Happy times at the libraries

Me at Marine Parade Library, wearing a mask which I
taught the kids to make for Halloween.

PERHAPS I should have stayed on as a Library Officer. It wasn't too bad.

This was my second job after graduating from the university -- after a short spell with World Scientific. It wasn't my first choice. My first choice was to be an Archives Officer. I was disappointed. I had so wanted to interview people and record their history. I do so want to learn how to restore old documents... Nosing round old, crumbling buildings and doing paper rubbing on artifacts and sculptures. Why oh why, didn't the National Archives take me in?

Oh well. So I started work at the Ang Mo Kio (AMK) Library which was closest to where I was staying at Serangoon Gardens. When I bought my bike, I was even able to cycle to work (through Cheng San Road, then carry the bike up a flight of steps and hitting Ang Mo Kio Avenue 10. )

I later got to work at Marine Parade Branch Library -- a happy time for me too as the library attendants there were a happy bunch and fun. Besides other things, I was in charge of the Christmas tree. I was rather proud of introducing the method of storing it in its entirety -- lights, baubles, cotton wool snow and all -- so that next Christmas, all you have to do is to shake it out from its plastic bag, and ta-rum!

Me hosting a quiz for the kids at MPBL.

On my first day at AMK, the senior librarian took me round the place and made me do a conducted tour for her immediately after that, saying that was the fastest way to familiarise myself. She gave a tight-lipped smile that was almost a sneer after I had stumbled through the tour. But she seemed satisfied.

She was very trendy -- usually in pointed high heels -- and usually red. Reed thin, she had long, permed hair.She carried herself really well, not at all your idea of a frumpy, frazzled librarian. But she wasn't one who would want to be chummy with you. She was rather officious and distant from everyone.

I was great pals with a fellow librarian. I liked him the moment I saw him gliding into the office on a skateboard. He passed me some really great tips on getting round the idiosyncrasies of our colleagues. He was going out with a Muslim library attendant whom he later married. We all went to the wedding. She was a real sweetie.

The Chief Librarian at AMK Library was Mrs Mavis Richards. She had a passion for books, with a great passion to share that passion with children and teenagers. She encouraged me to do reviews for children books and was always dumping books upon books on my table for me to read -- and review. I admired her spirit. She was a no-nonsense boss, but warm -- and fair.

Every library officer had to do story telling. For me, those sessions always turned out a shouting match. How do you read and make yourself heard above the din? I usually ended playing some kind of games with the kids in the closed room -- with parents pressing their noses onto the small glass panes at the door.

A token story would be read by me (with no one listening) and then it was game time! One of my favourite games (and the kids' too, it seemed) was "Two Little Black Birds". The kids would sing the song "Two little black birds sitting on the wall, one named Peter, one named Paul. Fly away Peter, fly away Paul... Come back Peter, come back Paul."

As the kids sitting on the floor sang, two of them would act the part of Peter and Paul. They perched on two chairs in front, flapping their wings wildly... and hopped down to fly away at the end of the song. Some flew back to the chairs and had to be chased away because there were others queuing up to be Peter and Paul.

Actually Mrs Richards wasn't very keen for games to be played during storytelling sessions. And strange enough, when she told stories, the kids were as silent as could be, listening attentively. Maybe I just did not have the demeanor...and the stature of a librarian.

We also took turns to sit at the duty desk, answering all sorts of queries -- from where the toilets were to where books on China were shelved. You always get a kick out of satisfying someone by giving him exactly what he needed.

However, for me, the evenings could stretch on rather too tediously sometimes, with no interesting requests. It would be a blah evening indeed when even the usual mad caller did not ring in to scold the librarian over some nonsensical issues.

So on such days, just about half an hour before closing time, I would have the library attendants collect "stray" books from the tables and putting them onto trolleys to be shelved -- and I think it was ok for them to do this with some noise too -- a subtle message for everyone to pack up. Some who were sleeping over their books would have to be nudged awake by whispering loudly "closing time!" into their ears.

