Ali, are you okay? (Nov 2009)

Subliminally annoying
Ali Imran K. says that there is nothing worse than a hidden insult

The advent of Jil Sander’s collaboration with Japanese clothing manufacturer, Uniqlo was an eagerly anticipated event. It was a mystery to all but the brand on when the collection would be out, for no amount of beleaguering would provide you with an exact date. I only came to know of this, on my recent trip to Singapore as that’s where the closest Uniqlo store is, in relation to KL. I was indifferent to the idea and was much more surprised that there was not a single Krispy Kreme in town! but thought, since I’m in the city, IF I happen to chance by it, it wouldn’t hurt to add a solitary Jil Sander piece into my collection.

That night, at a press conference, I came across an old Singaporean compadre who I recall feigning fatigue the last time we met, just to escape his obnoxious, bitter rants. It was too late to jump behind a potted plant so I bit my tongue in preparation for the charade that was about to unfold. Surprisingly, the conversation was bearable, almost pleasant even, until I brought up the whole Jil Sander topic. “Oh, they’ve called me in advance so that I can reserve what I want even before it hits the shops” he said. I could have smiled and said nothing else but killing a conversation would be highly impolite and besides, I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to deliver a zinger of a riposte. My error, unfortunately, was to ask him “How did that happen?” to which the answer was short and sweet but stung like salt on a gaping wound. “Media” he said, followed by a smug smile and a raucous scene about how sorry he felt for me because there were no Uniqlos in KL. I am very well equipped to handle blatant insults but it’s the inconspicuous variety that gets my bloomers in a twist-condescending and falsely amiable. What a pretentious prick! I grinned and excused myself to get another drink.

Later that night, I wondered why I got so upset over “ant droppings”. I questioned his motive when he said “media” for was he not in conversation with a fellow “media”? It’s one thing to show off with a person who has little knowledge of your occupation, but rubbing it in with somebody of your own kind, makes you a little bit conceited. I knew he was fond of blowing smoke up his own behind so that really didn’t take me by surprise.

The longer I thought about it, the more I realized that he was evil incarnate, spawned from the pits of deceit and envy, whose sole purpose is to make my life miserable. In other words, he has somehow discovered a way of hurling abuse at me but, disguising it in fluff and Tinkerbell glitter, so that he may trot away, knowing that he had bruised a little bit of my ego. That, in my opinion, is the harshest form of insolence you could bequeath to a man. It’s like you want to react, but you can’t, you should, but then again, why should you? Like you want to do something about it, but you can’t, really. That kills me! It’s on repeat in my head and I keep on imagining the things I would have done or said differently.

Something a little bit more intelligent, perhaps, something that would have shut him up in his place. If all else fails, a kick in the shin, maybe? But I caught his game a little too late, clouded by my own raging emotions and I let him get away with it, scot free. If there is anything that my mother has taught me all these years in raising a hard headed bull of a son, is that sometimes it’s best to just plead ignorance. I don’t see how I had a choice in the matter, as unless I could reverse time, there was no way I was going to get another chance at engaging in a verbal duel with him. So forget I tried, but forget I did not.

Singapore isn’t that big of a country much less a city, but out of all the watering holes on the whole island, I had to bump into him again the following night. My modus operandi was that of nonchalance and whilst I was trying to not catch his eye by staring at my drink, apparently, he caught mine.  I stared at his mouth trying to make sense of the diarrhea that was pouring out when a certain topic of conversation got my attention. It turns out that Uniqlo made a serious error in offering him their reservation services as it was intended for someone else. “Aww, shame” I said, but inside, I was positively beaming. It’s a terrible thing to be even the slightest bit elated by someone else’s misfortunes, but in this case, I couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit appeased. It’s not my style to disclose how vainglorious I felt at that moment, so in an effort to elude him to think that we were on the same team, I offered to buy him a drink- I’m not completely heartless but touche, my dear friend, tou-che.