STORY 1141 — I HAVE BEEN WORKING FOR 20 YEARS!

The first 10 years of starting my career were a very interesting phase of my life. During that period, I started my career, built a small family, and learned many things.

I learned how to be a husband and a father at home. I learned how to be an engineer and a leader at the workplace. During that period, with a small salary, I also learned how to manage my finances for myself and my family.

How did I learn?

I learned by making mistakes. Not by committing wrongdoings.

What is the difference?

A mistake is something we do without realizing it, while a wrongdoing is something we do consciously—and keep repeating it.

One of the things I enjoyed most at work was communicating with my bosses and the management team.

Whenever visitors from the top management came to visit the mill, I would always be excited. They were the old hands—people with many years of experience in the company and in the industry.

Meeting them in the field or at the mill was something I always looked forward to. Especially when the person was someone who was feared or highly respected within the company.

As usual, as a palm oil mill manager, I would personally welcome every visitor who came to the mill, especially those travelling deep into the interior.

During the two- to three-hour journey, I had plenty of time to understand my bosses better.

I would ask them all kinds of questions to understand their character more closely.

Every word they said, every answer they gave, was like cement being poured into my mind—something that I would keep as a guide throughout my life.

From those conversations, I also started to understand the direction of my bosses and what the company really wanted.

There is no denying that sometimes the questions I asked came back to me. And, of course, that became another lesson for me to carry into the next conversation.

Before I became a manager, when I was still an engineering cadet, some of my bosses would respond to our arguments with a final statement:

“Hey, listen to me. I have been working for more than 20 years!”

That sentence was actually a signal for us to stop talking and simply follow their direction.

At that time, being just a young man who had only recently started working, all I could do was remain silent.

I also remember some of them saying:

“Hey, please slow down your horse. Let me explain to you…”

Because of our youthful enthusiasm and young blood, we sometimes talked endlessly. The older and more experienced people, who patiently listened to our arguments, would use those words to respond to the questions we raised.

Now, I have been working for almost 22 years.

And after decades of thinking about those “final statements” from my bosses, I find myself remembering their words again.

I actually miss those moments—the atmosphere where we could sit down and have casual conversations with our bosses.

Sometimes, without us realizing it, those simple conversations would shape our character and become lessons that stayed with us for the next few decades of our lives.

Were their words a reflection of an autocratic leadership style, ego, or sarcasm?

After 22 years, I have actually started to understand the reasons behind those words.

But I have chosen not to use the same argument myself.

That is my story today.

7 Signs of a Weak Leader

STORY 1137 — DECISION MAKING

There is a saying: “Time is gold.”

It reminds us how valuable time really is. In an industrial environment, time is not merely money. Sometimes, a delay in making the right decision can lead to accidents, loss of property, enormous financial losses, and even loss of life.

As a manager of a plant operating 24/7, making the right decision at the right time is extremely important. Every decision—or failure to make one—can affect many people, especially those working at the operational level.

Some managers choose the safest option for themselves: they simply avoid making a decision.

Unfortunately, problems do not disappear just because we refuse to decide. Instead, they grow bigger and bigger until they become what I would describe as a “time bomb.”

The 200 MT Problem

One day, at a palm oil mill, there was a long-standing problem involving almost 200 MT of oil mixed with sludge.

The issue had existed for many years.

The material was stored inside a huge 2,000 MT storage tank, and because of the sludge contamination, the tank could no longer be properly utilised for CPO storage.

When a new manager took over, he decided to solve the long-standing problem.

After some discussions, the sludge oil was eventually sold at an agreed price and quality specification.

The buyer then started sending tankers to collect the oil from the tank.

But there was a problem.

Because the tank was huge, with a very large internal area, a significant amount of material would inevitably remain at the bottom after pumping. The remaining sludge, dirt and old oil amounted to almost 70 MT.

Once the pumping level became too low, the remaining sludge began to cool and solidify. It could no longer be pumped into the tanker.

And that was when the drama began.

RM2.7 Million—or RM270,000?

From the Marketing Department's perspective, the remaining quantity represented significant value:

70 MT × RM3,000/MT = RM210,000.

Therefore, the instruction was clear:

The tank had to be emptied as much as possible.

From the perspective of the mill supervisor, however, the situation was completely different.

He opened the tank manhole and inspected the remaining material.

