Mall stories: Lessons from kopitiams and corridors

In retirement, I spend time in malls on my own or with other retirees. For many urbanites, malls are where people can enjoy cool, air-conditioned spaces on a hot day, and we have just endured a blistering heat wave in July and August. Window shopping costs us nothing, and food can be selected from the cheap, the reasonable to the very expensive. We retirees are looking out for affordable eateries, of course.

One of my favourite malls has a wonderful service for OKU (people with disabilities) providing them with power shoppers free of charge. This is a self-driven, electric-powered vehicle that is very easy to use. I have used it for well over 20 years with no mishaps. What bliss it is to be able to go around the mall looking at shops and inspecting menus on this trusty power shopper provided free for the OKU and the elderly.

What are my reflections at malls and how can these be linked to public policies? I shall let experts in economics deal with the macroeconomics of sovereign wealth funds and equity, lawyers deal with due diligence and accountants with tax breaks. The microeconomics of daily living is what appeals to me. Sitting at a table in a kopitiam, I often encounter riveting stories of daily life, unforced and quite naturally told.

One morning while sipping my hot kopi-O kaw-kaw (thick black local coffee), a young lady asked to share my table. We struck up a conversation over capati, and I was struck by her excellent command of English. A graduate, she now works as a salesgirl. Why, I wondered, is she working as a salesgirl? Not that I feel that there is anything wrong with a halal, honest job like that. But why does a graduate have to scale down her expectations? Aunty could only encourage her. Yet this chance meeting left me reflecting on the mismatch between the skills of our graduates and the demands of the job market. In this lady’s case, it is clearly not her lack of communications skills and certainly not her unrealistic salary expectations. So what is it? I leave it to the macroeconomists to ponder this (not just in despairing tones but with an inkling of hope. Otherwise, we can only sigh as we wonder if economics is a dismal science). Hopefully, these economists will work with educationists to dissect unemployment and the training of youths.

On another day, I had just sat down at the same kopitiam for breakfast and who should join me but Madam C, an elderly lady in her seventies. Madam C is a welcome and familiar face, whom I first met nearly a decade ago while she was cleaning the floor of a department store. “Cho sarn, cho sarn (good morning)”, she greets me as she joins me and shares two radish cakes which she takes out of her cloth bag. I wonder at her cheerfulness. Madam C has lost weight and her back is slightly bent. Clearly, the long years of honest labour have taken their toll. Her children have their own needs as she has grandchildren, so work she must. Again, I leave it to the experts to figure out if the BKM (Bantuan Keluarga Malaysia or Malaysian Family Aid ) and elderly assistance programmes need looking into. Does one have to be in ‘extreme poverty’ to get aid?

I hope Madam C has health insurance from her employer. As we age, medical expenses can cause us to toss and turn on sleepless nights. While I admire Madam C for her independence, I do worry if she will have to wait long months for government hospital treatments. Private hospitals cost a bomb and ask for medical insurance proof upfront. “We are running a business, not a chik seen tong (Cantonese for charity)”, private hospitals will say. Indeed, we know that, but can there be a more compassionate approach which may be good publicity for private hospitals even if altruism does not factor in? I leave it to the chief executive officers, the boards of directors and shareholders of huge medical companies to reflect on this.

Malls serve a diversity of people – people with visual impairment, people with canes like me, those in wheelchairs and so on. Yet our malls and other urban spaces rarely take into consideration the needs of such people. The Urban Renewal Bill must be intelligently, compassionately and transparently debated. It must engage with diverse groups, prioritising people over profit, decency over dollars. One afternoon, while I was looking at a shop window in a mall, suddenly a commotion erupted. A young mother was trying desperately to calm her autistic child who was alarmed by the loud noise and flashing lights of a display. “Aiya, why she brings such a kid out?” one very unkind person said. She has every right to do so. The mom took out a little musical toy to give her child and all was well as the child focused on a new sensory stimulation. A kind shopkeeper came out to hand the child a lollipop.

It is very hard for all – the businesses in the mall, the consumers, myself included – because a commotion does trigger alarm. But there is nothing to fear when we encounter people with autism. We need to educate people on autism and tell them that we, bystanders, can be understanding. Malls can provide green spaces, especially those with colourful blooms, to soothe and refresh all of us, autistic or not. Some malls do set aside space for such tranquil nooks.

Finally, I return to my earlier mention of free power shoppers – battery-powered vehicles, very easy to manage, which I have enjoyed using free of charge in my favourite mall. There should be more of these. Escalators should be well maintained and not break down frequently. Can they be made to move slower so that the elderly and people with canes and others in need of help can step on safely? Can there be more seats in lobbies to rest on?

Of course, I must be fair. All of us must take responsibility and be civic-minded when we visit malls. I have seen people throw rubbish anywhere convenient to them, totally ignoring rubbish bins. Some parents allow their children to run up and down escalators, bumping dangerously into others. Adults and children alike have become such mobile phone addicts, scrutinising these seductive devices so closely as they walk along the corridors of malls that they bump into people. When I use the power shopper and see these ‘addicts’ coming my way, I use the horn loudly. They deserve to be startled.

Malls are still welcome spaces to me. I hope the people who manage malls will realise that good, caring management is really a vital part of astute business sense.