“It’s okay. I don’t want to set the benchmark too high for him,” Gimme Lao winked. “I guess it will be lunch alone for me then.”
Gimme Lao did not enjoy dining out by himself. He gave his secretary permission to arrange work lunches and dinners throughout the week. On the rare occasion that a slot was unfilled, he had difficulty thinking of anyone to invite. He had a long list of professional contacts, but an exceedingly short list of friends. The dire situation only became apparent after his divorce. He had not made any effort to keep in touch with his old friends.
Gimme Lao was almost happy when he received a text message from his secretary midway through his bowl of Katong laksa.
“Committee briefing over? Reporters waiting.”
“Why reporters?”Gimme Lao texted, alarmed.
“Come in back door. Will brief you.” His secretary cautioned.
Gimme Lao knew there was major trouble the moment he spotted his secretary. She suffered from hyperhidrosis and perspired profusely when she was tense. Right now, there were two damp patches on her blouse conspicuously radiating from her armpits.
“Do you remember how you replied to one of the questions during the media conference two days ago? The one about ministerial salaries?”
“Well, I remember the man who challenged me about ministerial salaries was very sarcastic,” Gimme Lao frowned as he recalled. “He claimed that our cabinet ministers were greedy public servants who gave themselves million-dollar salaries. He said that the reason why Singapore government has a near zero corruption record is that we factor the corruption into our official wages.”
“Him being sarcastic is beside the point,” his secretary said. “How did you reply?”
“I quoted the example of Dr Liew’s appointment as the Minister of Information and the Arts. If his salary was merely half a million, how is he going to stand tall and discuss policy formulation and implementation with media CEOs who earn millions of dollars themselves? They won’t pay him any attention. He needs to have equivalent pay to maintain his dignity on the negotiation table.”
As Gimme Lao heard himself explain, a chill ran down his spine. It suddenly dawned on him that he might have made the biggest blunder of his political career.
“Social media had a field day yesterday attacking your statement. I have bookmarked some of them,” his secretary remarked as she jiggled the mouse and brought the screen to life.
Gimme Lao slumped into his swivel chair and browsed through the bookmarked sites with dread. The Online Citizen claimed that henceforth if a police officer stopped you on the street, ask the officer for his pay slip. If he earned less than you, you had the right to ignore him. The Real Singapore came up with a bar chart to compare the salary package of political leaders all over the world. The article highlighted the glaring fact that even if the prime minister of Singapore took a 70 per cent pay cut, he would still take home more money than anyone else, the president of the United States and the German chancellor included. New Nation featured a GIF where Gimme Lao’s head was transplanted onto an inflatable figure that kept ballooning as a moving queue of stick figures continously fed him money. Superimposed on the image was the text ‘Gimme Now! Gimme Now!’.
“Are you all right?” his secretary suddenly asked, alarmed.
Gimme Lao was not feeling all right. The tight squeeze in his chest had returned, and a sharp pain was shooting up his arm. “I think I might be having a heart attack. Call an ambulance, quickly.”
After his secretary made the call, Gimme Lao gave her instructions to push him to the lift lobby on his swivel chair. Meeting the paramedics at the main entrance would save valuable time. In his panic, he had forgotten that there were reporters camping at the lobby waiting to ambush him. Almost immediately, they crowded around him, pushing the recording devices in his face and bombarding him with questions.
“Please make way! Dr Gimme Lao is having a heart attack!” His secretary screamed as she tried to bulldoze her way through.
When the reporters realised that Gimme Lao was indeed perspiring profusely and looking unusually pale, they quickly whipped out their cameras and mobile phones and went to work. The entourage shadowed him all the way down to the main lobby and filmed the paramedics loading him onto the ambulance. Thereafter, it was a wild race to their vehicles and a mad dash to the nearest hospital. The Accident and Emergency Department staff was shocked to see the contingent of reporters barging into the room and asking for Gimme Lao. The security team had to be brought in to chase the intruders out of the restricted area.
