January 19, 2013

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    Compartir19 January 2013

     

    "Why do you like this job?" I ask.

     

    Carol, for all her bubbly exterior, 

    looks serious for a moment while

    considering her options to respond.

     

    Finally she said, "I do what I do 

    because it helps people feel good

    about themselves. It's always 

    very personal for someone to

    come to me so when they do,

    I take pride in that."

     

    She looks at me. I get it. 

    And I smile easily. 

     

    "That's true. You do know 

    that I trust you a lot, right?"

     

    Carol smiles back. "I know.

    And I appreciate that. A lot."

     

    She continues to work. 

    Her hands move fast, adept. 

     

    "People don't realise it but when

    they are in here, they loosen up.

    They talk about things they 

    normally wouldn't with their

    friends, or husbands or wives.

    They don't always expect me to

    respond but I am happy to listen."

     

    "Like a therapist," I joke.

     

    Carol laughs, her wide eyes shining. 

    "Yeah. Not as expensive!"

     

    This young woman from Sekinchan,

    the daughter of a fisherman and a

    schoolteacher; there's just this thing

    about her that I like. 

     

    I asked her once, after having met

    her late last year, if her parents know

    what she does for a living here in KL.

     

    "I'm very honest with them. They know."

     

    What did they think about it?

     

    She had shrugged the question off.

    "Every parent wants their child

    to have a good job, right?" 

    I told her immediately that this

    was just a good a job as any other.

    I hadn't enough clarity back then

    to tell her why, though.

     

    Seems like she already knows.

     

    Before I leave, she gives me a cup

    of sweet lime juice and announces,

    "I'm getting married this year."

     

    That's wonderful, I tell Carol. 

    I am genuinely thrilled for her.

    Was she going back to Sekinchan?

     

    "Singapore. He works there."

     

    We hug. "I'll miss you."

     

    "You can visit me there. I'll start

    my own place. He'll help me."

    She thinks for a bit, then adds,

    "I'll charge in ringgit."

     

    We laugh, probably for the last time.

    As I exit the place I look at Carol 

    behind the counter and see her

    laughing at something a friend

    tells her, her big eyes shining.

     

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