I wanted a little more pressure applied to the soles of my feet. I deliberated. I contemplated. I then asked my masseuse to up the pressure from medium to a little hard.

I was hesitant, yes. But only because I didn’t know where the sweet spot was. The fine balance between medium and a little hard. On that day, at that point, the earlier requested medium pressure wasn’t working for me. But a little hard could go either way. Not as hard as I would like or too hard that would make me wince.

The foot reflexology session not only undid a lot of knots, it helped me walk away feeling mentally and physically more relaxed. These days, I politely ask, remind, and draw attention to whomever about whatever things and/or situations that don’t seem right or bother me. I’ve made requests for variations in massage pressures before. However, the last session regurgitated memories of when I’ve spoken up and when I haven’t. From the inconsequential to the fairly important. Both on a professional and personal level.

The inconsequential are situations that I can live with but choose not to only because they niggle at me, after the fact. They are mainly encounters with front-end staff in retail, service providers and hospitals/clinics. Malaysians, me included, are quite a friendly lot. Honestly, we are. But place us, for instance, behind the check-out counters at grocery stores, and the mute button gets switched on. No talking. No greeting. No acknowledgment. Not a word is exchanged. Items billed. Payment made. Out you go. I’ve on several occasions asked if they’ve lost their voice. I know it sounds rude. Even that doesn’t elicit a response. Thankfully, there are a few talking/friendlier cashiers. Rare finds.

As for the fairly important occasions, there are two that remain etched in my mind. They haven’t dictated how my life has turned out. Hmm… not wholly true as I don’t know for sure. They might have. Remember the movies, ‘Sliding Doors’ and ‘Look Both Ways.’ At university, I was offered Anthropology and Sociology as my course. My preferred choice was Mass Communications. I wanted to be a journalist, and learn how to write for different media. Also, I’ve always enjoyed English, reading and writing.

Retrospectively, I know I should have made more effort. Requested an appointment with the department head. Made verbal and written appeals. Demonstrated how earnest I was, and that I could write. I didn’t do any of it. I lamely accepted the decision that there were no more places left. And, capitulated when I was told to pursue the course I was already offered. The truth is, back then, I didn’t know what I should have done. I didn’t have the confidence and/or exposure to deal with such a situation. Excuse or reason, the small-town girl from Alor Setar, didn’t speak up nor was she resourceful enough. And to think that in school she – ‘moi’ was a prefect, took park in multiple sports events and was the captain of the Yellow House, President of the English and Debating Society, and performed in a play. Sigh.

Anyways, after university and after trying and failing dismally at selling sewing machines to people who didn’t want nor could afford them in Alor Setar, I came down to Kuala Lumpur to work in newspaper advertising. That was in the mid-1980’s when the local economy was in recession, and  jobs were fairly scarce. Advertising/marketing wasn’t my first choice. I wanted to join the editorial department but there were no vacancies then. Deja vu. What to do? I decided with training, I’d learn the ropes. And, learn I did.

The job wasn’t commissioned-based. It wasn’t about the salary, which wasn’t much. It was the opportunity to work/liaise with leading account and creative directors, who dealt with the latest product and service launches. Six months on, a newbie joined and she was assigned to one of the more sought-after areas/sections in the city that housed many advertising agencies and large companies. My area/section, meanwhile, was populated with smaller companies and a dearth of advertising agencies. It was a literal dessert. Seriously, I thought that was the challenge that was thrown at you. And, you worked your way up. Not so, obviously. What irks even now is I didn’t open my mouth and ask my boss why, and what was the point/relevance of my seniority. The newbie left to join an advertising agency after a year or so.

As for me, I got off my behind, finally, and approached the newspaper’s supplements editor and asked if I could write for his desk while I worked in advertising. I started by writing advertorials for paying advertisers. The rest… well…

My mantra. Ask, question, speak up. Sometimes, you get the result you want. Sometimes, you don’t. At least, you know you tried. No niggles.