Musings…

I know this sounds really clichéd but thank God it’s Friday, really. It’s been such a weird and hectic week. I’m sitting in my office on my last day of work before I take off for two weeks, and the electricity chose to fail on me. So right now I’m sitting in my dark room quite devoid of sunlight with all the chemicals blinking back at me in the surreal stillness and contemplating on what to do before Tenaga have the problem rectified.

            For starters maybe I could tell a little bit about my day job, which hangs somewhere between plain weird and drop-dead interesting at times. I am a technical specialist – I deal with raw materials that go into products like your toiletries, household items, as well as specific ointments and creams aimed at weight loss, anti-aging, anti eye bags, anti acne, anti cellulite, etcetera, etcetera.

            How far my range of clients would go to put themselves above each other sometimes is really quite beyond me. Yesterday I had the strangest encounter I’ve had in months. It sort of brings forth the fact that human vanity can go to extreme, if sometimes bizarre lengths…and so the story goes, I received a phone call in the morning with regards to an active ingredient for the hair market. I was told to present to them exceptional products that 1) could curb hair loss and simultaneously stimulate hair growth (presumably at the crown) and 2) could prevent hair growth at certain other areas (presumably upper lip, legs, hands, whatever).

            It was a common enquiry as any, I thought. So I prepared the presentation materials as well as some samples to be brought to them on that day itself, as they claimed it was a very urgent project (they always claim thus anyway). It started off innocently enough. The customer was a husband-wife team who had always treated me very nicely. That day, as usual, I was presented with a cup of tea and milk biscuits in their office, which was also their home.

            After the normal exchange of grandmother stories, I sat down and positioned myself to begin the presentation. The first raw material I presented was the one that could curb hair loss and stimulate hair growth. I was halfway through when the husband, a big man with balding head stopped me and questioned:

            “Where is this function aimed at?”

            That got me quite disorientated for a while.

            “I’m sorry…what do you mean?” I asked politely. Like…where else would an anti-hair loss product be functioning on?

            “It works at the head right?” he asked innocently.

            “Ahhh….yeah…?” I answered, my eyebrows drawn close together now.

            “I see, I see. Does it work the same way on the chest area?” with his flabby fingers he cupped his breasts (I swear he has them). That got me stumped … for a full half a minute, before I regained my ability to respond. My throat itched somewhat from wanting to laugh incredulously. All I could think about then was Austin Powers flashing his hairy chest and that vixen of a lady exclaiming “You’re my monkey man.” A loud snicker escaped and I tried to disguise it as half a snort and half a cough.

            “Ahh…” I opened my mouth to say something…anything that would sound a mite professional. I couldn’t find anything to say.

            “Ermm…you mean you want a product that aids hair growth on the…on the…” I stuttered.

            “…chest area,” the wife conveniently finished for me.

            “You know Asian men do not have a lot of hair on the chest,” Monkey Man wannabe interrupted.

            “Okay…” I contemplated for a moment, not wanting to sound insulting to his idea of manliness.

            “I’ve never had quite such an enquiry before so…I think I’ve got to get back to the principal and check on this a little before I can give you a firm answer,” I said at last. My throat was still itching because I hadn’t the chance to laugh out loud and hard the way I wanted as hell to.

            “Who’s asking about this again?” I asked, curious now why there would be a market for such a product.

            “A customer from

China

,” he answered.

            Hmmh. Swell, I thought. They had a weird definition on beauty and sex appeal, I thought. I wouldn’t want to lay my head on a chestful of fur before dozing off to sleep, if anyone asked me, but…

            “Oh, we haven’t finished, there’s another enquiry. This depilatory enzyme that you recommended to me the last time around…is it safe for use all over the body?” the wife asked.

            Having had the preparation, I could only guess what their next question would be. I started feeling little bubbles effervescing up my chest. How much stranger could this get really?

            “All over the body as in…?”

            Monkey Man did not let me down.

            “Is it safe for use in the nostrils and down under?”

            Oh my gosh! My inner voice claimed. That was so plain f888ing direct that despite the preparation I almost choked on my saliva. I munched on a milk cookie to give myself extra time to respond. It tasted like cardboard.

            I cleared my throat. The itch was driving me stark mad.

            “So you want to use the enzyme in the nostril and …down there…the bikini line you mean?”

            I could feel the blood rushing up my head. Damn it, I curse myself for blushing so easily. I must be quite so brick red then.

            “Yes…you know these people. Can’t stand the pain of plucking, so would rather have a chemical that dissolves the hair for them…”

            “Ahh…I see.”

            I SEE. With my mind’s eye, I saw those potential buyers spraying depilatory liquid into their nostrils and…ergghhh! I’m cross-eyed.

            “Arhh…you do know that this product consists of microorganisms that generate the enzymes…do you?” I asked slowly.

            “Yeah, yeah,” both nodded their heads enthusiastically.

            Okay…I was like…I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want any tiny microbes crawling all over my privates and nostrils even if it eliminates hair at those spots for the rest of my life…

            A little bit of chit here and a little bit of chat there, and I was done. I left, feeling this nonsensical urge to scream, not because I was frustrated or anything but because of the pent up laughter deep inside that needed leeway. I felt my stomach groan, probably due to indigestion and bad air when I was suppressing mirth like there as no tomorrow.

            Watch our people, a revolutionary breakthrough might occur right before your very eyes to cure you of your hairy woes! (choke choke snort snort).

            

            

            

            

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