I'm an Analyst

As Adam and I hailed a cab that would take us to the Bangsar LRT station, I promised myself that I would never pay another RM6.60 (US$2.20) for that leg of my commute. I resolved to learn the bus.

I arrived at Plaza Sentral at 8:00AM, so I had to wait for 30 minutes for the actual office to open. As soon as it did, I greeted Sean and got straight to work…on learning the bus route. I discovered that KL has 4 different types of trains (LRT, commuter rail, monorail, and a direct line to the airport), about 5 different city bus companies. By 8:59AM, I figured out which company I needed, but it was time to start work.

At about 9:15AM, I realized that Sean and I were the only 2 in the office. By 9:30ish and 9:45AM others trickled in. I wonder if this is because the CEO is out of town. We’ll see on Wednesday.

(From the office window. Luxury Condo in the foreground, Brickfields—Little India—in the background)

With a fresh pair of eyes and renewed pride that I was working at a fancy consulting firm in a real office building, I began to comb through MMC Corporation’s 2010 Annual Report in search of indicators to rate how socially responsible this giant infrastructure, transportation, construction logistics, and engineering companyinvested.

Although the electronic rating form consists of many boxes to tick (check, as we say), I became pretty nervous and began to second-guess myself. After all, this was a company that grossed RM8.6billion (US$2.95) in 2010. I didn’t want to mess anything up. I asked another analyst if the company deserved credit for disclosing that the company reviewed the size of the board and feels that it is appropriate. It was “heavily implied in the report since it said that it was the board’s job to determine this each year. If there were no changes—”

“Was it officially disclosed?”

“Not officially…”

“Then no tick.”

Later that afternoon, I received a contradictory answer to a similar question. This goes to show that even the most objective-looking rating tool is still vulnerable to human interpretation, biases, and inconsistencies.

At lunch, I chatted with the guys about socially-conscious rap (including the vile rapper, Common), bounce music, and second-lining. They shared that most young Malaysians listen to pop from Hong Kong and the West. The local music is folk music—not very popular for teens and twenty-somethings.

After establishing a modest rhythm on the ratings, and 6PM hit, I resumed search for the bus that would take me to the promised land. By 6:20, Andre was the only other person in the office. He took another 15 minutes, himself, helping me find which bus to take.

When I arrived at the Bangsar LRT station, I asked 4 different people where to find the T634 bus, and got 4 different answers. I then remembered my intercultural training. “Very few people there will admit that they do not know where something is (or fully understand your English), they’ll just point.” It got awkward when I had to stand right next to the first guy (of 4) who gave me the wrong directions. We were probably both embarrassed as we made no eye contact and I boarded the T634 bus. Though elated, I could not allow the Bollywood movie blaring on the screen to distract me. I still had to press that little red button right before my stop, or end up in Thailand or something.

As I stepped off of the bus at the correct stop, I strutted into the sunset in a self-congratulatory mood. I reduced my daily commute from RM15.20 (US$5.03) to RM3.60 (US$1.19)!

First monsoon and lessons learned

This morning I was caught in my first monsoon rainstorm. I had to leave the apartment at around 7:30 to get to my internship on time and not a minute before I gathered my things to leave, the rain started coming down in sheets. As a southerner, I am used to torrential downpours, so I figured that it would be similar to an Arkansan storm. While it only rained for about 30 minutes, I greatly underestimated the amount of water that would rush through the streets of KL, and consequently, into my leather work shoes. I was of course completely soaked from the waist down as my little umbrella could only protect me so much from the storm.

My pants did not bother me, within a few minutes of arriving to work, they were pretty much dry again, but my shoes are still soaked. My coworkers looked on as I stuffed newspaper into my shoes, hoping that it would minimize some of the dampness that will remain with me for the rest of the day.

There are two valuable lessons to be learned here, the first being that I should have called for a taxi to come pick me up from my dorm. The reason I got so wet was because I figured I could easily catch a cab where I normally do, which is five minutes away from the lodging. That five minute walk becomes a raging river during a storm, duly noted. I can bite the bullet, pay the extra ringgit it costs in distance to the Bangsar LRT station and remain a tad bit more dry.

The second lesson is that I need to embrace the sandal. Normally walking into an internship wearing a pair of open-toed sandals I purchased in India would not be the best impression to give my boss, but here exceptions are made for the monsoons.

-Adam

Singing in the Rain

My first non-taxi commute was quite an introduction. As soon as we left the building, a torrential downpour rendered my umbrella useless. My pants were soaked to the knees in water. The combination of walking up a hill and no planned storm drains on that street made for an exciting morning.

