So that I Will remember

 

I have misplaced my glasses many times ever since I needed one. I have misplaced them so many times in a week that my wife begged with me to get one of those neck strap thing for my glasses as to do way with my almost daily questions as to whether she had seen my glasses. But pride prevailed. Though my body ached all over in the morning and rare strands of white are slowly creeping into my black head of hair and I have to spend some time looking for my glasses everyday, I am adamant that I am not of that age bracket. Hell no. Until the day I am offered senior discounts, I will maintain the delusion of time having no mastery over me.

Like my glasses, same goes with things that I encounter. I have learned that what is not written down will be lost or forgotten. That saying of Madey about Malays came to mind. The practice of stories, traditions, laws and customs being passed down from orally from one generation to another is dying out. One might say that written records have somewhat robbed the magic out of oral story telling aspect of memory and records but such is the way of the world. One things perishes and another will take its place. Now, physical books are slowly being complemented with e-books and yet we are still not a society of readers, but that is a matter for another day. Anyhow, point is, write it down or you are liable to forget the damned thing you are supposed to remember. What you jot down, you can see. What you can see, you can retain better in your mind.

I thought that my love of typing things (and making things up) to be no more than a youthful indulgence, a passing fad for many blogs of my contemporary during university days have lain fallow after the late 2010s when most of us joined the working world but time showed otherwise. I am now required to treat writing as an occupational hazard though it be in terse legalese and of the truth and nothing but the truth. Maybe, when I can carve out the time I will be able to type/make things up again for fun (and for a bit of profit). Not in court of course and not here, in this blog.

Unlike its many predecessors lost in the Void, the purpose of this blog is for me to write down what I have discovered throughout my practice as long as I am in practice. More or less- lah. If I do write about family and the human things which I will from time to time it is because I wanted to remind myself the reason why I am in legal practice to begin with. So bear with me.

Another reason I started this blog also is because some time ago in the course of a conversation that began in a clear late afternoon and ended in the dim twilight where you can barely see each other’s face in the murk, a guru of mine suggested to me to get typing again as the means to let off the excess angst and steam of litigation practice in a healthy way. It works, to certain extent.

While I cuss and indulge in profanities (which is one way of looking at it) in my stuff here from time to time, I choose to look at it as putting extra emphasis to certain points I am making. I am after all letting some steam and trying to record things at the same time.

I write in both Malay and English because my Malay is mostly in bahasa pasar which could do with refinement and my English could do with an improvement in terms of clarity and quality. Maybe not King’s English material but something pleasant to the ears and eyes at the very least.

That got me thinking.

If King’s English is the yardstick of the correct and pure version of English then what is the Malay version of it? Agong’s Malay? If so which Agong? I mean we have words like Bajet which is the shameless phonetic copy of the word ‘’budget’’. The word Bajet was previously used by my schoolmates to refer to the act of being stingy with your lunch or goodies or what ever you have on hand.

Eg:

- Weh, sikit roti kau

-Tak boleh.

-Ek eleh, bajet betul kau ni

I’d like to think perhaps one of them have risen high in the world, into the Parliament itself even, to have made the word bajet on the lips of every politicians every year. That would be something.

Anyway, I hope this blog to be the online reference point for my future self as long as the servers are up and running. So that if my memory fails me earlier than expected, it would be a repository of my practicing life. Perhaps my sons would come across it one day, cackling and hooting in laughter at my discoveries and my many attempts to impose order to chaos that is my life as a practitioner.

If my conclusions are wrong, correct me. If you find it useful, good for you. Mine is about the basic stuff. Nothing fancy or in depth as I find most blogs or stuff written by older and more experienced lawyers. Mine is about the kind of things (not strictly about legal practice) you would be afraid to ask your boss or bosses for fear of being seen as less manly or not as bright as previously thought of. If you think what I write about is shit, then it is on you who are reading this to write something better and far more interesting.

In a way this blog is that neck strap thing, but for my practice (mainly). There are after all limits to my (many) delusions.

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My Ideal Office

I have my own room  at the office where I am currently practicing at but it is more of a storage area. I’d have my books and files in the room, my desktop computer if I need to do my work. Most of the administrative related work would be done there but not actual legal work. Most of the time I did my thinking and drafting and non-admin work elsewhere out of the office. But if I am particularly tired and still need access to my books, I would lug the books that I need from my room to one of the meeting room where there are windows. I would open one just to listen to the hustle and bustle of the road next to my building while I work and to let the cigarette smoke out. Occasionally I would peer out of them to the City outside. Watch people go about their business while I try to coax my brains into thinking. Them old grey matter would take a bit of time to warm up. When I really need to think without any interruptions, I would do my work out of the office entirely.

