Alternative Title: Head on Collision on Fat Ceiling.
Dear readers (that means you two): to better understand the underlying context and overall sentiment of this post, read this post first before proceeding.
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| What soon to be the death certificate for my aspiration in civil service, complete with number tag! Does give off vibe of Auschwitz, isn't it? |
The worst case scenario, the nightmare end which my gut feeling told me for a good while since I receive that email has indeed happened.
JPA & SPA with the help of Fit Malaysia fitness coach ninnies from Ministry of Youth and Sport has arbitrarily decided to erect a ceiling made of adipose tissues, BMI index, abdominal strength, stamina of running back and forth for cardio, grip strength and body suppleness degree (all of them under a thing call Ujian Kesihatan Jasmani Kebangsaan or UKJK. Yes, #TIL there is a national standard to measure fitness)...and the ceiling above me was impenetrable.
Fitness test in which its link to the whole Administrative and Diplomatic Cadet selection process is TENUOUS at best has become the flimsy reason to DISQUALIFY me from attending the rest of the Performance Assessment Centre i.e. the essay writing, public speaking and group discussion, the part where I can potentially shine and recoup lost ground. An opportunity denied on spurious ground and sudden policy change.
Apparently the lump of fatty white matter inside my skull, the myelin sheaths and nerve connection I spent my whole life nurturing is immediately rendered worthless when put side by side with my disgusting calorific lump of adipose tissue.
The immediate reaction, the only reaction I can give to them is one of absolute confusion, frustration and anger which translates into berating all of them right in their face, calling them out of unfair treatment of last years postponers ("Kita ikut dasar baru JPA tahun ini." is their only answer.) undergoing new shits this year (out of 66 postponers, only 25 pops up. Great success, JPA & SPA.) while ranting on about why I never do and hated sports (speaking of which, fuck you Mr. Bernard Phua of KHS. Hope you got stroke.) and how they just blew their chance of recouping the RM30k they gave me as scholarship.
The worst feeling that I had out of this needless drama, the one that almost made me breach the dam of tears is how the event essentially vindicated every single naysayers in my life that asks "go move a little, fatty" and "why the hell you postponed the admission when you passed last year, numbnuts? Why can't you finish your thesis faster?". I feel I have been made an idiot just by being myself. It made me question my very own existence and way of carrying my own life the way I want it to be from the point I have consciousness, me being the slightly asthmatic boy who prefer crawling above atlas learning names of odd places around world than running and stumbling about in the playground playing catch, the boy who always got sidelined (of both voluntary and involuntary kind) in any PE class due to being the odd numbered guy, the guy who leap through Wikipedia articles than ditch, the guy who wanders and meanders willy-nilly in five foot ways savouring sights and sounds of street with only a map, water bottle and umbrella instead of doing repetitive lifting and running in gymnasium and local park.
Apparently, the naysayers are right. No matter how much I enriched my worth of humanity by procuring knowledge and world view, a hideous sack of skin and fat will immediately negate it, rendering it invisible. This woefully demeaning, humiliating, insulting, depressing, dehumanizing exercise, the utterly meaningless, pointless, needless, useless hoop has drained me of whatever little self-worth and dignity I have towards myself, leaving me destitute of humanity and love to myself. I thought I've enough confidence to say that my body image is not an obstacle for me to achieve success and greater good but turns out the truth is actually the contrary. It bloody hurts to experience a glass or rather, FAT ceiling in career path that shouldn't been so, the pencil pushers. The fitness coach actually had the cheek to say that "it should be taken as motivation to overcome one's limit like how I gave you the chance during the sit up"? How about I shove your PARK-Q/KBS evaluation report together with your timer right up to your "jantung emas" (Heart of Gold? Not a Douglas Adam reference in this case) where the sun don't shine then. Denying me opportunity to present my level of education and intellect in advancing my own career aspiration will help me to examine myself and shed a few kilos? How about you keel off and die in ditch while ninnying about in Putrajaya Lake Garden trail, FUCK.
The conclusion? JPA & SPA would only care about creating bunch of identikit, gormless, faceless goons with undivided loyalty towards the power that be. They have no time for fatty sack one call body that isn't "Civil Service/Pegawai Tadbir dan Diplomatik Ready".
To wrap up this rant, here's an appropriate accompanying soundtrack while you enjoy the following photos.
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| Fuck you very very much, Jabatan Perkhidmatan Awam. |
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| Fuck you very very much too, Suruhajaya Perkhidmatan Awam. |
Postscript: Meanwhile, fingers' still crossed for the editor position I applied as they are still marking the translation and editing examinations we took. That's one place that will truly appreciate the skill set, aptitude and knowledge I amassed.
