What ‘We’ Lost After COVID-19

Kamal, a man who looked like he was blessed with all the luxury the world had to offer him, couldn’t remember his job as a CEO being this hard — and it wasn’t only because he was missing his London vacation.

Today, he learned that his favourite senior manager had requested for a paternity leave, and he needed to approve because such a ludicrous thing was now a policy. 30 days of leave, just to take care of a baby?!

It was bad enough there were fewer people at the office nowadays. Most of his employees had chosen to work from home.

Ten years ago, this would’ve been unheard of. He blamed it all on COVID-19.

He was about to leave the office when a WhatsApp message came in.

‘Meeting @ The Heaven, 9pm.’

Finally, some solace.

The Heaven was a mansion owned by Salleh Hashim, a retired businessman who reluctantly let his two sons run his companies.

Only selected friends were invited to The Heaven. The six of them called themselves the Survivors, an apt name considering they — and their companies — survived the pandemic.

The Survivors were gathered in The Heaven’s library, though none of them were reading. Usually, they would complain about their woes of life after COVID-19 while being served wine and coffee.

Kamal relished these conversations. He told them all about the paternity leave. “It’s simply unacceptable how easy these youngsters have it nowadays,” he said, then looked at Salleh. “Dato’, I hope your sons aren’t like them.”

“They’re facing the same problems lah,” said Salleh from his plush leather chair — he was the only one who could sit in it. “Can’t they just get a maid, like normal people?”

“Apparently they can’t ‘afford it,’” said Linda, a Director of a glove-making company. She was making yearly losses after the pandemic went away. Kamal was sure she would be kicked out The Heaven soon. “I’ve seen the coffee my workers buy!” She snapped her fingers at Salleh’s maid who was standing by the door. “Girl, get me more wine.”

“Paternity leave is the least of your problems. My workers want a union,” Paul, a factory owner, chimed in vehemently. “Most of their work is done by machines anyway. I can fire them now if I want to.”

“Are we turning into a Communist country?” asked Halim, a bank Chairman. He was so aggrieved by the thought that he took off his kopiah and placed it on his chest.

“Next thing you know, there will be strikes!” Kamal exclaimed.

“It’s already happening,” said Salleh solemnly. “Why do you think Krishan isn’t here today? His smartass journalists are on strike because they haven’t gotten a pay raise in years.”

Linda sniffed in disgust. “Nothing like that is going to happen to my company.”

Darren, a former politician, wagged his index finger. “Don’t be too confident, Linda. I heard your workers are going to start unionising too.”

Kamal was inspired by his companions’ problems. And he thought he was having it bad! “Listen, we can put a stop to this,” he began, opting the tone he reserved for his strategy meetings. “We’ll put in policies that can counter these little rebels.” He had no idea what they were — he was going to leave that to his managers. “When they start acting out, we’ll threaten to sue. They’ll back off because we have money and they don’t.”

He puffed out his chest, hoping to look impressive. “We’re driving the nation here, not a bunch of rakyat who can’t even pronounce grande or venti at Starbucks,” he finished, and swelled in pride when his companions applauded him.

He was more than a ‘survivor’ — he was a hero.

Epilogue — 6 months later

Traffic was unexpectedly clear that morning, and Kamal took that as a sign the day was going to be smooth sailing.

He entered the office fully expecting everyone to be there. His new policies were supposed to put his employees in their place. Disobey, and he would deduct their pay.

But the office was empty.

On the walls, between small cubicles, ‘KAMI MOGOK’ was scrawled in red paint.

This (rejected) piece was submitted to a competition that asked writers to imagine a world after COVID-19. I had so much fun writing it, though!

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Tapi siapa yang rasa pedas tu… haa, nasib lah ye.