All of us must be quite tired of Trump, Trump, Trump by now, maybe it is time for me to write about something else.
A couple of weeks ago, I was catching up with two good friends Yeow Teck Chai and Tan Koon San over dim-sum in a restaurant at Mutiara Damansara. Teck Chai is probably my age and Koon San, several years our senior. Both were career government servants. Teck Chai rose to become the deputy director general of the Malaysian Industrial Development Authority (MIDA) and Koon San, retired as Malaysia’s ambassador to one of the European countries and an international agency. I did a stint in MIDA too but was too restless and ended up as a rolling stone in the business/corporate world.
We exchanged tales and joked about the idiosyncrasies of some of the movers and shakers whom we had personal knowledge of, and I was happy to share my experiences with some of my former bosses. I told them I had penned a book which I named “On the Emperor’s Shoulder” but never got it published because it was deemed unpublishable by my boss, aka my wife.
Why the title? I told them my late father was a staunch follower of spiritual Daoism. Beginning of each lunar year, he would equip himself with the latest copy of 通书 (tōngshū, Chinese almanac) and familiarize himself with all the nitty-gritty of Chinese cultural beliefs and practices for the incoming year. He would be consulted often by the folks in the village when they needed to choose an auspicious day to perform a ceremony. Father said according to the almanac, my birth fell under those who were “born” on the emperor’s shoulder category. It meant that I should never hope to become a big boss! However, I should be reasonably comfortable in life. That must has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, I suppose, because my career and life have panned out that way indeed.
I took the liberty to forward a couple of chapters in the book about the late Tan Sri Lim to Koon San and Teck Chai. Koon San’s feedback is that I should consider having it published in some form. I am still hesitating, maybe I should share it with readers to gauge your response.
Chapter 7 – GENTING SEMPAH
But few know how the name Genting came into being. In Chinese it reads “Ying Ding” (云顶) Ying by itself means “cloud” and Ding means “top” as in rooftop. It certainly sounds appropriate – with the resort sitting right at the top of Gunung Ulu Kali and clouds hugging it. So, Genting is Cloud-top to those reading the name in Chinese characters.
But I believe the name was derived from Genting Sempah. If you look at the Pahang map, you will find Genting Sempah right at the foothill of Genting Highlands. This name was in existence well before Tan Sri Lim went to develop Genting Highlands. I may be wrong, though.
But the pioneers of Genting should be saluted for choosing a very tasteful name for the resort. Whether in Romanised form or in Chinese, they sound good. They could have settled for Silver-top or Money-top for Ying in Chinese can also mean “silver” (银, yin) or “money”. Fortune is the obsession of many but only those with wisdom know the value of subtlety.
* * * * *
Chapter 8 – WHAT, THE OLD MAN WANTS TO CHANGE THE PROVINCIAL BOUNDARY?
I had this dream. I dreamt I worked for a company called Above-the-Clouds Berhad in a country called Bumiland…
The company was founded by a great entrepreneur Tan Sri Lin. Above-the-Clouds owned a hill resort that went by the same name.
* * * * *
“What, the Old Man wants to change the provincial boundary?”
This was CH’s reaction when I told him that Tan Sri Lin wanted us to realign the boundary of some of the lots in the Above-the-Clouds resort to make them more efficient in terms of land utilization. CH was the house architect and I, the development manager of the company that was developing the Above-the-Clouds resort, the most popular holiday destination in the country.
Tan Sri Lin originally had some 15,000 acres of land straddling two provinces in Bumiland – Gnahap and Langoser - alienated to him. He had to favour some friends and associates, but the bulk, about 12,000 acres, still remained with Above-the-Clouds and its related companies, of which about 80% was in Gnahap, and the rest in Langoser.
In some parts of the country, watersheds determine provincial boundaries. This was apparently true in the case of the Above-the-Clouds resort where it sat smack on the Central Range of Bumiland. Looking in the northerly direction, you have Langoser if the rainwater flows westwards; otherwise, it is part of Gnahap.
The flagship hotel actually sat on two provinces. But both the provincial governments were very accommodating; they even formed a joint committee to administer the Above-the-Clouds resort.
With the type of building byelaws we had in Bumiland, any building you want to put up has to be done hundreds of feet away from provincial boundaries, That meant in the case of the Above-the-Clouds resort, you could only build in the ravines in most of the stretches.
Tan Sri Lin knew every square inch of the Above-the-Clouds resort. He had a vision wherein he wanted to transform the resort into a few thriving townships, one of which would of course be named after him.
The ridges had to be flattened!
* * * * *
The telephone rang. It was from the old man. We trooped into the meeting room equipped with many copies of the contour map of the resort. The born surveyor in Tan Sri Lin reached out for his favourite pencil – a red-one-end-and-blue-one-end hexagonal or octagonal rarity – and began to draw a new provincial boundary…
The result looked very fair – a little here to benefit Langoser and a little there to please Gnahap, all very equitably apportioned, neither Gnahap nor Langoser seemed shortchanged.