Geoff, the CEO of OWW got back from the UK a day earlier than expected. This did not change the culture of attendance and punctuality in the office. Within the first 30 minutes of meeting him, he welcomed me in the Western tradition of pretending to give me a hard time, making fun of my Blackberry and telling me not to use his internet to plan, “Lonely Planet excursions” after business hours.

I completed my first SRI rating and realized that I am learning a lot of normal business terms like:Key Performance Indicators (KPI), terms of reference, supply chain, local sourcing, share repurchase, dumping, and price-fixing. Sean will give me feedback on my rating next week, so I can see what I am doing wrong and right. I tried to pick a beer brewing company to rate, but Irene already had dibs on it. So now I am looking at another holdings company. It is a bit frustrating to start a new company with an annual report in a different format. I was just gaining fluency in finding what I need on the last company’s report.

At lunch, Devern, Andre, and I finally reached the topics of race and politics—the subjects I’d conducted research on and were advised to avoid before I got here. We discussed Barack’s effect on the perception of African Americans in the US; white guilt; US model minorities (especially Chinese and Indian). We covered the plight of the Chinese in Malaysia (although they are the market-dominant minority, they lack certain civil rights that every race in the US currently enjoys). According to law, the Malaysian president must be an ethnic-Malay, Muslim. All other Malaysians are forbidden—the ethnically Chinese, Indian, or other indigenous peoples. Several decades ago, the Malaysian government sanctioned massive affirmative action called the New Economic Policy (NEP) that included hiring, scholarship, and political benefits for Malays. The goal was to reduce the income inequality between the Malays and Chinese Malaysians. By 1991, when the NEP ended, many Malays attained middle-class status, but still had far less than 30% control over Malaysian industries (Malays are 50.4% of the population). The result was the introduction of a modification called the National Development Policy. Currently, it is hotly (passive-aggressively) debated whether or not this positive discrimination should continue. I naturally have a soft spot for the underdogs and I understand the frustration of Devern (a Chinese Malaysian) and Andre (a Chinese Indonesian). At the end of the conversation, I still thought, “What about the indigenous people? What about the Indians?”

Taking Danielle’s advice and ignoring Geoff, I planned a “Lonely Planet” excursion to Central Market—a night market with lots of art, souvenirs, and cheap stuff (sunglasses, watches, etc.).

I walked around the neighborhood a bit before I went inside. I have my eye on a hookah and a few other things. I will definitely return with some friends.

I had Indonesian food for dinner (a soy cake/omelet with peanut sauce). The first half of it was delicious, but I think that all of the fried foods finally caught up with me. I could not finish the last third.

When I returned to the villa, Zahir (I guess he’s like an RA) came by to chat. Although I did want some alone time, I took advantage of his local knowledge once I realized that he wasn’t leaving. I still want to know about the local music scene. He mentioned classical/folk music briefly before we spiraled into rants about Lady Gaga and Justin Bieber.

Budgeting, Then Some Malay Food

After the first couple of days of spending lots of money, I resolved to set my budget at RM50 (US$16.55) per day. To help out, I wrote a novice excel program to keep me in check. Everyday I type in the items I purchase and their costs. My formulas automatically generate my total spending in ringgit and dollars;and my average spending per day. So far I have spent a total of RM352.55 (US$117.52), an average of RM117.52 (US$39.17) per day. If have a few more days in which I spend well under RN50 (US$16.55), I’m sure I’ll meet my goal and begin to start saving for site-seeing, night life, and shopping in the markets.

We ate Malay food for dinner. Adam, and I both realized that we should learn some basics in Bahasa Malay, just to make ordering food less of a guessing game. We agreed to fried rice and assured the waitress that we could handle it spicy. I asked for ice water to drink. We sat outside where a Bollywood movie was playing with Bahasa Malay subtitles. When the two plates arrived, the waitress brought us delicious sweet iced tea (we ordered water). On each plate sat a giant pouch that resembled Jamaican roti, but even thinner; or a crepe, but much larger and stuffed tighter. The pouch was drizzled with a sweet chili sauce that I’ve seen in Thai dishes. Cautiously breaching the pouch, we discovered that it was a paper-thin scrambled egg filled with chicken fried rice. I could relax knowing that I would not be surprised by pork or beef this time. [I know what you’re thinking: “Aren’t the Malays Muslim? They shouldn’t serve pork, anyway.” While this is true, I narrowly escaped eating cow intestines in Little India the day before]. After not leaving one kernel of rice or a pea on our plates, we both payed RM6.90 (US$2.28).

