I was at the Tanjung Bungah post office on Tuesday afternoon to get my driving licence renewed when a Mat Salleh woman stepped into the crowded space with a Pos Laju failed delivery notice in her hand.
I knew right away that she wasn’t at the right place. I peeked around, looking for the security guard who’d always be the one to point customers to the right counters, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Great!” I thought as I observed the crowd growing.
A moment later, a middle-aged local woman stepped into the post office after scanning her smartphone and getting her temperature read. Upon noticing the letter held by the Mat Salleh woman, she promptly walked towards her, pointing at the exit door.
“For failed PosLaju deliveries, the collection point is behind this building. Just walk out and go to the back.”
The Mat Salleh woman nodded before making her exit.
“Hmm. I could have done that,” I thought.
Fifteen minutes passed and I was still in the post office, waiting for my number to be called. The place was getting crowded, and I was getting anxious. So I got up and went out to the front yard. Quite a number of people were already there - some seated, several stood and others walked in zig-zags with their phones in their ears.
Twenty minutes passed. By then, I had broken out into more than a little sweat, from the scorching sun glaring down on my back. Despite the nice breeze coming from the ocean, the heat was burning more than my skin.
“So hot ah?” said a lady who stood nearby.
I nodded, didn’t even bother to force a smile with my mask on.
“So crowded. This is all because of MCO (movement control order)!” she lamented. “Tesco and Maybank are also crowded. Luckily I managed to get my groceries and all my banking done this morning before MCO.”
I nodded once again, really not in the mood for a conversation about anything MCO related.
“This government I tell you ah, really doing a lousy job. If they didn’t allow people to cross borders, cases in Penang would not have gone up, I tell you!”
I took out my phone and pretended to be replying to text messages, hoping she would find somebody else in a chatty mood. Thank God, she moved away a few minutes later.
Another 15 minutes passed. I glanced at my ticket – 2056. And the number on the customer display screen was at 2052. All right, three more to go.
I got up on my feet to step into the air-conditioned post office when I realised the drain separating me and the entrance was uncovered. The cement drain covers were removed for some reason and were left at the side.
I stood there staring at the uncovered drain for a few moments, imagining the worst. I mean what if someone mistakenly stepped into the drain and stumbled onto the ground? Even worse, what if it was a child, an elderly person or a pregnant woman? Good God!
As I kept myself busy thinking about all the worst outcomes while cursing the people who had left the drain uncovered in the first place, an elderly man who had just stepped out of the post office suddenly bent down and carried the cement drain cover with his bare hands, and ultimately covered the drain.
I looked at him, surprised and managed to thank him for being so thoughtful. However, deep in my heart I thought, “I could have done that. Now, why didn’t I?”
As I drove home after renewing my licence, I kept wondering why I did not point the Mat Salleh woman to the right direction, entertain the lady who had many qualms about MCO or fix the drainage cover when I was very much capable of doing so.
I mean, the younger version of me - the pre-March 2020 version that is - would have done all that in a heartbeat. Why then was I reluctant to be that kind, responsible member of the society that I am?
A self-absorbed sourpuss
To blame everything on MCO may be a little too cliché, but I feel this is exactly what’s happening to our society, or at least to some of us. The MCO has somehow turned us into self-absorbed sourpusses who just want to be left alone.
When we went through the MCO last March 2020, nobody expected it to transform our lifestyle – but it did. Staying in isolation for months, engaging in online activities where our social lives developed virtually instead of organically, it must have affected us somehow – or else how would you explain the behaviour change?
Some call this transformation the ‘new normal’ as many of us are forced to change the way we do our daily activities. Today, we not only wear our masks and hide our faces while standing apart with a one-metre gap from each other in front of restaurants, shops, banks and post offices, we also refrain from unnecessary social conversations.
In the past, we would be frowned upon and called arrogant if we do not shake hands when meeting people. Today, just an act of approaching another would receive frowns.
Like me, some of us today are doing things that we would never have done previously. While obeying the SOPs set by the authorities to combat the Covid-19 pandemic, sadly we are also losing the essence of ourselves.
As we begin our second round of MCO, I fear for the worst. I fear becoming the person I am not. I fear being surrounded by people who do not care about anyone but themselves.
Now that would be a disaster – and no vaccine is available to combat that.
FA ABDUL is a passionate storyteller, a media trainer, an aspiring playwright, a director, a struggling producer, a photographer, an expert Facebooker, a lazy blogger, a part-time queen and a full-time vainpot. - Mkini
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.
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