What he saw was not simply oil.

It was a mixture of sludge, water and dirt, already partially solidified. It could not be pumped, and removing it manually would be extremely difficult and unpleasant.

And he was absolutely right.

I was also there and witnessed the situation myself.

Speaking Up for the Workers

I felt a responsibility to speak up on behalf of the workers who would eventually have to carry out the work.

So, I went to see the manager and discussed the situation with him.

My hope was that he would bring the matter to a higher level of management and find a safer and more practical solution for the workers.

Unfortunately, the value of the remaining oil appeared to become the main consideration.

The instruction was given:

“Get it out—by whatever means necessary.”

And so, the workers had to do it.

The Human Chain

According to the Mongana work published in the 1980s, moisture and impurities are important parameters in maintaining the quality of crude palm oil. The commonly referenced specification of around 0.25% moisture and impurities became an important quality benchmark for CPO.

When moisture and impurities are high, deterioration and FFA development can occur more rapidly.

But our immediate problem was not even the chemistry.

It was the physical condition of the sludge.

It could not be pumped.

Therefore, the only option left was manual removal.

We formed a human chain.

One shift of workers was assigned to carry out the job.

Small buckets were used to transfer the sludge, one by one, from inside the tank towards the tanker.

Imagine the scene.

The heat.

The smell of oil.

The sludge.

The mud.

The exhausting physical work.

And, most painfully, the faces and morale of the workers.

Watching them made my heart sink.

It was heartbreaking.

Almost a Full Day

Because the work had to be done manually, the despatch operation was severely disrupted.

It took almost the entire day.

Yet after all that effort, only a few tonnes of sludge had been transferred into the tanker.

The tanker driver noticed what was happening.

He subsequently reported the situation to his company.

Then came another unexpected instruction.

The buyer was not satisfied.

They did not agree with the condition of the material being loaded and requested that the sludge already transferred into the tanker be removed again.

We were shocked.

But another instruction came from above:

“Take it out.”

So the workers had to enter the tanker and remove the sludge using the same small buckets.

Another round of exhausting manual work.

At that time, confined-space safety requirements had not yet been fully enforced as they are today, and entering such spaces had unfortunately become something considered routine.

I could not do much.

The instructions came from above, and as workers, we were expected to follow them.

But deep inside, I kept thinking:

This is what happens when a wrong decision is made at the beginning by people who have the authority to make decisions.

The consequences are often not carried by the decision-maker.

They are carried by the people at the bottom.

The Lesson I Never Forgot

Since that day, whenever I am faced with an important decision, I remember this incident.

It taught me something that no management textbook could teach me:

A decision is not just about money.

A good manager must consider the people, safety, time, quality, operational impact, cost, and long-term consequences of every decision.

Sometimes, making no decision is also a decision.

And sometimes, the decision that appears to save money today can create a much bigger cost tomorrow.

Most importantly, when we make decisions from the comfort of the office, we must remember the people who will eventually have to execute those decisions on the ground.

Think before you decide.

Because one wrong decision at the top can create a nightmare at the bottom.

And in a 24/7 operation, sometimes…

the cost of a delayed or wrong decision is not measured in ringgit.

It may be measured in human lives.

That is my story today.

STORY 1135 PALM OIL INDUSTRY

As a migrant worker who has spent almost three decades away from my hometown, one of the questions I am often asked whenever I return home and meet relatives is, “What kind of work do you do?”

It is a very simple question to answer. However, explaining the sector of the palm oil industry in which I work is not always easy. The terminology can be highly technical and full of industry jargon, making it difficult to explain to relatives who have no connection with the palm oil industry.

Some even expect to hear that I work in a government department, perhaps as a teacher or government officer.

My usual answer used to be, “I work in a factory.”

That answer, however, would often create even more questions. Factory workers are not necessarily well known in society, and factory work is sometimes perceived as a low-class occupation.

This situation has repeated itself year after year, and I have always tried to find a better way to explain what I actually do.

When I say that I work in a palm oil mill, the next question is often:

“Oh, FELDA?”

“No, a private company.”

So, this time, I decided to explain it in much greater detail — the palm oil industry, the people working in it, and the journey that has shaped my career.

This is exactly what I have been trying to do since 2009, when I first started writing on my blog, Kembara Insan.

