The First Job

* This one has nothing to do with my previous post.


My first job upon leaving alma mater was an executive at Times Publishing Group. I actually underwent my practical training there during student days. As I had performed well during the training, (haha they had no comparison though, I was the only student there) the GM offered me a job right away and that I was eligible to start working once I have finished my graduation course.

Alhamdulillah. I never had to experience ‘petik anggur’ period in my life.

I managed to survive the course with a hectic final semester behind me. I could still recall my final presentation speeches, the hardcover-bound thesis, assignments, art boards, presentation cubicles (we were each given a cubicle with partition to portray the art works and to decorate the space to our hearts’ content, this is a normal thing for design students) and the ancient gigantic printing machine at the lab. It was an old Heidelberg. I was from the faculty of Art and Design, majoring in Printing Technology and Publishing, UiTM.

So I started my first job at Times with gusto. It so happened that though my line supposed to place me in the production department, I spent my six-month-probationary-period in the customer service and marketing division instead, attending to clients that print their books and magazines at the large printing factory.

Simultaneously throughout the earlier months, I also did some planning and scheduling work for the printing jobs before gradually shifted to production planning work entirely. Production planners in Times however, still see clients occasionally to discuss their publication materials. My call cards read Production Planning Executive and that was how my production career officially began.

My job was to fully understand the nature of the publication, some important factors that the clients desired, and from there on I would work out a charted schedule and a whole commencing processes for the clients’ reference so as the internal production’s utility.

The preliminary meetings were exhausting. Since working with Times, I had never looked at any printed materials with the same manner again. Be it books, magazines, newspapers, brochures, pamplets, cards, corporate reports, note books, even Al-Quran, Surah Yasin, bibles, everything on earth that actually had to go through the printing machine. There was just so much work involved before they resulted to their final look now.

A group of production people, sometimes joined by clients, the more lenient ones would pass everything to Times to decide, will sit down and coordinate the format of the book with the urgency of plotting a war plan. What type of paper suitable for a particular book, was it paperback or hard cover, how thick the spine of the book would be, what method were they going to before printing stage, were they going to have the book marking string jutting out from the book, the printability results of the publication and so on. It required at least half a day of brainstorming.

The production planners were assigned to categories of publications that they to in charged of. There were local books, UK books, US books, magazines (only covered local and a few Singaporean mags), and in house books. Quite strangely in Times, ‘local’ defined as books originated from Malaysia, Singapore and sometimes even China. Perhaps they meant Asia instead of local, and the word local derived from the fact that these countries had a Times Publishing office. Books of UK and US were certainly clear as the name suggested, and ‘in house’ meant publication by Times Publishing Group itself.

I was the planner for magazine jobs, the planning and processes were slightly different from books. The most obvious thing about magazines, they were produced every month with bigger quantity than books. So, the turnaround days of production were very very short. Five or six days max to produce 60,000 magazines was a routine situation. Oh, that was for only one title, I mean the quantity. It was almost an unspoken thing that every single soul working in Times aware of, magazine planner’s job was very tough indeed.

Having mentioned that, ‘twas my luck though. When I first started with planning work, the senior exec that was doing magazines was offered a job at Measat Publisher, then all the magazines’ accounts were automatically making their ways to my fumbling two hands.

Times Publishing compound was significantly separated by two large buildings, publishing and manufacturing. My office was the one at the manufacturing wing. I went down to the factory countless of times a day, it was impossible to wear heels. I had mountains of papers on my table, documents related to job planning. If one magazine title needed one mountain of its own, thing was, I didn’t just plan for one magazine, not even two. I planned the schedule and production stages for usually seven to ten magazines at the same time!

The working-hour was from 8.30 am to 6 pm. Up until today, I’ve never been to a 9 to 5 working place, just for the record. At Times, the planners however rarely come at 8.30 am sharp. Our time was around 9 to 9.30 am, had to reach before 9.30 because that’s when the morning meeting started. Bosses never bothered about production planners’ working pace or punctuality. I even thought they were smart to hire responsible, enthusiastic planners in the first place.

Naturally everything had a reason. Planners had no choice but to attend and finish their jobs. Nobody said anything about them coming late, not even HR. You wonder? Wonder no more. It’s not uncommon sight to see a group of planners eating pizza in the office at 11 pm at night and they didn’t look like going anywhere even at that hour.

That’s why, I had no life other than my work for the whole couple of years I was there. Colleagues were friends, and my friends were colleagues. My mom once remarked, my profession was like a doctor. I was on call even on weekends. Some friends hated me because I didn’t attend weddings, I never could make it for coffee, I kept telling them I was busy, busy, busy.

