It was a Saturday. I was ready to pack up
for home when the phone rang.
Silly me, how could I be so assuming?
“Yu Bok, we have to go Pahang to see the
Menteri Besar today. Get ready.” The voice was distinctly Tan Sri’s. He hung up
as soon as he finished what he had to say. You simply did not have a chance to
you to waste his time.
Even though there was still no expressway then, the drive from Kuala Lumpur to Kuantan was a pleasant one,
especially if you were travelling in a big Mercedes. It still had to take a few
hours though.
The sun had already set by the time we
reached Kuantan. We called on the director of land and mines and he was happy
to receive us in his house. A few more meetings followed. By the time we
checked into the Hyatt, it was already close to mid-night.
My wife must have been concerned, as I did
not have a chance to call her before I left the office (There was no mobile
phone then). But I have the most understanding wife. She always takes these
things well. She was already fast asleep when I reached her.
After a quick bath, I headed for the bed
straightaway. There was still some reveling going on in the hotel. Someone told
me earlier that the sultan would be around. I was too tired for anything.
Few hotels are thoughtful enough to provide
toothbrushes and tooth paste those days. The next morning, I had to use my
fingers…
I had nothing clean to change into. I
should be able to pick up something from the arcade but I had to wait as the
shops would only open at around 9 or 10.
I bought a batik shirt and I could not find
any briefs. Too bad. I had to make do with the one I had been wearing.
* * * * *
PLANT GRASS???
“Yu Bok, ask Captain to bring a few 955s
and RBs to the golf course. I want to do something there.”
The golf course at the resort was not very
great then. Enthusiasts had it that the course was not well designed. Some
remodeling work was therefore ordered. Ron Fream, a leading golf course
architect, was commissioned to do the job.
There was an undulating tract behind the
clubhouse. Nobody had any earthwork drawings. But Captain Lim was one of the
few who had the uncanny ability to do exactly what Tan Sri had in mind as far
as earthwork went. And the 955s and RBs just cut and cut…
Tan Sri was like an army commander and I,
his aide-de-camp, had no choice but to stand next to him. But I did not have
the slightest idea of what he had had in mind for this battle front. A few
colleagues who happened to come by asked me what was being built. A new
swimming pool? A new club house?
Honestly I did not know. And none of the
above.
After one week of sun-bathing, I looked
over-tanned. Tan Sri had also run out of steam. Before he walked back to his
car, I heard him telling Captain Lim, “Plant grass.”
Or did I hear wrongly?
* * * * *
955,
977 AND ALAB-BEE
“I want you to buy some second-hand 955s,
977s and alab-bees, you see
so-and-so.”
This was the instruction given to me by Tan
Sri Lim. I was still quite new at Genting. Although I had some project
management experience, it was basically on high-rise buildings. I had never
done land development before. But how could I ask Tan Sri what 955, 977 and alab-bee were? I would be out of my
mind. Or did I want to lose my job?
“977, 977, alab-bee” were exactly the figures and words I wrote in my
notebook. They had had to do with earth-moving equipment, I was convinced.
After the “class” had been dismissed, I
took the company car, a Peugeot 503, and went around the grounds searching for
these beasts.
I was not disappointed; Caterpillar 955 and
977 tractors were busily at work everywhere. And you could not possibly miss
Captain Lim’s alab-bees either - the
always reliable RB[1]
draglines.
* * * * *
When you have a boss like Tan Sri, you
learn to be very resourceful.
Chong Hock came to me one day, “Yu Bok, you
know Chinese. Do you know what The Old Man wants?”
It was Tan Sri’s own handwriting, in
Chinese of course. He wanted us to do some improvement to the “Chiao-se-nou” (脚死奴).
What is Chiao-se-nou?
He had gone round asking; nobody could help.
That was easy. Without hesitation, I
enlightened him, “Casino”.
You have to be a Hokkien to understand another
Hokkien.
Incidentally, I forgot to explain. Tan Sri
was thinking in Hokkien when he wrote the three Chinese characters.
Leg or foot in Chinese character is pronounced “Chiao” in Mandarin but when it is read
in Hokkien, it becomes “Kar”.
The word “Se” written by Tan Sri in the note actually meant “die” or
“dead”.
“Nou”
is “slave”, but I believe Tan Sri got it mixed up with his Malay partner’s name
written in Chinese, i.e., 诺.
Taken together and read in Hokken, they
simply mean CASINO.
I heard this from another acquaintance the
other day. He also had the “privilege” to be in Tan Sri’s Sunday entourage when
he went round inspecting works at the resort.
Tan Sri wanted some work to be done at “C-loah” (C楼). He wrote in clearly on a paper: An alphabet C and a Chinese
character “loah” (building, or storey, or apartment block, depending on
usage). Pronounced in Hokkien, it should
mean “C Block”.
So everybody thought!
But there was no C Block there.
You know where? It was see-lau. In plain
Hokkien: 4th level!
* * * * *
This also came from a colleague: After a visit to one of the work sites, Tan Sri wrote in Chinese character: Liu (劉), Chinese character for a surname, and Swee (水), for water.
Everybody was asking everybody. “Who is
this contractor Lau Swee? Tan Sri is looking for him.”
Tan Sri was furious; the instruction he
gave about a water leakage problem at one of the sites he pointed out had yet
to be rectified after one whole week.
Oh, he was not looking for contractor Mr Lau
Swee (劉水). He
was saying that the place was lau-chwee (漏水), or water
leaking through!
* * * * *
Sunday was not an off-day for some of us in
Genting. It was the day Tan Sri would
go around inspecting all the civil and engineering works that were being
carried out in resort. As always, he started his day early. He would gather the
key executives in the coffeehouse or the theatre restaurant, give a few
instructions here and there and jump into his waiting car. Everybody would
scramble for his vehicle to try to catch up with him. The resort is quite a
sprawling mass of land; but lose him at your own risk!
Wherever he went, you just had to follow;
and make sure you bring a notebook along.
By the time he headed for his suite, your
Sunday was as good as gone.
But Tan Sri is not an inconsiderate man.
You can take a day off every week if you want to, as long as it is not a
Sunday.
* * * * *
Chong Hock, the resident architect, and I
decided to go up by helicopter one Sunday. We wanted to catch the first flight.
But the weather was simply impossible. Segambut, where the helipad was
situated, looked very sunny, but the traffic controllers at the resort advised
us that visibility there was too poor for the helicopter. So we waited.
The resort was staging a big show. It was
one of the first big-money affairs for its very impressive new
theatre-restaurant. The girls were from France
Two of the showgirls were also waiting at
the helipad to go up. Chong Hock and I chatted them up. They were very
friendly. Weathermen at the resort continued to give “no-fly” advice. Before
long, we ended up having lunch with the two girls in one of the nice
restaurants in town.
By the time we finished lunch, it was too
late to head for the hill.
The next day was a Monday. Tan Sri was
early as usual. The phone soon rang. The secretary said, “Yu Bok, Tan Sri wants
to see you. Where is Chong Hock?”
I never missed my Sunday outing with Tan
Sri again, no matter how bad the weather.
[1] A very popular
dragline of the day: manufactured by Royston Butyrus of United Kingdom
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