Although Malaysia was once the world's largest producer of palm oil, not many Malaysians know the industry in detail or understand the lives of the people who work and sacrifice so much within it.

Through my writing, I have tried to promote the palm oil industry while also telling the stories of the people whose lives and careers are deeply connected to it.

What makes my journey even more unique is that my career in the palm oil industry began in 2004 in Lahad Datu, Sabah, Malaysia, in the upstream sector. In 2015, I moved into the downstream sector.

In simple terms, the upstream sector covers oil palm plantations and palm oil mills.

In 2025, Malaysia had approximately 6 million hectares of oil palm plantations across the country, while Indonesia had approximately 17 million hectares, placing Indonesia in the position of the world's largest palm oil producer.

Malaysia also had 452 palm oil mills. Sabah was the largest producer within Malaysia, with 128 palm oil mills, while Sarawak had 84 palm oil mills.

These were the environments in which I gained my experience from 2004 to 2025.

Oil palm trees are planted in plantations and begin producing fruit from around their third year, with harvesting continuing until around twenty years of age, depending on company policy.

The fresh fruit bunches, or FFB, are then transported to palm oil mills throughout the country.

This is where the careers of planters and millers begin — wherever oil palms are planted.

They may work for giant government-linked companies, private companies, or 

smallholders, either in Malaysia or overseas. If a company has operations in another country, planters and millers may also be assigned to work overseas according to the company's requirements.

I worked in palm oil mills in Sabah and Sarawak from 2004 until 2015.

A palm oil mill does not produce only crude palm oil (CPO) and palm kernels. It also generates various by-products, including sludge oil, palm kernel shells and empty fruit bunches (EFB).

Some of these biomass materials can be used as boiler fuel, while EFB can also contribute to industries such as the furniture industry.

There are also palm oil mills equipped with incinerators for disposing of empty fruit bunches, producing boiler ash as another by-product.

The sludge oil sector also has a significant market in the biodiesel and oleochemical industries, where palm-based feedstocks are used to produce products such as palm methyl ester and fatty acids, as well as feedstocks for the energy sector, including biodiesel.

If today we buy diesel at a petrol station under the term B7, it means that the diesel contains 7% palm-based biodiesel.

Our neighbouring country has been even more aggressive in its biodiesel programme. Indonesia began mandating B2.5 biodiesel in 2008, and by 2026, Indonesia has implemented B50.

Indonesia is also expected to introduce a B100 policy in the future.

B100 would mean that the fuel contains 100% palm-based biodiesel.

Apart from oil and biomass, palm oil mills can also generate another valuable resource from their effluent treatment ponds — methane gas.

According to MPOB, a palm oil mill with a capacity of 60 metric tonnes of FFB per hour produces approximately 216,000 m³ of POME per year.

There is potential to generate approximately 3.73 million Nm³ of methane per year, equivalent to around 6.73 million m³ of biogas per year.

MPOB has also estimated that approximately 1.8 kWh of electricity can be generated from 1 m³ of biogas using a gas engine.

This was one of the main reasons I decided to obtain my Internal Combustion Engine Engineer licence in 2011.

Then, in 2015, I changed direction and entered the downstream sector, joining the palm oil refinery industry.

After working in almost five palm oil mills in Sabah and Sarawak, moving into downstream processing was a major step outside my comfort zone.

And honestly, it was not easy.

If someone were to ask me today, I would probably say that I would still like to return to being a miller and live once again in the beautiful environment of an oil palm plantation.

That is one of the reasons why I write so much about my experiences in the palm oil industry — the places where I built my career and where I built a small family life together with my wife and our five children.

From the palm oil mill, crude palm oil and palm kernels are transported to downstream facilities.

At the palm oil refinery, crude palm oil undergoes processes such as degumming, bleaching, deodorisation and fractionation.

Among the products produced are:

• RBD Palm Oil

• RBD Palm Olein

• RBD Palm Stearin

• PFAD (Palm Fatty Acid Distillate)

• Palm Mid Fraction

Meanwhile, oleochemical plants use products from palm oil refineries as feedstocks to produce fatty acids, fatty alcohols, methyl esters, glycerine/glycerol, fatty esters and specialty chemicals.

These products are manufactured through processes such as splitting, distillation, fractionation and hydrogenation/esterification.

