This article first appeared in Digital Edge, The Edge Malaysia Weekly on April 11, 2022 - April 17, 2022

The Movement Control Order imposed in 2020 was the main reason for my three-month hibernation. My plans to pursue my studies abroad were foiled by blanket travel restrictions. I was completely averse to online classes, mostly because of friends who shared horror stories of screen burnout.

When the Ministry of Health finally announced zero local transmissions of Covid-19 on July 8 that year — marking that momentous day with a picture of an egg uploaded on the ministry’s Facebook and Twitter accounts — I decided that it was time to get off my couch and get a job, since there was no certainty about borders reopening on the horizon.

At 20, I thought I already knew what to expect from an office job: 6ft by 6ft cubicle, executives in professional attire and dutifully clocking in from 9am to 5pm. What I didn’t expect was to see my colleagues in knee-length shorts and comfy long johns. It became a normal sight after a while as I, too, joined them with my monkey-emoji-printed sweatshirt. 

I took on a marketing position, so I was added to over 30 WhatsApp groups to liaise between departments and retail outlets. This gig was meant to be temporary. I told myself I would do this for no more than six months, but I faltered.

My friends, the majority of whom are still in college, called me “lucky”. At that point, I didn’t quite understand why, as none of them would want to trade places with me if the opportunity presented itself.

But I soon realised that I was indeed luckier than most workers. I was lucky enough to not experience depressing work conditions, I was lucky enough to be offered a salary above the minimum wage and I was lucky enough to be spared from office politics (I worked at a start-up with a very young and dynamic team).

The same cannot be said for many of my fellow countrymen and desperate migrants who had flocked to our shores in the hope of better working conditions.

It was when Channel 4 — a British free-to-air public service television network — released an exclusive report last year on migrant workers being subjected to abusive working and living conditions by Johor Baru-based ATA IMS Bhd, which makes parts for Dyson’s vacuum cleaners and air purifiers, that I realised how lucky I was.

Just a day before the exposé, Elon Musk’s familiar face showed up on my Twitter timeline, as the state of California had filed a suit against Tesla for a “racially segregated” workplace and discrimination against its Black employees.

I’m aware that labour abuse goes back centuries, but the notion that the wealthy continue to “steal” from their workers in this day and age makes me sick.

Dhan Kumar Limbu, one of the workers at ATA IMS, described his work hours as “12 hours a day, seven days a week, 30 days a month”.

It was Dhan Kumar and his fellow underpaid and overworked workers who were making the much-coveted luxurious cordless vacuums. These workers — who are often the butt of jokes resulting from our xenophobia — are the ones who put together the air purifiers that sanitise the air we breathe.

From time immemorial, humans have chased progress at the expense of our brethren. But it is time we change. If there is anything I’m grateful for in this pandemic, it is how irresponsible employers are cast into the spotlight and how social media is being utilised to highlight the woes of the oppressed.

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