The last book would return to its rightful shelf at 8.50pm. The lights would be off at 8.55pm. The 2nd last lock would click at 8.56pm. The last shutter and lock slipped into place exactly at 9pm -- and then HOME!

A taste of Estab after A-levels

For whom the bell tolls?

NEARLY everyone I knew, tried to get a job through the PSC (Public Service Commission) after they got their A Levels. That was in the 70's, the era of the "iron rice bowl". There was the bonus to look forward too, the annual increment, the annual leave. There would be courses to attend. There would be bars to cross in the salary scale and if crossed successfully, there would be increment. Everything very structured. That was what my sister-in-law told me. She had just become a "civil servant".

After my interviews at PSC and medical checkup, I was allotted the job as an Executive Officer (EO) with Tan Tock Seng Hospital (TTSH). I was EO for Admin & Estab (A&E). The office was a brick cum wooden bungalow next to the canteen (a Nissan hut) at the hospital. A wooden staircase led to all floors at the side of the building. The big boss of this office was the Medical Superintendent. My immediate boss was the HEO (Higher Executive Officer). And his boss was the SEO (Senior Executive Officer) who reported to the Superintendent.

The long office (with wooden floor) had an open-space concept. The HEO took supreme position at one extreme end of the office. He had a huge desk with a glass pane over it. By just glancing up from his work, he was able to get a complete view of the happenings at the office. Seated at one side of the office, one behind the other, were two clerical officers (CO) -- a Mr and Mrs Teo (they were not husband and wife) who were extremely nice to me. They had been working there for eons.

In fact, everybody there seemed to have worked there for eons. There was another lady there who served another department but was somehow parked at our office. Another lady who seemed to be doing some correspondence and communications for the Superintendent, was seated near me. I wasn't quite sure what her main work was but it must be something to do with medical records of airline staff. Huge X-ray films would be delivered to her by a man who apparently looked very much forward to seeing her and would linger around to talk to her after delivery.

This lady was a great communicator. I often heard her calling one Mr Rubello (in an American accent, though I imagined Rubello would be an Italian ) who seemed to be an airline pilot, about his X-Ray. "Hello, Mr R-rrrubello.... How a-rrrre you?" The Superintendent always used her as an example of one who could write good minutes and memos. She was indeed, an extremely efficient lady with great diplomatic skills. Meticulously dressed and made-up, she was my idol.

There were three typists -- two served the entire office and one only typed stuffs for the Superintendent and the one who went "R-rrrubello". This special typist's work station was at the veranda of the bungalow office. I always envied the location of her work station -- and for being so attractive -- she was dating a young doctor whom she met while having lunch at the canteen next door.

I went to work each day dreading my "in-tray". It was piled high with correspondence I could not understand.  Mr Teo with his huge spectacles, would help me clear the tray, explaining each letter and memo. He was so capable and  efficient, I wonder why they needed me. At the end of the day, I was supposed to be supervising him. The logic didn't sound quite right to me. I was only 18 then, and he must be in his 30s at least. How would he feel to be supervised by someone so much younger -- and one who knew nothing?

After some idea of what to do, thanks to Mr Teo, I had to draft replies to memos and letters which needed to be cleared by the HEO. The HEO summoned staff to his desk by pressing a bell and then calling the name.

"Miss Lo!" was called very often -- in a snappy tone that did not augur well for me.

Back to the in-tray. At the top right hand corner of some correspondence, "Action"  with a little arrow next to it, would be scribbled. I would go to Mr Teo for help and he would patiently try to decipher whose scribble it was -- and to figure out the "action" required.

There seemed to be a difference between memos and letters. For letters, you can start with "Dear so and so" But for memos, it would be "Attention (attn): So and so". I didn't quite get the hang of things. It was the first time I heard of "memos". The only officialese I knew then was "To Whom It May Concern" (I learnt this from the movie, 'The King and I'). But I didn't have the chance to use this at TTSH.

So the bell continued to ring intermittently in the office, and the call for "Miss Lo".

