Interview #2: KYS Chartered Accountancy Programme

 The other day, I received a phone call from the Saad Foundation College/ KYS, or rather, my father did. Over the static noise, I managed to catch that they were offering me a chance to go for Chartered Accountancy Programme in New Zealand. I also got to know that my school sent me a list of hopeful candidates to them, which answered my question; HOW DID THEY GET MY NAME?

 So off I went to the Boulevard Office two days ago, with a bag in one hand and a blazer in the other. A few minutes earlier, on the road, a thought crossed my already occupied mind; since they received a list from the school, wouldn’t there bound to be other schoolmates of mine already waiting there? I seriously could not back out from this now. Going in the lift. I suppose there would just be 3 or 4 familiar faces. Stepped out on the 3^rd floor and the first thing I noticed? Two rows of familiar faces, staring at me. What a pleasant surprise. What was more surprising was the fact that in a room of 50, 60 candidates, only one were wearing a blazer. Guess who that was?

Answer: The idiot on the left.

The screen was this far. And that small. Would you believe that? D:

 After catching up with friends during the briefing (We were too far from the screen to pay attention to the video. And playing it twice does not make it more appealing. Which is what they did, BTW.), we headed to the food a level below. I had a laugh when my blurheaded mate Uzair accidentally brought the wrong result slip, before heading off to another building to prepare for the interview that awaited us. Well, some of us did, because I wanted to ask the people from the first session how it went, and I forced Uzair to tag along.

 The type of interview was a group interview; we were all separated into 5 groups of 2 – 5 people and 3 sessions, all lasting around 30 minutes. The interviewers would hand us a card, containing 6 questions, and we would have to unanimously pick one and discuss about it, before finally giving the interviewers a piece of our mind. Yeah, so when my turn arrived, only one other turned up, him and I making up A2. Now I know you might be going, ‘Hey, isn’t that advantageous for you? Less people, less competition.’ I have to agree, this situation would have been great... If he wasn’t as blur as Uzair.  

 I tried to engage in a conversation with him throughout the interview, but it seemed that his mind wasn’t completely there. It was hard to try to continue talking when your partner is only responding shortly. (BTW, Uzair and Haziq, if you happen to chance upon this, I don’t despise you two. Love you guys. As friends, of course.) After awkwardly choosing ‘What is the ideal age of dating?’ among the topics at hand, we uncomfortably discussed in front of the interviewers. It was over, at last, and I confirmed my earlier suspicions that one of them was a familiar person; we had met at a educational roadshow at Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre.

 And that was how my interview #2 went. It was better than the first one, because I didn’t fumble over my words as much, and the KYS interviewers were much more relaxed. :D I hope all future interviews would go on like this. But I’m pretty sure my wish wouldn’t come true.

Pictures of Moments~:

 

I, the Unintentional Bully

 Recently, I found something lodged in between the pages of a book that really took me back. It was a handwritten letter from a friend, requesting me to hear out his apology, and asking me to wear appropriately before meeting him at the tuition centre. Seeing the three-year-old letter really brought me down memory lane, despite wanting to steer away from this part of my life. I need to store it in the deepest part of my mind, only opening the memories once more when I want to paint myself as an awkward kid/preteen bully in the eyes of my kids, and their kids, which would be unlikely.

It was suffice just to come to me and talk face-to-face, rather than waste a half paper to write a really short and somewhat incomprehensible memo. But I have to admit, it was pretty nice of him to go this far. :)

 “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???” I hear questioning screams from the other side of the screen.

 Yes, I have to admit. I was a bully. More like ‘accused as a bully’, but never mind. It might be shocking for those who know me.  Frankly, I was quite as surprised as you are, when my friends started to label me that a few years back. They don’t call me that for no reason, that, I realise now.

 There’s a long story behind the then-absurd claims. There was this one peer of mine, who was rather slow compared to other kids, the same one who wrote to me the aforementioned letter. To make the story less confusing, I shall name him W. Hence, being the simpleminded teen I was, I played around with the guy. I remembered clearly how a friend and I (Yeah, it wasn’t only me.), came up with a ruse.  W always carried his water bottle with him, so whenever he left it on the rack to enter the library, we would always relocate it to another spot on the rack, usually hidden from sight.  When he freaked out and reported to the teacher, we would put on our innocent masks and offered to help. And that was only a small segment in a long list of misdeeds done to him.

 You could see how cautious and scared he was of me; he’d run away from me when we coincidentally met on the way to the loo during exam week, and his homeroom teacher, to whom he put his trust on, gave me a suspicious glare whenever I pass by. Heck, there was even that one time when I watched TV with him (It’s a rare occasion.) Some mischievous guy spooked him from behind, and guess which name he screamed out in anger?

 The biggest blow occurred on a day which started off quite normally. The library was a common interest between W and I; I found peace and solitude within a room surrounded by a rowdy atmosphere, while he expressed curiosity towards the TV that sat at the corner of the library. On that day, he pestered a few people, cornering them into a room, holding the door to keep him from opening it. And I, annoyed by the disruption of peace, plus the sudden ‘hero complex’ idea that sparked in my foolish mind, proceeded to kick him out. Struggled to, to be precise. W was constantly screaming and shouting at me throughout the whole ordeal, which turned every pair of eyes at the both of us. Ever since then, people have been calling me a bully from time to time.

 This particular accident compelled him to write the above letter, describing how sorry he was for ‘bullying’ me in front of the others. The nerve.  Anyway, you could imagine by now how terrible I was towards W. Even I feel ashamed at the amount of grief he endured from me.

 In my defense,  I was merely teasing him. But I suppose that was how other bullies would say. I have somewhat learnt from that period of time; cover up my tracks if I were to ever commit a crime again. That, and to think about how others feel before I act.

 Oh, if you're wondering what the letter up there says, and you just couldn't squint enough to have a read, don't fret. Here is the content of the letter. :D :

Dear Asroff,

 I knew I'm sorry that I'd bullied you for a while in the library. As you know what bullying is the pengawas (prefect) will write my name to the list.

 I'm sure that I'm in a bad mood for a bit. While you're at the dewan tertutup (closed hall) I think you will get revenge to me. Please don't call somebody about me.

 Go to the tuition center by today. Wear formal clothing when you have Malay and Science class. Be there when I came to the tuition by car. I need to apologise to you.

 Please accept my apologies. Thank you.

Two things to know:
1) He spelled my name wrong; and
2) If you think that there are a few grammatical errors there, it's not my fault. I typed it word by word.