 

Before the Boycott and pre Covid I would work out of a Starbucks at the Curve. Sit at a secluded table with a hot chocolate and just get down to work for hours. I could work out of PJ’s historic A&W, a random mamak, a neighbourhood surau, Palace of Justice’s library, the Bar room at court complexes. Whether hours long sessions or in snatches. Anywhere but the office so long it has roof and power socket. I feel boxed in both physically and mentally at the office. I would be like a horse chomping at the bits. Restless for wide open space for me to stretch my legs. The ambient noise of an office is too distracting for me. The hum of the air conditioning,  phones ringing, the sound a photocopier, the clackety clack of the lawyer next door typing furiously on the keyboard, footsteps of people going to and fro outside my room. Too loud. Too distracting. 

 

Right now there are renovations going on in the unit above me beginning sometime before 5pm (sometimes earlier) until 10pm. With all the drilling and hammering of God knows what upstairs it is impossible to concentrate let alone hold a thought. I told myself at least I know it is actual proper human being making the noise and not some supernatural entity moving furniture around or pounding something in their mortar and pestle (probably the makings of some otherworldly sambal belacan).

 

For me there must be a right balance between ambient noise and silence to allow me to be productive with my work. Too silent and it is an invitation to nap. Too loud and it is a major distraction. I find that of all the places I have worked out of eateries would have the balance of noise and silence just right. Hence my preference for them.

What about professionalism you ask? What about it?  So long as I produce cause papers to be filed in court, could appear in court properly attired and prepared for my case why does it matter where I do my work? Most of lawyer’s work are done behind the scenes anyway. Away from the eyes of the clients. The oral submissions and trials are the only ones that the client would really see.  Besides, when I work outside of the office I don’t have a plaque on the table saying: Lawyer at work do not disturb. I don’t lug the whole case file around, I don’t have to. Everything is online. I want to do my work not make a Tik-Tok video out of it. All an observer would see would be me typing away on my laptop or staring into nothing ruminating on something. I would be one of many people typing something up on their laptops. Besides, if I am thirsty or particularly peckish the ane is but one wave away or the drinks counter would not be too far away. If confidentiality is a concern, I work at a cubicle or table that gives me optimum privacy or in a corner with my back to the wall and use my own internet connection. That ought to be enough to safeguard confidentiality.

 

When situation calls for it, usually when I am co-counseling for a friend, I would do my work at their office. A few years ago I was like doctors making house calls. I would rotate between two to three offices, all my friends who are in constant need of a counsel. Most of the time their offices would be a smoker friendly premise where one could and would light up at will. Just like the olden days I suppose. When hungry we ate. Take outs or at the restaurant nearby. When tired we would take a break. Breaks would consist of throwing ideas in between small talks while cigarette smoke would hang above and around us like thought bubbles. No such thing as being stock still when I work with friends. I would walk around, peer at windows, stare at walls. All to get the juices flowing and fingers typing later on. But whether it is out of office or at friend’s the idea remains the same. Variety, not familiarity that aids my thinking process.

 

That is the usual set up for me. It works for me but not my dream working environment I have in mind.

 

The ideal office for me would have two important characteristics. It would need to have wheels and ought to be self-propelled. A touring bus is for rock artistes and football clubs, a car is too small. The ideal size would be an MPV or a cargo van converted into a mobile office. A Ford or a Maxus side panel van would be best. Man, a Maxus side panel van is just sexy. In my eyes at least. Inside would be my office. Doesn’t have to be a moving castle. Just enough for me to function as human being and legal practitioner. There would be a foldable work station flush against one side and chair also foldable when not in use, a bookshelf overhead for all my reference books within easy reach, stationery and stamps, an All-in-One printer and copier/scanner running on batteries (Canon or HP. With HP’s ink based buggery, I lean more towards Canon). Change of clothes, toiletries, an extra suit or two. Mini fridge if you are pushing it and most importantly, hooks. One behind the driver’s seat and another on either rear corner of the van or MPV for me to sling my hammock whenever I need to sleep or need to power down for a while.

 

With wheels this mobile office would have the freedom to roam the courts and allow me work at will. Kuantan today, Klang tomorrow. Roam the courts from Perlis to Johor. Maybe stop by a river or lake for a picnic or a quiet hour or two of fishing or of just plain enjoying the scenery. Inhale the clear out of town air. Go to rest area or petrol station for calls (the other kind) and stuff. Just keep driving and attending court whenever and wherever. That kind of thing.

 

It is not an original idea I admit, but I warmed up to the idea after having to travel here and there back when my MOB gig was still going on and I discovered that I enjoyed the long drives. There is something about being in between places that appeals to me. I probably had a Mongol ancestor way back. The need to be constantly on the move is in my blood. What I lack in horses I made up with horsepower. No horse blood for me, sirap ais will slake my thirst. No yurt for me, a hammock will do just fine. So long as I am on the move (that is, if I am not stuck in a traffic jam) I am free. Being on the road means freedom and I value freedom above all else.

 

Maybe I’ll put idea to practice once my boys are finally done with school and awaiting tertiary stage and get them to drive me around for a while. It’ll be a road trip for the boys.

 

That’s my idea of an ideal office.

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