. It’s also nice to finally have time to sort out my claims, or cart the pile of old newspapers out, or whittle the crap I haven’t gotten around to moving off my desk.

In the few occasions when I had to stay back to finish something, it’s also nice to be treated to this view from my office window:

I appreciate little moments that result from things like this, like my colleague agreeing that this view should be documented and opening the window for me while I haul out the camera.

I don’t expect it to last. Eventually everyone will come back from their holidays and people will be organising things again.

But in the meantime, there’s nothing wrong in living for the moment.

Full of love,
Me.

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Note to event organisers

That forwarded email (those things with huge blocks of past recipients and a lot of “Fwd:” in front of an eye-catching subject) that you’re about to send me because you’re concerned about the well-being of me and mine? I can usually prove it’s a hoax after spending 30 seconds on Google.

Furthermore, I take great pleasure in hitting Reply, pasting the URLs and sending it back to you… and considerately BCCing it to all your friends and the friends the last 6 idiot email users passed along when they hit Forward. You do spammers a great deal of service, by the way.

I’ve gotten a few “thank yous” for that, a few “who r u? and almost always a few bounced emails. Mostly, I get nothing… which is great because they (a) are the silent minority; (b) didn’t read your original email anyway; (c) are feeling chastened and probably mortified because they already forwarded it too all their friends; or (d) have forwarded it to all their friends and feel justified because the least they can do is spend 3 seconds showing someone else that they care enough to spread the rumour and waste 30 seconds of their precious time.

A few of you chronic forwarders have earned a place in my “killfile”. It is a simple trick where you create a filter in your email for people who keep forwarding you crap. When something from you arrives, it goes directly into a separate folder (or straight into the Trash, if you prefer) that I look at and empty every now and then, like what I do with the Spam folder.

30 seconds, folks. Try it sometime. The Internet is a big place and the forwarded emails tend to be so old, something’s bound to turn up. You can probably save yourself some embarrassment from your kneejerk hysteria on the Forward button.

No love,
Me.

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Note to all email users

Please refrain from calling my household after 10:30pm. This is because people who still actually use the house phone are long asleep by then and waking them up (in the event that their hantu malam children are otherwise not available to pick up), is deemed rather impolite.

There are these things called mobile phones and text messages, where you can unobtrusively inquire if it’s too late to call the house. If it’s not a matter of life and death, it can wait till morning. The only occasion where calling the house at that hour of the night is considered acceptable is when somebody close to the family died.

Which is why when the phone rings at 10:45pm and I happen to pick up the same time my dad (woken from his sleep) opened his bedroom door, the look on his face asked, “Who died?” Since nobody did in this case, just consider yourself lucky that I don’t know where you live.

No love,
Me.

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Note to Night Callers

Please stop forwarding my work email to various organisations for the sole purpose of letting them spam me with their promotions and workshops. While I won’t object quite as violently with organisations based in Kuching, information about events, food promotions and workshops taking place in Kuala Lumpur are of little use to me. My organisation isn’t going to send me there to enjoy their hospitality.

No love,
Me.

Dear Organisations/Companies/Restaurants/etc. outside Sarawak,

I will request politely that you unsubscribe me from your mailing list if I do not want to receive future notifications. I understand that it is probably not your fault my address fell into your hands without you realising that I’ve not ventured across the South China Sea in the last four odd years. If I should visit lovely KL in the near future, it’s quite unlikely that I was attracted by your new menu or your very expensive workshop on how to plait bread.

If I should continue receiving notifications from you, I will take this as a lack of attentiveness to your service. This will no doubt reflect upon the service I expect to receive if I happen to deal your establishment in the future.

With utmost respect,
Me.

Dear readers of PostMag,

Please stop sending me Friendster/Multiply/networking site invites. My email in the paper is for you to send feedback on issues relevant to what gets published under my name.

Comment on movies I reviewed? – Fine.

Got a book you think I really should read? – Oh, good… you actually read. Always delighted to hear from fellow bibliophiles.

Oh you lie! That restaurant sucked and I must dress you down for misleading us! – They knew I was there and why I was there. Put it together.

Forwarding me junk mail? – Puhleese. I’ve been online long enough to have seen them all and mock you for falling for it. If you catch me on a bad day, I’ll mock you in front of all your contacts.

Sincerely,
Me.

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Note to business contacts

I don't speak for all reporters but every now and then, I like to attend events out of personal interest. I don't appreciate being cornered and asked to "write something" about it on the basis that that (a) I was there, and (b) I'm a writer. It's a very quick way of ensuring that I'll never come back. Having to stay away from something I'd otherwise enjoy because of who I am and what I do pisses me off.

I also don't like how my kneejerk reaction to those grey-area invite-to-events these days is to suspect that at some point you will ask me to "write something".

Also, "is this going to be in the papers tomorow haha" got old a long time ago.

/Me 

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Note to the General Public