They are then used in the production of many everyday products, including:

• Soap

• Detergents

• Cosmetics

• Personal care products

• Pharmaceuticals

• Candles

• Industrial chemicals

• Surfactants

The biodiesel sector is another important downstream industry.

Feedstocks such as CPO, PFAD, palm fatty acids and palm methyl ester are processed through transesterification and/or esterification to produce palm methyl ester (PME), or biodiesel, together with glycerine as a by-product.

PME is part of a very broad industrial ecosystem.

It can be associated with applications such as:

Biodiesel

Oleochemicals

Soap and detergents — including surfactants and cleaning products.

Cosmetics and personal care — including creams, lotions, shampoos and other personal care products.

Industrial lubricants

Solvents and industrial chemicals — including applications in cleaning, degreasing, paint and coatings, and chemical processing.

The palm oil industry is also increasingly connected to the development of Sustainable Aviation Fuel (SAF).

The industry can supply important feedstocks such as PFAD, palm fatty acids, used cooking oil, palm oil and palm derivatives, which can subsequently undergo hydrogenation and hydroprocessing through Hydroprocessed Esters and Fatty Acids (HEFA) pathways.

These processes can produce renewable diesel, naphtha/light hydrocarbons and gas.

After more than two decades working in this industry, I have become a witness to how the palm oil industry has transformed the lives of millions of people in Malaysia and Indonesia.

From upstream to downstream, there are countless people whose careers, families and livelihoods are connected to this industry.

I am proud to be one of them.

My journey began in Borneo, and today, I am still part of the palm oil industry in Sumatra, Indonesia.

This is my story today.

STORY 1135 INTEGRITY

One day, when I was still in primary school, my elder sister suddenly said to me:

“When you grow up and start working, never take bribes, okay?”

I was completely puzzled. At that time, I did not even know what a bribe was. I did not understand the meaning of corruption, nor did I understand why my sister was already warning me about it when I was still only a schoolboy.

But somehow, her words stayed with me.

I grew up during the era when PAS came to power in Kelantan under the leadership of the late Tok Guru Nik Abdul Aziz Nik Mat. In the 1990s, Tok Guru began building a unique legacy in Kelantan, bringing changes and reforms in many aspects of life.

For decades, Malaysians were accustomed to seeing a Menteri Besar wearing a songkok, tie and suit. Suddenly, the country witnessed, for the first time, a Menteri Besar who appeared in a turban and traditional Islamic robes. It was something very different from what people had been used to seeing.

When I entered secondary school, I began to witness how Tok Guru transformed Kota Bharu in various ways. One of the most iconic legacies was the weekly Friday religious lecture at Medan Ilmu, which continues to this day.

As a teenager, I knew very little about politics. I simply grew up listening to Tok Guru—whether through his religious lectures or during his political campaigns.

One of his routines was to perform congregational prayers at different mosques. Whenever I had the opportunity to see him at Masjid Al-Ahmadi in Kampung Tebing Tinggi, I would feel excited. Meeting him, even briefly, was something special to me.

Tok Guru often reminded people that every deed we perform in this world will eventually be accounted for in the Hereafter. For him, religion and politics were never separate.

I remember hearing him explain that candidates for the Kelantan State Legislative Assembly should not be smokers. His reasoning was simple but profound: if someone knowingly engages in something forbidden every day, how can we expect that person to remain steadfast when entrusted with the keys to the state's wealth?

It was a powerful reminder that integrity begins long before a person receives power.

As I grew older, the meaning of corruption became much clearer before my eyes. Perhaps because my sister had planted that warning in my mind when I was young, I became particularly sensitive to issues involving bribery and integrity.

When I first began sitting for the Steam Engineer examinations, I occasionally heard other candidates talking.

“Is there any officer we can contact to make sure we pass?”

I never pursued such a possibility.

Instead, I focused on understanding the requirements, preparing myself and going through every legitimate process. For four certificates, I attended the examinations eight times. I failed several times before eventually passing—all without finding a middleman or using any illegal means to secure a pass.

Looking back, I believe those failures were part of the journey.

Later, when I was appointed as a manager at a relatively young age, did anyone ever offer me money in an envelope?

Yes. Many times.

And every time it happened, I remembered my sister's words:

“Don't take bribes.”

At that moment, the real question was no longer about the money.