On the way back to the villa, we passed the most fancy Pizza Hut that I had ever seen, complete with polished hard-wood floors, neatly arranged place settings, and an awning that rivals Commander’s Palace. I decided to stop in McDonalds for some ice cream. Half of the restaurant’s tables had Popeye’s-looking chicken wings on them. There was a double version of most sandwiches—a double Filet-O-Fish, a double Crispy Chicken Sandwich, and even a double Big Mac (yes, 4 all-beef patties!) The most exciting item on the menu was the Spicy McChicken. For all of all of my Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, Farmer’s Market, and food coop friends who don’t know what the inside of a McDonald’s looks like, I’ll explain the significance:

The Spicy McChicken was introduced in 1980 for a limited time. This was repeated in 1988, and again in 1996 when regional decisions were made, allowing the spicy version of the already-established McChicken to be sold only in a few markets. New Orleans, where it is affectionately known as the Hot N’Spicy, is the only market I have found it sold consistently (I have spent a lot of time in Atlanta, San Fransisco, Oakland, and DC). Its presence on the menu brought a golden smile my face.

First Day at Work

After consulting Yuva and spending some time on Google maps, Adam and I both discovered that it would be easier to take a RM6.60 (US$2.18) cab from Lensa Villa to the Bangsar LRT (train station). From there it would be easy for both of us to get to our respective internships. Mine was just one stop away at the KL Sentral Station, costing RM1 (US$0.34). Next week, we will learn how to take the bus to Bangsar and save even more money. My office was just a block away at Plaza Sentral. I arrived at 7:50AM. Assuming that the office would not open so early, I set up free WIFI on my Blackberry and began to check email and instant message Rajwantie via Google talk. I bought a bottle of water from the coffee stand in the lobby for over RM8—that’s almost US$3 for some water!

At 8:30AM, I confirmed the location of the OWW Consulting office at the help desk, and headed to the 12th floor. I found the office, could not see anyone through the locked glass doors, rang the bell, waited a minute, and returned downstairs. In the meantime, I tried to develop a budget with a daily allowance of ringgit, based on the costs that I observed so far. I checked the office again at 9AM with no luck. I called the office with my Malaysian cell phone, but got no answer. I returned once more at 9:30AM, Luke greeted me, let me in, and escorted me to the back of the office, where 4 young guys, 1 slightly older man, 2 slightly older women, and a younger women worked in silence. Luke introduced me to everyone in his accent from somewhere in the UK. He reminded me that the CEO, Dr. Williams (Geoff) would be in the UK until Wednesday.

After offering me something to drink, Carlos asked me about my flight and New Orleans. He shared his US experiences in both “shitty little towns” and “great cities.” Carlos assured me that New Orleans was one of the 4 or 5 US cities that he liked. After I disclosed my academic background, he shared his frustration with the aid culture in the field of development. Spewing one curse per sentence in his hybrid Colombian-Malaysian accent, he suggested that too many development organizations are “so fucking unprofessional.” Plus they should focus on all of the “shitty parts of the US” before they try to help others. He suggested that places should develop on their own at a natural pace. One of the younger guys, Devern and I chatted about American University and Teach for America while Geoff set up my work station, login, and email address.

Carlos explained to me what OWW actually does. They look at corporations mainly in Southeast Asia and evaluated their level of Socially Responsible Investment (SRI) and Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR). The following categories for SRI ratings are Labor, Environment, Business Behavior, Corporate Governance, Community Involvement, Human Rights, and Disclosure of Information. Each category has several sub-criteria that lean towards quantitative, with some qualitative data included. That is the positivism side.

The data that we use for SRI ratings is found on Google Finance, annual reports found on the companies’ websites, and online news searches. All PDFs are downloaded and saved. Then the SRI rating process begins. OWW has developed an online form that allows analysts to input data by checking boxes, summarizing evidence of (or lack thereof) sub-criteria, and citing the source. Once completed, the form automatically generates a quantitative percentile score with qualitative evidence.

My job for the next few days will be to conduct research on companies and complete SRI ratings. Sean, a young guy who is a leader of some sort, says that each company should take about 2 days to complete. I do not know whether it was the giant plate of food (RN5.50/US$1.82) I had in Little India (1 block away from Plaza Sentral) for lunch or just that I am new, but the pace at which that I was moving through my first one means that I may take me a little longer. It is very tedious work. I was able to peruse through a binder full of old SRI ratings that had been proofread. The one recurring criticism that I found a little intimidating was the proofreader saying that “this wording is from company perspective, not that of an analyst.” I hope to learn that language quickly. On the other hand, I can avoid many mistakes of non-native English speakers—almost the entire firm.

Carlos heads the education division of the firm that conducts CSR trainings and develops curricula—Academy of Responsible Management.

I was delighted to be informed that the normal work attire is smart casual (business casual) and Fridays are dress-down days (jeans and a t-shirt). Friday is also an hour shorter (9AM-5PM, instead of 9AM-6PM).

When I returned to my room, the AC was finally working. As much as I wanted to stay awake and get my sleeping schedule right, the AC and Indian food put me in a light coma.

