Photo: Freepik
MY late father was a Chinese primary school teacher, teaching in the same school I attended in Sungai Petani.
Teachers in the 1940s and 1950s and those today are poles apart. Being the sole breadwinner, my dad struggled to support a family of six with his meagre income.
One day, after finishing junior middle one, my dad arranged for me to work at a sundry shop in Merbau Pulas.
He assured me I’d be in good hands since the shop owner’s wife, Ah Lian, was our former neighbour.
With some trepidation, I set out early the next morning. Effortlessly, I found the sundry shop. The proprietor, Koon Ko (Brother Koon), and a young man, whom I later learned was his longtime shop assistant, Ah Leng, were both inside. Koon Ko introduced me to his wife, whom I used to call “Lian Chee”.
Lian Chee briefed me on my duties. She instructed me not to wake up later than 6am so that I would have time to bathe, sweep the floor, open the front door, and prepare for the day’s business.
These tasks were considered standard for a live-in sundry shop assistant like me.
After leaving my bag in a room upstairs, Lian Chee told me to help out in the shop and learn from Ah Leng.
Ah Leng taught me the tricks of the trade – how to weigh items, the correct size of paper bags for different products, and how to memorise the prices of popular goods to avoid asking questions constantly.
With Ah Leng keeping a close watch, I started attending to customers while Koon Ko remained at the payment counter.
By lunchtime, more customers arrived – mostly Malays and Indians who were rubber tappers or estate workers. I was amazed at Ah Leng’s ability to speak fluent Malay and even some Tamil.
The shop closed at about 9pm. Ah Leng showed me how to store items displayed near the entrance and how to shut the doors so I could do it myself the next morning.
That was the first time in my life I had stood for hours. Exhausted, I slept like a baby that night, even though I was on a bare straw mat without a mattress.
I woke before 6am and followed all of Lian Chee’s instructions.
Later, she surprised me by saying I was not allowed to wear shorts with pockets in the shop. That was not all – whenever business was slow, she always found tasks for me, like pasting paper bags or hitting flour sacks against the back wall until they appeared clean, usually not until my face and body turned white with powder.
I was puzzled – why did all these instructions come from Lian Chee alone when Koon Ko was the actual proprietor? Much later, Ah Leng revealed that in this shop, Lian Chee called the shots, and even Koon Ko followed her lead. What a “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” she was!
After slogging for more than a month, I expected something in return, but nothing was forthcoming.
When I finally asked Ah Leng if he had received his wages, his response floored me. “According to ‘Tau Kia So’ (boss’s wife), your father told her: never mind about pay.” I packed and left immediately.
Had I not been given the rough end of the pineapple, I might have continued working as a shop assistant. Whether I would have become a successful businessman is uncertain. However, one thing is clear – I would not have completed my secondary education.
Apparently my dad had made a mistake, but rightly or wrongly, he did everything out of love for me. In a reversal of fate, not only had my dad allowed me to continue with my secondary education, he even enrolled me in Chung Ling High School in Georgetown, Penang – a place where I would never dare to dream of given our financial situation.
By then, schools had already reopened, but better late than never.
