Do good any way

One day you will just be a memory for some people no matter what good you have done. Just do your best to be a good one so that they can keep you in memory for the longest time.

Old age is just a number

In my way of thinking the often seen phrase "old age is just a number" means that to someone who may be old but feels, acts and think as a young person actual biological age is not important.

I just found out today that my old age number
is No #9. Here's the story.

I and my wife were at the bank this morning. After filling up some forms the petite lady customer service officer told me that I need not take a number nor queue up for service and directed me to go straight to counter No #10 to complete my banking transaction. At counter no. #10 the bank officer said I should go to counter no. #9. So off I reported dutifully to counter No #9.

The big metal plaque put up at counter No #9 has the following words stenciled oi its surface in bold red letters

"Special Counter No #9 for senior citizens. disabled persons, and pregnant women only"

So now I am reminded by the world, no less the bank, that my number is No #9, sharing the same honour with disabled persons and pregnant ladies.

Baby of the company

E
ngaging in a casual conversation with S, a colleague who is leaving the company during the farewell lunch this afternoon organised by the staff in his honour. He told me with some pride that he had served a total of 30 years as an employee with the company. Thinking that I am also a long-service employee like him S asked me how long I have been with the company.

"Only 8 years! Compare to you guys who have put in decades of years here I am just the baby of the company," I told him modestly.

A sore thumb...

I used to think that "a sore thumb" is just a figure of speech. Now I know that there is such a physical ailment called sore thumb. Due to unknown causes my inflamed left thumb has become swollen and it's quite painful. I'm hoping that after the finger pressure massage with traditional Chinese herbal ointment and a good night's sleep the swelling will be gone by tomorrow morning.

Printer woes

Ithought I could squeeze the
last drop of ink out of the almost
depleted ink cartridges to thrash and
work the printer to the ground
Alas after completed printing
half a page the inkjet printer
refused to eject the paper
Then I knew and had to concede
that the time time to replace the
spent ink cartridges has come.

An ordinary day & an extraordinary sunshine smile

On my way to attend a meeting
stopped by a toll plaza to pay toll
Thinking of cheering up my mood
ahead of the meeting I waved my
hands in a friendly gesture and
flashed a big toothy smile in the
direction of the lady ticket collector.
Not paying any particular attention
I didn't register her appearance.
Startled, at first her face broke into
a faint smile, then, a grin, and then
a giggle and, finally burst out laughing aloud
before handing me the change and receipt.
When she popped her head out of the
counter window to wave me on with
another smile only then I noticed her face.
Wow! What a fair lady behind the sweet smile.
Thank you miss for brightening up
my ordinary day with your
extraordinary sunshine smile.

Cock-a-doodle-do!

Cock-a-doodle-doo. My hand phone suddenly activated the alarm.

Everybody in my family was taken by surprised, including myself at the sound.

Earlier in the day I saw the alarm icon in my handphone and tried many times to deactivate it but to no avail. At that time I didn't even know that the clock symbol is a alarm icon. After many attempts I decided to ignore it. I never knew that the alarm ring tone is the sound of a cock crying cock-a doodle-do. I didn't even know when I had set the alarm.

Everyone had a good laugh after we realised where the sound came from.

Anyway, I come to like this ringtone and I have decided to set this as the alarm ringtone to wake me up at 6.30am every morning.

Dour Faced Waiter

This afternoon I encountered a most dour faced object; the wooden-face-looking waiter who came over to my table to take my order. He must be having a bad day on his job.

Mickey Mouse and The Rat Race

I wonder how a mouse crosses a busy road. Does it know like a human how to look right, left, front, rear and listen to the sound of traffic before sprinting across the carriageway or it just dashes off in a death wish hara kiri?

This morning as I was driving my car in slow cruise I suddenly became aware of a blurry shadow zooming past my vision across the road carriageway in front of the car.

When I slowed down my car I watched in deep fascination how a young Mickey Mouse hurriedly scurried across the road; in fast motion its tiny feet giving the appearance of the many legs of a caterpillar bearing a long slender body above. Naturally I had enough compassion not to run Mickey down and and instead wished him the best of luck the next time he try the same stunt again on a busy road.

Floored by 6 uncooperative Papermate "Kilometrico" ballpoint pens

I always keep a cloth pouch containing some Papermate "Kilometrico" ballpoint pens and also a box file containing a stack of membership application forms in my exercise bag wherever I go to conduct classes. In the pouch there is an assortment of 6 sticks of used and new ball point pens.

In my wishful thinking I imagine that one fine day when a platoon of new students sign up for Aikido lessons on the spot and at the same time I would have enough pens and papers to go round for filling up their applications.

Of course such a happy scenario has not happened before and I doubt I will ever get to see it in my life time. Unlike say in the glamorous show business the humble Aikido teacher is a far cry from the celebrity superstar who can command hordes of adoring fans standing in line patiently for hours waiting for his appearance. Fairy tales aside still I reckon there is no harm in having a few pens available for the convenience of the first time applicant to fill up his membership applications; afterall not everybody carries a pen in his shirt pocket all the time. Besides if the ink in one pen dries out the other 5 pens will serve as useful backups, the practical side in me thinks.

Then last night in Semenyih Dojo the most unbelievable thing happened. A father and son team walked into the class the dad asking for his Form 2 boy to be accepted as an Aikido trainee. No problem, just filled up the application form and pay up the monthly fee, I was too happy to tell the father and his boy.

Then noticing that the boy was wearing a black pocket-less T-shirt and did not have a pen I offered one Kilometrico which I took out from the pouch for him to fill up the application form. He could not write any sentences on the form because there was no ink flowing out of the pen. The ink in the pen must have dried out, I thought and offered him the second Kilometrico. The second pen was as dry as the first. Still quite confident I took out the third pen, but again no ink. The out came the fourth pen. Again no ink. Getting a bit frustrated I offered him the fifth pen. Again no ink. Already quite distressed I offered him the sixth and the last pen which was a new and unused pen. Again to my horror the last Kilometrico was as dry as the Sahara Desert!!!

This time realising that the 6 uncooperative and rebellious Kilometricos had timed and chosen to commit an act of betrayer on me, their owner and master, at the crucial moment I felt utterly devastated and foolishly embarrassed. All this while as the high drama was being played out the boy's father was watching silently from the side at the ridiculous happening. I couldn't tell whether the boy's father was amused or laughing at me as I studiously avoid looking in his direction.

Fortunately in my darkest moments of truth as had happened a few times in the past there was always a guardian angel mysteriously appearing by my side to save my ass. Noticing my predicament the mom of one of my students who happened to be around and who witnessed the whole ridiculous episode then handed her own ballpoint pen to the boy to fill up the membership application form.