But he did not realize that he was drawing a new provincial boundary…
You have to take Tan Sri Lin seriously. When he was drawing those lines, you could feel the intensity of his chi. This concentrated energy could melt all the reservations. You actually believed it could be done!
* * * * *
Tan Sri Lin did not wait for the drawings. The in-house draftsman took too long a time to do even a simple thing like this.
A day or so later, Captain Lin[1]’s army of earthmovers and dump trucks began to storm the border. The commander: Tan Sri Lin himself.
My dream did not last long enough. Or maybe I could not remember the ending. I am not sure if the provincial boundary had in fact been violated. But come to think of it, after the ridges had been flattened, how could you tell where the watersheds were? There was no GPS those days.
Not everybody has the opportunity to contemplate changing provincial boundaries. You have to be someone in Tan Sri Lin’s class to do that.
He is indeed an extraordinary man. He makes the impossible happen. Even if you were afforded Tan Sri Lin’s opportunity, would you be able to do what Tan Sri Lin had done?
* * * * *
Chapter 9 – IS HERE LIFE BEYOND THE OFFICE?
It was 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 the Old Man’s. (No derogation intended; it was a just a way of showing respect when we amongst colleagues referred to our ultimate boss those days.) 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.
The drive to Kuantan was a pleasant one, especially if you were travelling on 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. Saw Hwa 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 were 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.
* * * * *
Sunday was not an off day for some of us in Genting. It was the day Tan Sri Lim would go around inspecting all the civil and engineering works that were being carried out in the resort. As always, he started his day early. He would gather the key construction 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 goes, you just have 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 Lim 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.
* * * * *
CH, 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, all very pretty.
Two of the showgirls were also waiting at the helipad to go up. CH 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 Monday. Tan Sri Lim was early as usual. The phone soon rang. The secretary said, “Yu Bok, Old Man wants to see you. Where is CH?”
I never missed my Sunday outing with Tan Sri Lim again, no matter how bad the weather was.
* * * * *
“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 Lim had in mind as far as earthwork went. And the 955s and RBs just cut and cut…
Tan Sri Lim 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 sunbathing, I looked over-tanned. Tan Sri Lim 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 him wrongly?
* * * * *
Chapter 10 – 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 Lim 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[2] draglines.
* * * * *
When you have a boss like Tan Sri Lim, you learn to be very resourceful.
CH came to me one day, “Yu Bok, you know Chinese. Do you know what the Old Man wants?”
It was Tan Sri Lim’s own handwriting, in Chinese of course. He wanted us to do some improvement to the 脚死诺 (Chiao-sei-nor”)
What is Chiao-se-nor? He had gone around 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 Lim was thinking in Hokkien when he wrote the three Chinese characters.
Leg in Chinese character is pronounced “Chiao” in Mandarin but when it is read in Hokkien, it becomes “Kar”.
The word “死” (se in pinyin) written by Tan Sri Lim in the note is pronounced “xi” in Hokkien, which meant “die” or “dead”.
“Nor” (as Nor in Mohamad Nor) is more abstract, it formed part of Tan Sri’s Malay partner’s name, written in Chinese.
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 Lim’s Sunday entourage when he went round inspecting works at the resort.
Tan Sri Lim wanted some work to be done at “C-loah”. He wrote it clearly on a paper: An alphabet C and a Chinese character “loah” (楼 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: the fourth level!
* * * * *
This also came from a colleague: After a visit to one of the work sites, Tan Sri Lim wrote in Chinese character: Liu (刘), Chinese character for a surname, and 水 (shuǐ, water). In Hokkien, 刘水 is pronounced lau chwee.
Everybody was asking everybody. “Who is this contractor Lau Chwee? Tan Sri Lim is looking for him.”
Tan Sri Lim 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 Chwee. He was saying that the place was 漏水 (lau-chwee), or water leaking through!
* * * * *
Chapter 11 – Oops, maybe?
All our architects, engineers and surveyors were a very qualified lot, but each time a plan is submitted to the Old Man, I noticed that he would for sure show some disapproval; few drawings survived without the need for amendments. This tendency of his did cause anxieties and uncertainties. I also observed that he did not bother to refer to the plans when he himself directed work at site, which he often did on Sundays.
Something did not look quite right to me; his dismissal appeared too sweeping. Maybe he does not really know how to read these technical drawings?
My team was asked to suggest how a parcel of a hillock had to be cut. That should be a fairly simple do; notwithstanding, I asked for four sets of drawings to be prepared, with minor variations (in contours and colours). True enough, the Old Man expressed “concern” over the first drawing.
“Never mind, Tan Sri, maybe you can take a look at the second proposal?” I asked.
Turning to the second drawing, he immediately said it was better. I asked him if he would like to see more.
He signed on the third drawing!
On site, none of the drawings were used when we did the actual cutting.
* * * * *
The above are the chapters on my first stint in Above-the-Cloud. More of these if readers are interested!
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