It was a question of faith.

Indeed, God tests us in many different ways. The Western saying goes, “Easy money, easy go.” In Islam, we are reminded that unlawful wealth can corrupt the heart and become a source of harm to ourselves and our families. It can darken the heart, deprive our lives of blessings and become a burden in the Hereafter.

Those thoughts would come to my mind whenever I was presented with a thick envelope filled with money.

I would ask myself:

Is this amount of money worth risking my faith, my family, my dignity and my Hereafter?

Allah's warnings have been given to us for a very long time.

So, do we really want to challenge Allah?

Today, we may take the money and think that nothing will happen.

But tomorrow, or the day after, can we guarantee that Allah cannot return the consequences to us in the blink of an eye?

Integrity is not tested when there is nothing to gain.

Integrity is tested when temptation is placed directly in front of us.

Sometimes, the greatest victory in life is not receiving more money, a higher position or greater wealth.

Sometimes, the greatest victory is being able to walk away.

May Allah protect all of us from the sin of bribery and corruption. May He preserve our faith, bless our lawful earnings, protect our families, and fill our lives with His mercy and blessings.

And may we always remember:

A clean conscience is worth far more than an envelope full of dirty money.

That is my story for today.

STORY 1133 — MANAGER

THE JOURNEY OF A MANAGER

Whenever I tell my colleagues that I am actually an introvert, they usually look at me, smile, and laugh.

Perhaps I should change the term now and call myself an ambivert.

My journey as a manager began when I entered the palm oil industry.

Every morning, we had a safety assembly. It was a discipline that had been strongly instilled in us by our managers and had eventually become part of our working culture. In the plantation, a similar morning gathering was known as the Muster Call, usually held before dawn before plantation activities began.

Because of the morning assembly, I was often “bullied” by the other executives to stand in front of everyone and speak.

The problem was, I did not know what to say.

So, I picked up a book on Fresh Fruit Bunch (FFB) Grading published by MPOB and started reading. The next morning, I explained the different types of oil palm fruit and how fruit quality could affect oil extraction efficiency.

The following day, I found another topic.

And I continued doing it every morning.

Without realizing it, those simple morning sessions gradually built my confidence to speak in front of people.

I also had an interesting experience during my first few months.

One day, we were repairing a leaking pipe at the workers’ housing area. In a plantation environment, we did almost everything ourselves—from the mill to the workers’ quarters. Even managing rubbish at the workers’ housing area could become part of our responsibility.

We were truly multitasking from the very beginning.

On that particular day, I noticed a worker who was not helping us while we were carrying out the repair. I spoke to him about it and brought up the matter during the next morning briefing.

That day marked the beginning of my staff realizing that I was there—and that I was serious about discipline and responsibility.

It may have seemed like a small incident, but it was one of the moments when I began to understand that being responsible for an operation also meant having the courage to speak up.

The morning assemblies gradually gave me the confidence to express what was on my mind.

When visitors came to the mill, I became one of the first people to welcome them.

When a General Manager—someone many people were afraid of—visited the mill, I did not run away. I was often one of the first to greet him.

When senior management came, I was also among those who accompanied them around the mill.

Because of this, more and more people began to know me.

Ironically, I had started my career as an introvert.

But the demands of the profession changed me.

I changed myself according to my responsibilities and the needs of my career.

Eventually, I obtained my Steam Engineer Certificate and was given management responsibilities at a relatively young age.

If you ask me today, I would say that part of my youth was sacrificed for the responsibility of managing an operation.

At a young age, I was already responsible for managing more than 130 people in a mill.

I often joke that this was one of the reasons my hair turned grey so early—because I had been dealing with people and their problems since I was young!

But behind the joke lies an important lesson.

I made many mistakes throughout the years.

Every mistake taught me something.

Every failure forced me to reflect.

Every difficult situation pushed me to improve myself.

That is one of the main reasons why I have always believed in finding mentors, learning both formally and informally, and continuously improving throughout my career.

I started my MBA in 2011 and became actively involved in Toastmasters in 2013.

Most importantly, I did not want to keep theories confined to books or classrooms.

I wanted to apply those theories in real organizations, observe the results, and determine whether they actually worked.

Throughout my career, I have managed people from different backgrounds in Sabah and Sarawak, including local employees and foreign workers from countries such as Indonesia and the Philippines.