Gimme Lao was curtained off in one corner of the Accident and Emergency Department. There was only an intern on hand, who apologised and explained that the doctors had carpooled for lunch earlier and had met with a bad accident; they were receiving treatment themselves even as he spoke. Gimme Lao assured the intern that the worst spell had passed and he could wait a little. He then turned to his secretary to dictate instructions. She was to notify both his ex-wife and his mother first, followed by Dr Liew Kim Keong and Professor Eleanor Moh. After that, she was to buy drinks and buns from the cafeteria and distribute them to the reporters. Inform them that Gimme Lao’s condition appeared to be stabilised. Advise them against reporting the incident.
After the intern and his secretary left, Gimme Lao shut his eyes to ponder the situation. Now he understood the reason Dr Liew Kim Keong was dropping him in favour of Sharon Shi. How stupid could he be? To quote Dr Liew as an example was to shine the spotlight on him, something he would not appreciate. During the media conference, Gimme Lao had been irked by the sarcasm of the man who challenged him. He was focused on winning the argument. In his haste, Gimme Lao had made an unwise analogy and portrayed himself as the greedy politician the people would love to hate. Nothing short of a public apology could save him now.
As Gimme Lao pondered, he became aware that a documentary was being aired on the television screen hanging over the bed. The camera followed a local woman as she brought the crew on a tour of her flat. Like 80 per cent of the Singapore population, she was housed in a public housing unit built by the Housing Development Board. She and her husband shared a room, while her elderly mother and her teenage daughter shared another. She remarked that she wished her daughter could have a room to herself, but the family could not afford to upgrade to a bigger flat. Property prices had skyrocketed the last two decades and were out of reach for single-income families like hers.
The interviewer interrupted and asked if the woman’s family had not benefitted from the astronomical rise in their asset value as homeowners. Was it not true that the Singapore government’s asset enhancement program was one of the most successful public housing programs in the world? The woman grinned sheepishly and said yes, she was very grateful to the Singapore government.
The interviewer continued to prompt and ask what else made her proud to be a Singaporean. The woman stammered. It was painfully obvious to Gimme Lao that not only was the woman ineloquent; she was very uncomfortable in front of the camera. Whatever the theme of the documentary was, the producer could not have picked a less suitable interviewee.
The interviewer had to practically spoon-feed the woman. Was she not grateful living in a city with one of the lowest crime rates in the world? Her teenage daughter could come home in the dead of the night and she need not worry about her safety. Did she not agree that the extensive public transport system in Singapore made life easy for families like hers who did not own a car? In comparison, the traffic conditions in neighbouring countries were horrendous. Did she not feel lucky that the meritocratic system in practice meant that her daughter had as much opportunity as the next teenager to rise up in life? She did not have to know the right people to get her child into the best schools.
Gimme Lao cringed as he watched the woman nod and agree unfailingly to everything the interviewer suggested. This was a terrible interview! Why on earth would the producer pick such an unintelligent woman who held no opinion or view of her own as th
e subject? Who was she? Gimme Lao struggled to sit upright for a better view, but the caption on the screen was too tiny. He flipped himself onto all fours, crawled to the edge of the bed and knelt on his knees. Only then was he close enough to read the caption.
The woman’s name was Giam Mei Mei. Gimme Lao vaguely remembered there had been a mousy little girl called Mei Mei back in kindergarten. The girl was taciturn and non-participatory in class. More than once she had embarrassed herself by wetting her panties when she became nervous. This timid and nondescript woman on television could well be the grown up version of the girl back in kindergarten. But the question remained. What was the documentary about and why did the producer pick Madam Giam Mei Mei?
The mystery was solved when the documentary came to an end. The interviewer explained that it was his pleasure to interview the first baby born in independent Singapore. Madam Giam Mei Mei was born six minutes past midnight on 9 August 1965. She grew up a beneficiary of the Singapore system and enjoyed a safe and stable life that many people in other nations would envy. She was rightfully proud to be the nation’s firstborn.
Gimme Lao could hardly believe his ears. This was the woman who stole his queue number! Gimme Lao knew unequivocally that he was born seven minutes past midnight on the day Singapore became independent. He knew because Grandma Toh, who used to babysit him, often betted on the number 6507. Twice the winning number turned out to be 6501. Grandma Toh cursed and said Gimme Lao was too stingy to bless her with a windfall.
The irony did not escape Gimme Lao that he himself was a thousand times more qualified than Giam Mei Mei to be showcased as the nation’s firstborn. All-round excellence in his academic record. A national hero during the SARS crisis. Voted into public office by voters who trusted him. Given enough time, he could well make cabinet minister.
