Over the course of one month, my trip so far with the current company is a blessing in disguise. Suffice to say I am enjoying my time being in the corporate world despite having to travel 40km to work every day.
It’s a norm to roam floor to floor, introducing myself as a new addition to the company. Nothing much, just wanted to understand the organization as a whole before I lube my gears.
“You’re new here!” a lady who passed by said.
“Yes I am.” I replied quickly, I didn’t want to hold the lift any longer.
“What is your name?”, she asked
“Edwin”, short and simple, I replied, trying hard to end the conversation.
She stopped and looked at me from head to toe, as if something was wrong with my attire. With a finger pointed at me she asked, “Are you a muslim?”
“Yes, Melayu lagi“, I smirked generously.
I always get this question often. I used to be offended, but not anymore. I guess I am comfortable tossing my real name around.
“Sabah or Sarawak?”, with a confused face she asked and still pointing at me.
“Nope, born and raised in KL”. And there goes my ride to 11th floor.
“Owh. What a modern name!” she looked like she digested the info.
“Yup. In case you’re wondering, saya orang Jawa“, I added.
“That explains it! See ya around Edwin 😉 ”
The FAQ remains the same, am I a muslim/malay and either I’m a Sabahan or Sarawakian no matter where I go. That includes meeting clients. What to do, I guess my dad was way beyond his when he thought about my name. It’s late, so I’ll tell you how I got my name in my next post.