Then, in 2015, I challenged myself to manage an organization outside my home country, with a foreign boss as well.

That experience introduced me to teams with different personalities, cultures, working styles, and expectations at a global level.

Every multicultural and multinational environment tested my management capabilities.

And every new environment reminded me of one thing:

There is always another way to learn, improve, and become more effective and efficient.

MANAGEMENT COMES WITH RESPONSIBILITY

Being given management responsibility comes with many privileges.

But, as Peter Parker famously said:

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Management authority must therefore be handled carefully and wisely.

If it is not, the privilege of having authority can become a tremendous burden.

Our decisions can eventually take us to a courtroom—or even a prison cell—if we abuse the responsibility entrusted to us.

And if we escape accountability in this world, we should still remember that we are ultimately accountable to Allah.

May Allah protect us from such consequences.

DELEGATION — A MANAGER CANNOT DO EVERYTHING

One of the first lessons a manager must understand is delegation.

A manager cannot do everything alone.

We need competent people.

We need to delegate.

But effective delegation does not simply mean giving someone a task and walking away.

We need to select the right person.

If the person is not yet ready, we need to train, coach, and develop that person until he or she becomes capable.

A manager without people is like a driver without a vehicle.

Management is not about doing everything ourselves.

It is about making sure the right people can do the right work at the right time.

At the same time, we do not operate in isolation.

We are part of a larger system.

Our success depends not only on our own department but also on other departments and external stakeholders—Marketing, Plantation, Procurement, suppliers, customers, contractors, and many others.

All these stakeholders need to be managed and coordinated properly.

I remember one particular emergency during my early career.

My manager brought me to meet the Plantation Controller at his bungalow because the mill was facing a serious operational problem.

The mill had accumulated a large quantity of fresh fruit bunches at the ramp.

My manager immediately discussed the situation with the Plantation Controller and requested that the plantations temporarily reduce their fruit deliveries for several days.

This required coordination with almost ten oil palm estates.

That simple but timely action helped prevent a much bigger problem—the risk of fruit deterioration while waiting to be processed at the mill.

At the same time, suppliers of critical spare parts from outside the plantation were contacted and asked to deliver the required components urgently so that repairs could proceed.

None of this could be achieved through technical knowledge alone.

It required communication, negotiation, coordination, decision-making, and leadership.

EFFECTIVE AND EFFICIENT DECISION-MAKING

In management, we may sometimes find a solution worth millions of ringgit.

But the question is:

Is it the most efficient solution within the available budget and resources?

That is where management becomes different from simply solving a technical problem.

We need to analyse.

We need to investigate.

We need to compare alternatives.

We need to understand the risks.

And finally, we need to choose the most appropriate solution.

Sometimes, we must make difficult decisions.

But courage in decision-making must always be accompanied by justification.

Why are we doing this?

Because one day, our decisions may be questioned by auditors, senior management, regulators, or even people who are specifically looking for weaknesses and mistakes in our work.

Therefore, every decision must be supported by sound reasoning, proper documentation, and accountability.

The authority, energy, manpower, money, equipment, and other resources entrusted to us are not for our personal benefit.

They are given to us to achieve the objectives of the organization.

WHAT DOES “BOSS” REALLY MEAN?

When people call us “Tuan,” “Sir,” or “Boss,” it should not simply make us feel important.

It is a form of respect from the people we lead.

But at the same time, that respect comes with an expectation:

They expect us to make their work easier.

That is, in my opinion, one of the true meanings of being a manager.

If our purchasing team is struggling to find a spare part, for example, we can help by sharing contacts from our professional network.

We can also ask for assistance through professional networks such as the Borneo Palm Oil Mill Engineer WhatsApp group.

By doing so, we are not doing the purchasing officer’s job.

We are helping him or her solve a problem.

And when we help our people solve their problems, we are actually helping the organization achieve its objectives.

That is the real meaning of management.

IT IS NOT ABOUT THE TITLE

Being a manager is not about having the title of “Boss.”

It is about thinking beyond ourselves.

It is about asking:

“How can I help my people perform their work more effectively and efficiently?”

A great manager does not measure success only by personal achievement.

A great manager measures success by how many people he or she has helped to succeed.

Because ultimately:

A manager works with people, works through people, coordinates their efforts, and brings everyone together to achieve organizational goals.