Gimme Lao cried out when a sharp pain suddenly tore through his chest. Bending over with the excruciating affliction, he swung his arms wildly as the bed skidded and sent him crashing onto the floor. Just before his head hit the ceramic tiles and he was knocked out cold, an irrelevant thought crossed his mind.
He would have made a wonderful poster child for the nation.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to express my gratitude to the team at Epigram Books who made this novel possible, especially to Lan who was a most agreeable editor to work with.
I would like to thank Dr Lens Lee and Hui Chee Hong for allowing me to pick their brains.
The play in chapter five was inspired by Porcelain, written by Chay Yew in the early 90s. I am proud of his impressive achievements as a Singaporean playwright.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sebastian Sim grew up in a two-room HDB flat with parents who were part of the pioneer generation of independent Singapore. Not one to shy away from the road less taken, he has tried his hand in different industries and travelled around the world to soak up different experiences and cultures. He was variously a bartender at Boat Quay, an assistant outlet manager at McDonald’s, an insurance salesman, a prison officer in a maximum security prison and a croupier in a casino. Let’s Give It Up for Gimme Lao! is Sebastian’s first English novel.
Also by Sebastian Sim: (writing as )
The Epigram Books Fiction Prize promotes contemporary Singapore creative writing and rewards excellence in Singapore literature. The richest literary prize in Singapore is awarded to the Singaporean, permanent resident or Singapore-born author for the best manuscript of a full-length, original and unpublished novel written in the English language.
The closing date for submission to this year’s prize is 1 September 2016. The winner will be announced in December and have his or her novel published by Epigram Books.
For more information, please visit EBFP.EPIGRAMBOOKS.SG
ALSO FROM THE EPIGRAM BOOKS FICTION PRIZE
WINNER
Now That It’s Over by O Thiam Chin
FINALISTS
Death of a Perm Sec by Wong Souk Yee
Sugarbread by Balli Kaur Jaswal
LONGLISTED
Annabelle by Imran Hashim
Kappa Quartet by Daryl Qilin Yam
Altered Straits by Kevin Wong
NOW THAT IT’S OVER BY O THIAM CHIN
During the Christmas holidays in 2004, an earthquake in the Indian Ocean triggers a tsunami that devastates fourteen countries. Two couples from Singapore are vacationing in Phuket when the tsunami strikes. Alternating between the aftermath of the catastrophe and past events that led these characters to that fateful moment, Now That It’s Over weaves a tapestry of causality and regret, and chronicles the physical and emotional wreckage wrought by natural and manmade disasters.
FORMAT:
Paperback, 272 pages, 152x225mm
ISBN:
978-981-4757-28-7
PRICE:
SGD $24.90
AVAILABLE ONLINE AT:
www.epigrambooks.sg
DEATH OF A PERM SEC BY WONG SOUK YEE
In 1980s Singapore, a top civil servant is found dead. It appears to be suicide, by a cocktail of morphine, alcohol and Valium. But upon investigation by a CID inspector, who might not be what he seems, the family discovers there may be far more sinister circumstances behind his death, reaching the uppermost echelons of government. Death of a Perm Sec exposes the dark heart of power politics, from the country’s tumultuous post-independence days to the socio-political landscape of the 1980s.
FORMAT:
Paperback, 284 pages, 152x225mm
ISBN:
978-981-4757-34-8
PRICE:
SGD $24.90
AVAILABLE ONLINE AT:
www.epigrambooks.sg
SUGARBREAD BY BALLI KAUR JASWAL
Pin must not become like her mother, but nobody will tell her why. She seeks clues in Ma’s cooking when she’s not fighting other battles—being a bursary girl at an elite school and facing racial taunts from the bus uncle. Then her meddlesome grandmother moves in, installing a portrait of a watchful Sikh guru and a new set of house rules. Old secrets begin to surface but can Pin handle learning the truth?
FORMAT:
Paperback, 276 pages, 152x225mm
ISBN:
978-981-4757-30-0
PRICE:
SGD $24.90
AVAILABLE ONLINE AT:
www.epigrambooks.sg
Let's Give It Up for Gimme Lao! Page 27
