Hi! I'm Malaysian...

Today is the exact reason I told my mom why I don't bother or go out to make an effort of befriending any Malaysians here in Japan.

Yesterday I started my part-time job from hell. A waitress at a Chinese restaurant affiliated with a hotel...aka a reputable slave. A senior showed me how the place works and she explained it to me politely and patiently and the manager was quite understanding that I don't speak Japanese that well. The cooks however are quite bitchy. One minute they're nice, another minute they might snap at you. And they say women are hard to understand. (all the cooks are men)

Today, my senior didn't have a shift so another "senior" took over. The senior was a fellow Malaysian. He shall be named The B. (you should know what B stands for. definitely not BAGUS or anything that sounds nice) NORMALLY, in a far away place where you know not of anyone from your homeland, you tend to HELP the ones that are from where you come from. At least thats what I see in my school. Koreans help their people, Taiwanese, Thais etc. but not Malaysia truly Asia. I swear my manager was more excited to see another Malaysian than he was. Not like I was excited, I couldn't give 2 shits about him. First of all, he KNEW I was coming in for work today and he didn't even bother introducing himself or where he was from. Then he was like "Oh, you can speak to me in Cantonese, English (which I doubt he can speak) or anything if you don't understand. Easier for "commu-ni-kaaaay-shon." At first I was like whoa, he speaks really good Japanese. But I sure as hell ain't telling him that since he's such an ass. THEN, after a few minutes he wavecalls me....I repeat, WAVE CALL, since I'm pretty sure my parents forgot to give me a name when I was born, and calls me into the kitchen. He throws a basket full of small cups and says "Arrange this neatly" in Japanese. No please. So WTF happened to "communi-kaaaay-shon" The B? I know for a fact there is NO reason to stack them up neatly cus the cooks are just gonna mess it up when taking it out in a hurry. So practically the whole evening he was bossing me around like making me take plates in cus he's too good to be carrying a tray with dirty plates or cleaning up a table. He cleans halfway, he sees me, then he stops whatever he's doing and points to me to finish it up. I cursed him almost every minute I'm suprised he didn't drop dead or hit something and fall down.

Next would be the cook I want to dump in Tokyo bay, or in this case Kyoto bay along with The B. Wrapping them up with their beloved dumplings in a sack and tying it down with all the pots and pans from the restaurant and dumping them down the bay would be the top of my wishlist. This fucker of a cook is probably from Taiwan or China, since he speaks a different dialect of Chinese so I'm not sure. He could be another fuckass from Malaysia, I'm not suprised. Since he and The B can speak decent Japanese considering they're foreigners, they think they're too good to be grouped as a "foreigner" and act all high and mighty. Hello dear fuckers, fyi I work the at the same kitchen as you, I get the same pay as you, I breathe the same foul smell in the kitchen as you. So wtf are you so proud of? At least I'm doing this as a part-time job while you are stuck in that hell hole for probably the rest of your life. Pray do tell which part of that are you so proud of. I wish you all the best you will get deported. May your mighty Japanese skills save your sorry ass. The cook kept making fun of my Japanese and The B was joining in. Now you know why I hate them.

This started when I was on my way out of the kitchen when the food delivery bell rang. The fucker cook shoved 2 plates of fried rice into my hands and said this is for 3 persons and the other for 4 persons. Who the FUCK would know straight away what the fuck that is. Then he repeated like I was an idiot "this-is-for THREEEEE people, that is for FOOOOOUR" and started telling the other cooks how I don't even understand what is 3 or 4 people. Fineeee, that I can do with, THEN when I asked another senior, she asked the cook whether its for the customers and he started shouting that it was for the reserved table blablabla. Yeahuh....3 person, 4 person = reserved table. Wow wee. Later he asks whether I eat "fried chicken" (because they pack extras for the staff to bring home). Question of the year! So I said in Japanese "Ii desu" which means ok. At least thats what I learnt in basic Japanese. The fucker says out loud, "What kind of an answer is that?" Then The B chips in "Its either you answer 'Iranai' (don't need) or 'Iru' (need). Who the fuck answers like that. Its not the problem about the language, I'm sure all languages don't reply with a "don't need" when you refuse something. Fuckers.

Later I heard The B talking with the cooks. Probably fucker cook asked him whether I'm from the same country as him and oh wow! you speak so much better than her. The B answers "Because I'm a genius". I was holding a broom at that time and you have no idea how I wanted to shove it up his ass. Then slice the cook with his kitchen knife.

All in all today was a bitch. I now have no plans to befriend any Malaysians I find in Japan or have any relations to them whatsoever. Well, so far all I've met are MALES so I'll see how it goes if I ever meet a female. The first Malaysian I met in Malaysia could speak decent Japanese and he was in Advance course when I was in Beginners. He never offered to help around knowing I couldn't speak Japanese at all and he preferred to hang out with Japanese or other nationalities. None of my encounters with Malaysians in Japan has turned out pleasant, thus my new resolution.

So I hope the fucking cook and The B will have a good and long life in hell they call a kitchen. I honestly rather them get deported though. At least then they will feel the reality that in the end of the day, they're still a fucking foreigner.

A future career as a...

...police sketch artist. Here is proof:Ok, before I start this post let me be clear of a few things.
1. This is a sketch of a classmate in Semester 5, Pokelai.
2. Dear Pokelai, if you're reading this please do not think too much of having your sketch in my blog. It's just that when I saw this I thought of something to blog.
3. No, I'm not saying you're a criminal.
4. I'm sorry if you're offended if it looks nothing like you. I could tell you weren't that pleased when you saw the sketch 2 years ago.

With that cleared up, let me start explaining. I've always wondered how the police actually choose their sketch artists. Well, I have to admit most of my observation are from TV series or movies so whether or not those sketches are as "accurate" compared to real life sketch artists, I am not sure. But considering that the entertainment production business has a much bigger budget to hire a real or better sketch artist than the police force, my opinion still stands at their sketches being almost unidentifiable or hardly recognisable. Well, considering their only source of information is from a sketchy description from witnesses, I guess its forgivable.

My point is, I was looking at this picture and somehow I realised how much it resembles a police sketch. You know it's a potrait, you know there's a person out there who looks like that, but you just don't know who the fuck it is.

p/s: Police sketch artists get a big fat check for their job.