It is not about what I can accomplish.

It is about what WE can accomplish together.

And perhaps that is the biggest lesson I have learned after more than twenty years in management.

The higher we go in management, the less it should be about ourselves—and the more it should be about helping others succeed.

That is my story today.

Summary of Energy Efficiency / Energy Conservation Work

Summary of Energy Efficiency / Energy Conservation Work

1. Palm Oil Mill Energy Management

• Optimized steam and thermal energy utilization in palm oil milling operations.

• Improved boiler and steam-system performance to reduce unnecessary steam consumption and thermal losses.

• Monitored and managed power consumption, steam generation and process energy efficiency.

• Optimized mill operations involving sterilization, clarification, pressing and other energy-intensive processes.

• Worked with high-capacity palm oil mills, including mills processing approximately 90–150 MT FFB/hour, where energy optimization had significant operational impact.

2. Boiler and Steam System Optimization

• Applied extensive experience as a Steam Engineer/Boiler Competent Person to improve boiler efficiency and steam-system reliability.

• Improved combustion and biomass-fuel utilization.

• Reduced energy losses through better control of steam distribution, condensate and boiler operation.

• Improved utilization of biomass residues as renewable energy sources for palm oil mill operations.

• Worked on biomass boiler system improvements, including commissioning and optimization.

3. Steam Turbine / Cogeneration

• Supported energy-conservation initiatives through the utilization of steam turbine technology for electricity generation.

• A major example is the planned installation of a steam turbine associated with the reduction of Plant 1's electricity budget:

  • 2025 actual consumption: 7,964,438 kWh

  • 2026 consumption: 7,605,264 kWh

  • 2027 budget: 6,800,000 kWh

• The initiative represents an estimated reduction of approximately 805,000 kWh/year compared with 2026, through improved energy generation and utilization.

4. Solvent Extraction Plant – Electrical Energy Reduction

• Led/improved energy-efficiency initiatives in a 250 MT/day solvent extraction plant.

• Implemented process and equipment improvements to reduce electrical energy consumption.

• Replaced the Horizontal Belt Filter with a Rotary Drum Vacuum Filter (RDVF).

• The RDVF improvement achieved approximately 19% annual power reduction compared with the previous system.

• The project achieved an estimated ROI/payback period of 2.81 years.

• Improved process efficiency while recovering residual oil from Spent Bleaching Earth (SBE), which could contain significant residual oil.

5. Refinery Energy Optimization

• Managed energy-intensive operations in a 150 MT/day physical palm oil refinery.

• Optimized utilities including steam, thermal systems, cooling water, compressed air and electrical consumption.

• Integrated energy considerations into refinery process improvements and plant reliability initiatives.

• Worked on commissioning and optimization of refinery and utility systems.

6. Water and Utility Energy Conservation

• Implemented a Reverse Osmosis (RO) water system that reduced external water consumption by approximately 90–95%.

• Reduced the energy and utility burden associated with raw-water intake, treatment and water handling.

• Achieved an estimated ROI within four years.

• Integrated water conservation with broader utility and resource-efficiency objectives.

7. Utility System Optimization
Your experience covers optimization of major energy-consuming utilities, including:

• Boilers and steam systems

• Steam turbines

• Cooling towers

• Compressed-air systems

• Water-treatment systems

• RO systems

• Wastewater-treatment systems

• Electrical distribution and plant equipment

• Biomass fuel systems

8. Energy Efficiency Through Process Improvement
A significant part of your energy-conservation work has been achieved not simply by reducing equipment operating hours, but by improving process efficiency. Examples include:

• Equipment replacement with more energy-efficient technology.

• Process optimization.

• Reduction of unnecessary power consumption.

• Improved thermal-energy utilization.

• Better utilization of biomass and process residues.

• Improved equipment reliability and operating conditions.

• Monitoring energy performance against production requirements.

Overall Professional Summary

“Over two decades of practical energy-efficiency and energy-conservation experience across palm oil mills, solvent extraction plants, physical refineries and utility systems, covering steam and thermal energy optimization, biomass boiler efficiency, cogeneration, electrical energy reduction, water conservation, process-equipment optimization and utility management. Successfully implemented projects including RDVF technology resulting in approximately 19% power reduction, RO implementation reducing external water consumption by 90–95%, and steam-turbine/cogeneration initiatives aimed at substantially reducing grid electricity consumption.”

