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The Odd Jobs Nobody Talks About

The Odd Jobs Nobody Talks About

The city runs on work that most people in the city never think about.

Someone cleaned the office you sat in this morning before you arrived. Someone collected the rubbish from the bin outside your apartment block before you were awake. Someone stood in a glass-and-aluminium tollbooth for eight hours waving cars through, doing a job that involves almost no variation, in heat that builds up inside that box in ways that people driving past in air-conditioned cars probably don't register.

These are the jobs that hold a place together. Not the jobs we celebrate in career fairs. Not the ones with LinkedIn announcements and salary band negotiations. The ones that happen in the background, that we notice only when they don't happen: when the rubbish isn't collected, when the night guard isn't at the desk, when the lift isn't cleaned and starts to smell.

A dispatch rider on a good day earns maybe RM80 to RM100. On a bad day, in the rain, with a difficult delivery address in a development where the unit numbers don't match the app, significantly less. There's no employer in a conventional sense. No MC, no EPF from anyone but yourself, no annual leave, no bonus at Raya. The arrangement is presented as flexibility, and it is flexible, flexible enough to mean the person absorbs all the risk that an employment contract would otherwise distribute.

The same is true of contract cleaners, security guards on two-year renewable agreements, event workers hired daily. They're not outside the workforce. They are the workforce. They're just in the part of it that the system wasn't really designed to protect.

This matters in a specific way that compounds over time. EPF requires an employer to contribute alongside the employee. If there's no employer, or if the employer is a platform that classifies you as a "partner", the contribution is optional and often doesn't happen. By 55, the gap between a salaried worker who had consistent contributions and an informal worker who didn't is not a few thousand ringgit. It can be the difference between having something and having nothing.

There's dignity in these jobs that doesn't get acknowledged as often as it should. The night guard who's been at the same condo for eleven years knows every resident by face, probably knows more about what goes on in that building than anyone. The cleaner who does the same hospital ward every morning has a professional consistency and reliability that would be praised loudly in any office job. We just don't use those words for this kind of work.

Something lingers when you think about the invisibility. Not that these workers are invisible in a literal sense. You pass them every day. But the work is socially invisible in that we've built systems of recognition, reward, and protection that were designed without them in mind.

The city is running. Ask who's keeping it running and the answer is usually not the people we first think of.