B!tch

"Stay in the MAHE Hostels. It's much more convenient than staying elsewhere."

Lt. Col. Sohal, Chief Warden of MAHE Hostels

This post comes as a warning to those dealing with pinheads, incompetents, red-tapes and capitalist pigs (like those white-collared ones working for MAHE*)

*Manipal Academy of Hentai Enthusiasts

One word of warning though; my writing may seem a tad less coherent than usual. I just ingested 50 times the amount of alcohol my body's used to and it's 3.16 am. My booze hymen is all torn and bloody.

Back to my crappy story,

It all started when I tried to get back my deposit for my hostel room;

• It's a money issue, so I headed for the Finance Counter.
  
• A pug-faced lady redirected me to this little office beside the Finance Counter labeled 'Bank'. WTF does that mean anyway? MAHE has its own money bin?
  
• Yet another pug-faced clerk in 'Bank' told me that, in order for me to retrieve MY cash, I must first get three things; a Hostel Room Vacating Form from the Nehru pencil-pushers, a Form from the Mess Hall stating that I owe nothing to them, and the Chief Warden's signature/autograph/calligraphy (it's like a f*cking RPG game where you have to collect 3 treasures to defeat the Boss Demon or some lame sh!t like that)
• So I homed in on Mess first, and got the form from there without a hitch. So far, so good...
• Next treasure; Hostel Room Vacating Form. I sped off to my Hostel (Nehru) and marched up to the desk to ask for it. The two minimum-waged-good-for-naught sitting there told me that I can't get the bloody form without the Chief Warden's permission. Huh?!
  
• Okay. Calm down, k0k - don't need to get all upset. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in...
  
• When I reached the Chief Warden's office, I asked for this 'permission' thing and the clerk there told me; "You vacating your room, no? You must have written permission from your parents faxed here."
• What. The. F*ck. Am. I. On. Candid Camera?
• I calmly (amazing patience, isn't it?) asked the clerk for the fax number and promptly walked all the way back to Nehru again to my room - to e-mail my Dad the letter I want him to copy down, attach his signature and fax it the Chief Warden's office.
  
• My dad managed to do just that even on such a short notice (patience runs in the family, see). He said he'll message me after he faxed the letter.
• After a fair while, my Dad's SMS did came - but only to tell me that the number I gave him is not in service.
• WHAT!?
• I dashed back to the Chief Warden's office and asked the clerk for the number again. This time, she gave me the same one - except for an extra 0 somewhere.
• Odd, isn't that one extra digit more than usual? So I asked her to look at it and confirm whether it's correct or not. She said yes. Fine.
• I called back to Malaysia and Aunt Sadie picked up the phone (my Dad's off to play chauffeur for my Sis). I gave her the new number.
• Tick... Tock... Tick.... Tock
• Error. Number not in service. Again?
• I practically stormed back into the office and was forced to wait a painful, agonizing, fuming, close-to-exploding 15 minutes while she fixed some paperwork for some other student.
• I shoved my phone under her nose with the number she gave me in display. "Are you sure this is the right number?" I snapped. She hardly glanced at it but said yes.
• Yes? Count the digits, b!tch.
• She looked at it again and asked, "Who gave you this number?"
• YOU, B!TCH! YOU DID! YOU F*CKING GAVE ME THE NUMBER TWENTY F*CKING MINUTES AGO AND YOU'RE ASKING ME WHO F*CKING GAVE ME THE F*CKING NUMBER!? F*CK YOU! YOU MUST THINK THAT I'M F*CKING STUPID!
  
• That's not what I said, of course. I'm too civil. I merely insisted that she check it up properly and please, oh f*cking please give me the right number this time.
• At last! After contacting my aunt, the fax was finally on its way. I returned to the Chief Warden's Office for the third time - but the fax isn't there.
• ...
• Where's the f*cking fax?
• B!tch clerk: "There's no fax machine here, you know? Faxes all go to fourth floor of this building."
• I stubbornly stood there for a bit, looking defiant. "So I have to go get it myself from the fourth floor?"
• B!tch: "Yes."
• Frankly, I've never felt more murderous in my life. But I spared the miserable b!tch's life and trooped upstairs. I half expected the elevators to be out of order. Thank Hitler they weren't.
• I returned to the Chief Warden's office for the FOURTH F*CKING TIME after playing fetch. The b!tch took my fax and read it wordlessly, and then made a phone call. After that, she began talking loudly to her colleague sitting beside her.
• So do I go back to Nehru for my Vacating Form now?
• I coughed. She continued chatting.
• I tapped her on her shoulder [ick] and asked.
• She made this f*cked-up expression at me (like the kind people do when observing a cretin or a retarded seven-year-old) and said "Yes. Go," with a dismissive, blatantly rude hand gesture.
• ...
• No killing. Remember the Buddhist precepts. NO KILLING.
• So I filled up the Vacating Form back in Nehru and returned to the Chief Warden's Office for the FIFTH F*CKETTY-FUCK-FUCK-FUCKING TIME! But this time, I finally get to meet the Chief Warden for the very first time in the course of this terrible, nightmarish day.
• The Chief Warden is a tall Punjabi man called Lt. Col. Sohal - but everyone calls him Sohai. He signed my papers without even looking at me. While he was busy scribbling, I was surveying his room. His back faces a glass window which I was sure I can break to enter later that night. I'LL PILE ALL HIS F*CKING PAPERS UNDER HIS BIG, FAT-ASS DESK AND TORCH IT. I'LL FUCKING BURN DOWN THIS NEST OF INCOMPETENT SH!T-F*CKS. F*CKING SOHAI AND HIS ARMY OF SOHAI CLERKS! GO BURN IN HELL THE LOT OF YOU!
• It's a miracle! I finally got all the documents signed and stamped - and I hissed "B!tch" at the b!tch clerk as I passed by her (you should have seen the look on her pig-sh!t excuse for a face). Happily, I practically skipped like a 5-year-old to the 'Bank' to claim MY deposit.
• Alas, I had to sit and wait in the 'Bank' because the pug-faced clerk was away from her desk for some reason or other that I don't really give a f*ck about. Just a little longer won't hurt much.
• 10 minutes later when Pug-Face returns, I handed the papers in and opened my arms wide for MY deposit.
• She said, "Your money will be issued after your one-month holiday."
• Cibai.

Never ever, under any circumstance rent a hostel room from MAHE. No convenience is worth this torture - none, I tell you! If you're ever thinking of coming to MMMC, I've two things to say to you;

1. Get someone you know (a senior, for example) to arrange a tenancy for you in a nice place outside of campus. If you don't know anyone, stay in a hotel for awhile and start hunting.
2. Why the f*ck are you coming here for? Malaysian colleges not good enough for you, is it?

I meant to blog about my new room actually but two humongous posts back-to-back seemed to me like too much k0k crap for any sane reader to bear (assuming, of course, that anyone would bother reading this OMFG Wall-o-Text).

Here's a preview though;

My new home consisted of the two upper floors; right on top of that squashed ground floor room.

It is now 5 am in the morning. More photographs in my next post. Stay tuned.

Peeved and sleep-deprived,
k0k s3n w4i