Nah it's not about the book. Although I have actually long wanted to read this classic, but have never really found the time (nor patience) to do so. Or it might also be due to my lack of literary capacity and threshold, probably. Anyway, this post is pretty upfront. It's about pride, and prejudice. Simple as that.
I went for my dental appointment last week. Interestingly, this was one of my more "unexpected" dental appointments so far. When I was getting my teeth done, I overheard the dentist talking to her assistant. Okae, I didn't overhear. They were actually talking to each other as they did my teeth. But the dentist said weird stuff like "Ask her don't stir shit" and "Do you think I should be angry?" that I couldn't help but wonder what this was all about. "No, she didn't sit together with us during lunch just now. I think she was late doing some of her stuff." Could it be office politics? This possibility immediately popped into my mind but I couldn't be too bothered by it since I was only there for a very short session. But seriously, even dentists practice office politics? o.O Btw they did all these with my mouth open wide and I was left there trying damn hard to keep it open. Even I'm impressed how long I could actually do that.
As I left the clinic to take a bus home, there was this man, in his fifties I suppose, who approached me at the bus stop. He asked me if I knew how much the bus fare was for taking a bus to the bus interchange. He explained that there were rates printed on the boards at the back but they were too confusing for him to comprehend. So being a good soldier (yes, I was in uniform. bloody hell I had to go for my appointment in uniform because I left the office late for some stuff), I was quick to assist to explain how the fare system works. When I was done explaining, he added, "So you're from 2PDF, young man?". I was pleasantly surprised. I told him yes and he continued reminiscing about how he was a soldier from 2PDF back when it was still at Beach Road.
"So what's the vocation?" he asked.
I paused for a moment. "I'm an Admin Support Assistant."
Having said that, I was quick to add on, "I suffered some injury in BMT," and went on to explain what my condition was. And then the bus came and we ended our conversation and I boarded before him and moved to the back of the bus as he started looking for change for the ride.
As the bus took off, I started pondering over our conversation. Why did I hesitate to say I am an ASA? Did I have to tell him I was injured in BMT? And then it dawned on me - no matter how much I thought "Hey, my injury is legitimate," or "No, it's not chao keng. I really am suffering from vertebra stress fracture", deep down under, behind this pathetic facade and defensive castle walls I have built up to defend my PES status, I am ashamed. I am ashamed that I'm an ASA. I am ashamed that while the rest of my peers are doing combat training, I am typing away in an office. I am ashamed that I could go home everyday while my peers were only allowed to do so on weekends. I am afraid, to be honest, what others might think of me and what they would say of me.
It is, ultimately, a matter of pride. I have my pride, and I am so afraid that my condition leads to the destruction of it. I can't possibly say proudly "I am an ASA because I injured myself during BMT". Why would anyone say that? Did you not want to go to command school when asked in BMT? Or did you think you would be better off being a man on the ground, or even better, a clerk?
I am also amazed at how quickly prejudices can be formed. Down PES = chao keng. How convenient. At least that's what I think. No matter what the prejudice (even if it's my own), it seems to steer to a negative angle. And that's the beauty of the word. It has a negative connotation to it such that literally, nothing good comes out of it. The reputation of office soldiers (or air-con soldiers whichever you prefer or think is more derogatory) have been thoroughly soiled by undetermined and lazy misfits who think that leading an 8-to-5 life is what Army should be all about, so much so that genuine disabilities for combat vocations have become dubious or have been deemed, naturally, as possible exploitations to make oneself more comfortable in this span of 2 years. Don't try to pretend that you don't think the same way that I do. The prejudice is etched too deeply into the minds of all of us that there's no escaping it. You wouldn't admit it though, because it would be extremely rude to tell someone in the face that they CMI. Instead, you would say politically that "You should take care. Your ailment sounds pretty serious."
Back to when I was conversing with the stranger at the bus stop, I remember he asked as well - "So, at this time, you're going back to camp?". I could only wallow in shame as I sparked the prejudice in him.
"No, I'm heading home."
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