It lasted until one day I realized I didn’t received any calls inviting me to hang out anymore. But the truth was, while the real people were enjoying their weekends, I was stuck behind some machines explaining to the loud and nasty fashion editor from Singapore on why the cover girl’s skin tone looked slightly burned and at the same time screwing the machine crews for completely ruining my pathetic weekend.

Right, I should mention this as well. This is quite interesting. When somebody in the office screwed up anything, do you have any idea how the bosses react? They’d scream fuck at you before started the lengthy lecture. Yes, the word. That’s a culture I guess. Terrible, but almost charming. After I left Times, I had never been to a place that I hear the ‘F’ word raining everyday. I’d have to say, I kinda miss that.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Why the hell did you let the book run without a fucking schedule being circulated to the bloody printing team first?!!” Okay, this one from Mr. Koo. To my ex Times colleagues that reading this, all of us know Mr. Koo was a very adorable boss, quite fatherly. Yet, that was his standard temperament when somebody made mistakes. He was the Production Manager. Left already, promoted as CEO at a reputable magazine publishing company.

Sounds horrible? Here comes the perk of the job paragraph. Everything happened so fast and furious at Times that it kept the adrenalines up, all the time. Being bored at Times was like putting air cond in the igloo. Never happened.

It was a huge directorate office that screamed urgency and importance. People’s attire was corporate and sharp. It’s really okay if you feel like all black, from shirt to skirt to pantyhose. Your colleagues couldn’t be more international, it reminded you of being at the airport departure station. There were a few Europeans as well as Americans, not so few Indians (you got it, from Delhi), Vietnamese, Chinese (from the Great Wall), Lebanese, Nepalis, at least those I can think of now. That covered from management, executives, other staff to factory workers. What have you, all there.

This is personal, but I worked with big names of magazines at that time. Those that impossible for you to never heard of, or probably never bought before. So go figure.

There could be hundreds of makeup launchings, cocktails, high teas, fashion shows and entertainment events like The Eligible Bachelors Night (oh that’s a big clue), Hottest Cover Chick thing.. I believe you get the drift. I was single, workaholic and just imagine being insisted by the boss to attend these events for the sake of showing professional support and simply to present the company. My boss’s exact words, just go, have fun and utilize the VIP invitations.

Half of the invitation cards were actually bearing the boss’s name, but Miss R couldn’t be bothered about those things. So all the time, she was more than happy to shove them over to my face while emphasizing many times that I should GO. I was more than happy to obey. But let us note, Miss R never forgot to ask me to brief her on the occasions the following day. Made me realized that, whatever they were, they were all about work.

It was a two years jammed-packed with jumping adrenalines, high blood pressures, low blood pressures, training, learning, torturings, sharping my skills, my wits, the arts of cursing, the arts of courtesy (with clients, especially), work dedication, it was everything that I ever wanted in a first job. Seriously.

There were people who told me, whom were quite familiar with the industry, once you have worked at Times, you would have no trouble adapting with working at anywhere else, whatever the weather be. They’d always be a breeze to you. Work could never be easier.

Some added, once you have worked at Times, you’ll never have problem applying for a job elsewhere. Provided in the same industry of course. Or, other companies that know the reputation of Times and it’s employees, of which I’m sure, quite many.

I remember being doubtful about these statements initially, and satisfied to find out that they were true, years later.

I met Bigfish when I was working at Times, that I had the chance to share some cherry-perks with him when we were dating. Hey Bigfish, remember the free movie tickets? The men skincare samples? The free magazines that I lovingly supplied to your sisters monthly for their reading pleasure? (Eh, kalau mag publisher baca ni mati aku)

Bigfish encouraged me to develop my career (and salary) when he found out I was already in my second year, my salary increment, and the fact that I called him to say goodnight from my office cubicle. That was when I started looking around which by some luck, landed a job in Karangkraf with a very good salary increment.

The job that was waiting for me at Karangkraf was something new, compared to what I did at Times. I was so teruja still, and I remember my last day at Times that was so melancholic. Leaving such memorable place, colleagues, and swearing bosses behind. The large factory and the vibrating gigantic machines were my playground, the nice akak-akak from the factory were my friends, the clients whose some became friends, some big players that left an impression. The first company that I served with my full drive and capacity.

I miss Times, and know without it marking my career path and as a fragment of my life, I probably wouldn’t be here. And wouldn’t be what I am today.

Alhamdulillah..