The office sprang into life at 8.30am, with the office attendant frantically straightening the cushions on the sofa at the staircase landing and then galloping down to await the arrival of the Superintendent. We would hold our breathe and bend low over our work as THE Superintendent arrived, chauffeured. He would run up the stairs to his office on the top floor, with fair amount of alacrity -- followed by the attendant carrying his briefcase.

Life was a little regimental in this little A&E office. But I did have a lot of fun attending the orientation camp for new civil servants and made some friends working in different ministries. I liked my SEO though, he was a warm-hearted and cheerful Indian who never failed to make me feel at ease each time I was called to his office. His office was a little further down the veranda, separated from the rest of us.

There was a short cut we used to go to Balestier Road to catch the bus home. This was a narrow path which passed a football field. One day, much to my delight, I saw our Superintendent playing football and watched one of his shoes flew into the goal as he kicked the ball. That really made my day!

When I requested for a transfer to RTS (Radio Television Singapore) a few months after I joined TTSH, the Superintendent saw me (guess it was an exit interview of sorts) in his office which was lined with book shelves.  Very seriously, he told me that the job at RTS would probably suit me better. He was right.

Writing memos and official letters is definitely not my cup of tea.

Lunch hour and its pleasures

Beef Rendang

THERE's nothing more pleasurable than lunchtime -- and after that, a spot of shopping. The other day, I had lunch at Jln Rumah Tinggi area, near ABC market. Wow. I thought the place I had lunch the other time at Teban Gardens has some of the most old fashioned shops. But here, at the neighbourhood of Rumah Tinggi, I can find the dimmest-lit shop -- unpolished cement floor and all. Displayed at its dusty glass case at the entrance, were one or two pieces of silver jewelry, three gold chains, earrings and some odd pieces of jade. I guess it is a junk shop, as in the dark interior, many things were stacked up. How absolutely interesting.

The owner was seated deep inside the shop, chatting with her old crony, and couldn't care two hoots what's happening outside. Browse as long as you like -- no one will bother you. My kind of shop.

Yesterday, I lunched at an old shopping centre, Bukit Timah Plaza. The Muslim food at B1 is my favourite. I also liked the Chinese "point-point" stall at the lowest basement, but it is so popular that you won't find seats there at peak lunch time. One of my favourite stalls is the one selling household items on B1 -- from floor mats, towels, bed sheets, brooms, mops, crockery to pyjamas. The clothes shop near the Muslim food stall is also good for bargains -- tank tops from $10 to $13. I will never miss the pet shop on B2. Rabbits seem to be a favourite pet -- because the turnover is always very good. Each time I visited, there are different rabbits.

Lunch hour at Maxwell Road

 Talking about lunch time... After my O levels, I was a temp (daily-rated) with the National Development Building or NDB as it was known then, at Maxwell Road. My job was to calculate floor areas of buildings on proposal plans, under the supervision of a straight-talking nice man with grey hair called Mr Khoo. He was a man of few words but if you could somehow get him talking, he could tell you interesting things -- like how he actually walked to work from Toa Payoh. And when he laughed, he would throw back his head and really laughed, loud and hearty.

Anyway, I was talking about lunch time. Those days, my lunch was a boiled egg I brought from home. But occasionally, I would follow my former school mate, Margaret (she came from a rich family) to lunch. She was also a temp there, but on the 2nd floor. I was on the 5th floor. She would take me to this Hakka (she's a Hakka) yong taufu stall at Cross Street.

Lunch hour at Orchard Road

Then, after my A levels, I was temping as a receptionist at Albert Photo. Mr Albert Lee, the boss, had a photo studio at the basement of Orchard Towers where Peyton Place was (and still is, I believe). He also had a department store upstairs where he sold cameras, lenses, photographic equipment and electronic goods.

