Off the Record

Its a curious state of existence not having any identification nor a dime to my name. Firstly, i could not leave the house without having the nagging feeling that  i am liable to be arrested for no reason by the police and be locked up for not having any means of proving my nationality. That and also the fear that should anything happen to me (read: should i die of any circumstances) my body would simply marked as another John Doe, to be left in the morgue until someone claims for me or until they extract a tooth from me for comparison with available dental records (they do have that kind of thing kan? I speak in ignorance of the accepted procedures in this fair nation of ours)
Secondly, I'm dead broke. Like i said before, not a dime (cent if you prefer it) to my name, its all in the bank, which by the very nature of my current predicament, beyond my reach. Having said that, it goes without saying that to be out and about in a city requires money and i'm not comfortable with the idea asking for money from my folks. Never been the asking type.

As i remembered it, a day before i left the firm i cleaned out my wallet of all the unnecessary things, old scrip, receipt which the writings have all faded. No nook and cranny left unchecked, i went through every single contents of the wallet,  receipt of my first statute i bought as a law student, movie ticket stubs, picture of me and the missuss. It was a beautiful thing the wallet, a birthday present it was. Was, because i never knew it was the last time i would see and touch it.

Lost it was, that's the infuriating thing. When it comes to my wallet i've always made sure that its either in my pocket, its usual place or somewhere else safe. I remembered putting in into my back pocket of my jeans the morning before we left for my sister's graduation. I only noticed its disappearance right before i came out of the car at Seremban RnR, I came to the conclusion then that it must have been left the living room where i had laid down while waiting for my mum to get ready, i came to that conclusion because i didn't left the car from the moment i stepped into the car until we stopped at Seremban where i noticed that my wallet is not with me, right before i stepped out of the car. But when we came home that evening the wallet was nowhere to be seen and a furious search of the car yields the same result. So did another thorough check of both the house and the car the next day.

Today, i had all the ATM cards blocked save for Bank Islam whose definition of Customer Service does not include answering the phone call of a customer in distress and a police report made (the most laconic piece of literature i've read so far) at the local police station.

As for tomorrow, an appointment with the National Registration Department awaits at Maju Junction, the Road Transport Department (at the 2nd Floor) and later with the three banks for the replacement cards and wee bit later, the long due payment for my convocation bill (hurrah!). It ought to feel odd, not having anything in my back pocket.

One consolation, the only consolation that i have from this is that i'm glad that my pay for last month was not in the wallet, else i'd be cursing to no end for that kind of bad luck.

And so children, the moral of the story is, to never ever put all your eggs in one basket.