At my former office there is a cleaning
auntie, mid 60s, bony and frail, who is seen everyday in the office doing her
stuff – tidy the pantry and sink area, sweeps and clears the trash. Once, I
asked if she could wipe my desk (as it was terribly dusty) and she agreed with
a smile. Every now and then, if I’m in my office (I’m half the time at the
other depots), she’d knock on my door and offer to wipe my desk. As part of her
job scope, she mops the whole office floor too. Seeing that she’s of not too
young an age, I’d politely ask her to skip my office; also due to my room has a
light utilization rate. During lunch time, she heats up her packed food using
the pantry microwave. Other than the above activities, there is minimal
interaction between me and the cleaning auntie.
Yesterday I was on leave and sent the car
for servicing. I popped by the office and caught up with my former colleagues.
Standing in the pantry perched over the table top was the cleaning auntie,
diligently cleaning the sink. I greeted her, “Hello auntie.”
Her first response was a quick glance and a
slight smile. Then she turned back and I saw her eyes light up with surprise.
She asked, Sir you come back already? And this prompted a conversation which
lasted around 15 minutes.
So she shared that she had noticed I wasn’t
around anymore and when she asked, my former colleagues mentioned I had moved
on to a better job. Haha. After some casual chatting, I asked what she was
formerly working as.
Cleaning auntie said, “Mai yi” at Kovan market.
I initially thought she sold clothes at the market but as the conversation went
on, I realised that she meant ‘mai yu’, or sold fish. Cleaning auntie is
conversant only in Mandarin and apparently isn’t proficient in her
pronunciation. She helped a stall owner to descale, clean and sell fish. Her
working hours are from 4am to about 2-3pm, and she is paid $70 a day. You can
see from her gestures that she liked doing this; she also shared that many
customers recognise her even today and ask what she’s up to. From her stories, I
also gained some ‘fishy’ knowledge from her:
a)
She gets the fresh fishes from
Senoko
b)
If you have a fish stall, you
shouldn’t buy the same fishes to be sold everyday. Simply because the customers
who buy fish today wouldn’t buy the same fish from you tomorrow. Makes sense.
We wouldn’t have thought of that, would we?
c)
Some fish are not advisable to
be ingested by moms who just gave birth e.g. Batang, Seila
After one year plus, the stall owner had a
major injury and couldn’t continue business operation. It was sub-let to
another fish owner but apparently resorted to unscrupulous means to sell off
not-so-fresh fish. Cleaning auntie felt that this practice was against her
conscience and quitted.
Here she is standing today, a mid-60s
elderly in a bright yellow uniform, toiling and scrubbing toilets, clearing
rubbish bags, doing the unsightly dirty job that most locals shun. It didn’t
seem to her that she minded – she mentioned a few times that as a housewife of
many years it’s her second nature to do this job well. This was in fact also
evident in her working attitude that I’ve observed when I was working there.
However, as much as cleaning auntie put in
her best effort at work, she complained that the pay does not justify the long
hours. Her boss had compromised by giving her Saturday off but it only meant
there was more work to clear on Monday. After one and a half years, her pay is
stagnant at $1k and how meaningful a Lunar New Year angbao would have been, cleaning
auntie sighed.
From our 15 minute conversation, I think it
was sufficient to conclude that cleaning auntie is a diligent worker but is
obviously too old to be doing this job that is also under-paid. I asked for her
name – Anna. I also got her phone number and told her I’ll pass a contact of
another cleaning company who could possibly pay more with her experience. I figured that’s the best I could do. But I
hope she’ll find another vacancy at a fish stall – she seems to love the daily
interaction and befriending of customers more.