I knew Mr Lee as a very kind man -- although he looked a bit stern, with big eyes and a formidable moustache. His hair was jet black, neatly combed back (rather like Mr Tony Tan's). Everyday, he would offer to tabao lunch and would ask me what I like. I would tell him "just an apple". He would always ask, "Are you sure? I buy you chicken rice, ok?" When I insisted on apple, he always brought me the reddest and sweetest of apples.

I will always remember him for his kindness. He would give me "job expansion" thinking I was bored sitting at the studio reception the whole day. Once, he asked me whether I would like to do stocks. Maths was my worst subject, but I didn't have the heart to turn him down. So I helped with stock checking. But the storekeeper was a political woman who didn't like me around. Mr Lee detected the chemistry between me and her wasn't quite right and asked me to help with sales instead. He told me to come up to the sales department anytime I like, if there wasn't anything happening at the studio. I translated it to mean "Come up and have some fun if you are bored downstairs...."

I had a great time at sales. Business was pretty good. Tourists trooped in all times of the day. The register rang non-stop. But alas, I didn't quite get the knack of clanging those registers.  Sometimes, Mr Lee's mother would also come down to the department store and her presence could be felt -- even many cash registers away where I was trying furiously to give the right change to customers.

I think Mr Lee subsequently also agreed that my maths wasn't so great. To continue alleviating my boredom, he sometimes sent me to deliver films to Tanglin Shopping Centre where they had a photo shop.  I certainly enjoyed those "outings".

It was with some sadness that I had to tell Mr Lee that I had a job offer as a reporter with The Citizen. He looked at me with his huge eyes (which I would like to think, showed a bit of disappointment) and said, "So you like to write? Hmmm, if you find you don't like writing after all, you are welcome to come back."

When I was a reporter, I persuaded my editor to let me interview Mr Lee as I knew he owns a rare, antique Hasselblad. It was my excuse for seeing Mr Lee again.  Mr Lee agreed to be interviewed -- after much persuasion.

I wonder how he is now... I certainly hope he is well -- and kept his trademark moustache. I understand he was a self-made man who made a name for himself taking photographs and then expanding to own a chain of photo shops all over Singapore.

Mr Lee, thanks so much for your kindness.

What's in a ball?

Bet you, there's a ball in this lion's mouth.

Lion guarding an old Chinese building next to
 51 Cuppage Road.. Below, close up of the ball within its mouth.

WHEN I was a reporter with The Citizen, an interviewee told me that stone lions, those guarding the entrances of buildings, usually have a ball in their mouth. And if one is somehow able to take it out from their mouth (without destroying the lions of course), than you are sure to have good luck.

But those lions are not recognised as guardians for nothing. They certainly guard that ball in their mouth zealously. There's certainly no way one can remove the ball. Credits to the sculptors who carved the perfectly rounded ball in the lion's mouth. You put your hand in and you can actually roll that ball around in the lion's mouth. How tantalizing!

I used to have a rubber toy -- a dog holding on to a ball. Dad bought it at Change Alley -- each time he visited the place he would try to buy something there for us. He had to go down to the area for business almost every day. So it was always in great trepidation that we waited for Dad to come home in the evening.

Anyway, the dog was yellow all over but the ball was multicoloured. And each time I played with the toy, I wished I could remove the ball from its paws so that I could have a new ball to play with. Such an attractive ball it looked to me then. The size was just nice for the game of "Rounders" as well. Not sure whether you have played "Rounders" Singapore style -- but it was played like baseball without the bat. You are thrown a small ball which you have to bat with your hand and then try and do a home run before the ball is caught. If you haven't reached a base and got hit by the ball, you are out of the game.

The toy was subsequently "donated" to the church, along with a lot of old clothings and other toys. But I think it was rejected by the child it was supposed to be given to because I happened to see it at a dark corner of the church's hall -- all forlorn and the ball still secured in its paws.

Somehow, balls which are easily "obtainable" -- like the bright pink one in plastic netting that mum bought for us to play with (as a ball) -- are always not as attractive and appealing as those which are not easily obtainable like the one secured in the dog's paws.

Or the one in the lion's mouth.