by Dr Rahim Said
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that in an exclusive condominium near the Kuala Lumpur Golf and Country Club, nothing gets “lost.” Keys, towels, gym cards — they’re shared over WhatsApp and magically reunited with their owners. Until, of course, my tumbler or flask decided to break bad.
Not just any tumbler, mind you. This was no freebie from a roadshow or a promotional throwaway. This was the tumbler.
A cherished memento from my talk at Taylor’s College, presented by none other than Newswav, the news aggregator par excellence. Granted, its market value couldn’t buy you a latte, but its sentimental worth was irreplaceable.
It started innocently enough. I left it perched on the stationary bike holder, as I’ve done countless times before. But this time, my trusty tumbler didn’t return home. It made a break for freedom—or so it seemed.
A helpful soul snapped its photo and shared it in our usual WhatsApp group. “Found tumbler by the gym,” they said, with the kind of civic duty you’d expect in our high-trust community.
I rushed to claim my wayward vessel, only to be met by the cleaner, who confirmed she’d put it on the counter. Alas, when I arrived, it was gone.
This isn’t China, where my friend once left a bag of cash at a hotel dining table and returned hours later to find it untouched.
Nor is it Bali, where karmic justice keeps everyone honest. If you so much as swipe a misplaced key in Bali, you risk lifetimes of misfortune.
Here? Well, our moral compass seems to operate on a slightly less calibrated axis, and let’s not even get started on the lack of CCTV coverage in critical tumbler-related zones.
Now, I could wax philosophical about respecting others’ property or bemoan the irony of my tumbler’s vanishing act in a community where Bentleys outnumber modest sedans.
But I prefer to think my tumbler has found a better life. Perhaps it now graces the hands of someone who needed it more — someone who doesn’t realised the karma they’ve unwittingly invited.
As for me, I’ll remain tumblerless, sipping water from glasses like the common folk, my faith in humanity slightly shaken but still intact.
Let this be a cautionary tale: trust your neighbours, but maybe don’t trust them with your sentimental tumblers.