I Just Touched Down

The next morning I discovered that my connecting flight to Kuala Lumpur (KL) was in the “Budget Terminal.” I should have known what to expect by the name. This meant that I had to go through Singapore’s immigration, claim my baggage that sat in the lost-and-found overnight (standard for long layovers), go through customs, and stand outside in the thick heat and humidity for the shuttle to take me to this “Budget Terminal.”

Upon arrival, I realized where the name came from. The contrast was razor-sharp. I went from the luxurious, pristine, automated, digitized airport to a dingy, small, humid, terminal with house flies and an industrial tin ceiling. It looked similar to the New York Port Authority bus terminal, only for planes. I assume (still need to research) that this was once the main airport in Singapore, years before Changi was constructed. Even the travelers were different. The children were louder and more energetic. The adults were dressed less posh. Since all of the flights were regional, the planes were much smaller—equipped with propellers, staircases attached to the inside of the doors, and four seats per row (2 on either side of the aisle).

An hour later, I arrived at Sultan Abdul Aziz Shah Airport in Subang, rather than the larger Kuala Lumpur International airport. It was newer and cleaner than the “Budget Terminal,” but a lot smaller than Changi. I took a cab to HELP University College (HUC) for 30 ringgit (RM30), which is US$9.93 (no tip expected). After dragging my messenger bag, garment bag, and 49.2-pound suitcase up and down the uneven sidewalks asking people, with little luck, where the HELP Residence Management Office was, I located the international student support office, where I was able to contact Management via phone. I did so with the help of an Indian woman with obvious compassion in her eyes. She challenged the first guy I spoke with (either Chinese or Malay, I presume) who was giving me a hard time about not having paperwork in-hand, proving my housing arrangements. Perhaps she noticed the giant sweat stain on the front of my button-down shirt and the frustration overtaking the forced patience on my face. Maybe the first guy just wasn’t so observant.

Minutes later, I was met by two management staff members (Yatie and Zahir) and a white guy that locked familiar. Yatie loaded my luggage in her car, saving me a grueling walk over more uneven sidewalk, unplanned urban vegetation, a pedestrian bridge with stairs crossing a highway, and a hilly block leading to HUC’s Lensa Villa. The white guy turned out to be my roommate, Adam, who I had met at the study abroad orientation, back in DC. Zahir took us to get groceries and cell phones before checking us back into our suite across the bridge.

Later that night, we met our suite-mate, Yuva, a young Indian student from Penang (a city in Northern Malaysia), who was very friendly and easy-going. When we went out to find power converters and Indian food, I noticed one familiar phenomenon and several exotic things. Sharing the sidewalk with the roaches at night was natural to me, as I grew up in the similar mugginess of New Orleans. One exotic experience for me was seeing and hearing a brand-new Lamborghini hum down the road. In Geneva, Buckhead, Sandton, and Palo Alto I had seen and heard the pur of high-end Porches and Ferraris, but never a Lambo! I even saw a Bentley with a driver.

Crossing the pedestrian bridge, we noticed a group of men bathing in the courtyard of a beautiful office tower construction site. Yuva said “it’s a shame how they treat those [Indonesian] immigrant-workers.” Zahir added that some of them come from Nepal. I remember reading that almost 2 million immigrants, mostly from Indonesia, compose about 17% (according to the Ministry of Finance) of the Malaysian workforce. Hundreds of thousands are here illegally. Many of the these workers practice Shiite Islam, prevalent in their homeland, but banned in Malaysia. Here, only Sunni Islam is legally permitted. Practicing as a Shiite would get you detained. Furthermore if you are discovered as an illegal worker, you will be deported immediately. There is a thin line between legal and illegal. If a legal immigrant worker is mistreated by their employer and registers a complaint, the employer’s counter-complaint can travel faster through the system. The worker’s permit could be revoked, making him (usually male) illegal. The result is huge potential for workers to treated unethically. These are the issues that many companies omit in annual reports or their Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) strategies.

The food was great. We walked past McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Subway, and KFC to get to an Indian buffet. I started out with a huge plate of white rice. I went from tray to tray adding items what looked familiar until there was no room left. I had a plate of stuff that tasted similar, but more spicy than US Indian food. I watched Zahir and Yuva use a fork and spoon simultaneously. The fork was used to place the food on the spoon to be eaten. I drank rose syrup and lime juice. The very-filling meal ran me about RM8 (US$2.65)!

That night our AC was not working and we did not know how to operate the hot water heater, so a cold shower was actually a relief. Zahir later told us that, first, a switch outside of the restroom must be turned on for power. Then the temperature gauge in the shower has to be switched on. Although it is marked otherwise, there are two settings—freezing and scolding. Adam shared his idea of switching from one to the other every 20 seconds, not giving it enough time to transition to each extreme.