ENERGY AUDIT → ENERGY MONITORING → ENERGY OPTIMIZATION → ENERGY-CONSERVATION PROJECTS → ENERGY PERFORMANCE IMPROVEMENT

STORY 1130 — BECOMING A “RAIN SHAMAN” AT SUNGAI BOK

The journey to Loagan Bunut from Miri took almost three hours. The route passed through Bukit Lambir National Park, Simpang Bekenu, and eventually reached Beluru town. That was where the paved road ended.

From Beluru onward, the journey became a different kind of adventure. The road turned into a rough gravel track, full of potholes, dust, mud and unexpected challenges. By the time I reached Beluru, I would usually stop for a while—to use the restroom, buy some snacks, or simply take a short break before continuing the journey.

Sometimes, instead of stopping in Beluru, I would stop at the Petronas station at Simpang Bekenu to perform my Zuhur prayer. Since the journey was more than two marhalah, it had become my usual practice to perform Jamak and Qasar for Zuhur and Asar while travelling.

From Beluru, another 46 kilometres remained—nearly an hour of driving. And somewhere along that route was Sungai Bok.

Sungai Bok was not an ordinary river crossing.

The crossing was only about 30 metres wide, but during heavy rain, flooding or high tide, the entire stretch of road could disappear beneath two or three feet of water. For me, this became one of the most memorable lessons in learning how to drive a four-wheel-drive vehicle.

The first time I had to cross the flooded river, I listened carefully to the advice of my more experienced colleagues.

“Open the door slightly when crossing deep water.”

“Use low gear.”

“Never release the pressure on the accelerator.”

“Keep the engine running steadily, otherwise water may enter through the exhaust.”

And after crossing, always stop and check the air filter. If it had become wet, it needed to be dried immediately.

Some of my colleagues had even modified their vehicles by raising the air-intake pipe to a higher position. This simple modification made it safer to cross water that could reach two or three feet deep.

At the time, these seemed like practical tips for surviving a difficult journey.

Years later, I realised they were much more than that.

They were lessons in life.

In a remote palm oil mill, we learned not only about engineering and machinery. We learned to observe nature, understand the environment and respect the conditions surrounding the operation.

One of the routine practices in a palm oil mill was recording daily rainfall.

Every morning, the laboratory assistant would take the reading from the rain gauge and record the rainfall in millimetres in the daily operating report.

Initially, I regarded it simply as another routine piece of data.

But gradually, I began to realise how valuable that information was.

Rainfall could affect harvesting, transportation, fruit quality and ultimately the oil extraction rate. When heavy rain occurred, plantation operations could be disrupted. Fresh fruit bunches might not reach the mill according to schedule. Roads could become inaccessible, and transporters could face delays.

For a mill located beyond Sungai Bok, the consequences could be even greater.

Whenever flooding occurred, tankers carrying crude palm oil and palm kernels could become stranded. If the products could not be transported out of the mill, storage tanks would gradually fill up.

Eventually, rainfall was no longer just a number written in a daily report.

It became something I began to watch.

Something I began to study.

And, perhaps without realising it, something I became fascinated by.

Because of the frequent flooding at Sungai Bok, I started collecting monthly rainfall records. Year after year, the data accumulated.

Nearly ten years of rainfall records became my personal reference.

As I studied the data, I began noticing patterns.

Rainfall during the first and fourth weeks of the month generally appeared to be lower than during the second and third weeks. The pattern seemed to repeat itself from month to month and, to some extent, from year to year.

Then I noticed another interesting relationship.

Flooding at Sungai Bok seemed to occur more frequently around the middle of the lunar month and during the full moon.

Of course, rainfall alone was not the only factor.

Heavy afternoon and evening convectional storms could coincide with high tides from the river. When heavy rainfall and high tide came together, the relatively small river crossing could quickly become impassable.

Suddenly, the rainfall data became more than historical records.

It became a tool for planning.

By combining rainfall patterns, the lunar calendar, high tides and my observations of the river, I could make a reasonable prediction of when Sungai Bok was more likely to flood and when the road was more likely to remain passable.

I began sharing these observations with the transporters.

I advised them to concentrate more vehicles on the weeks when the risk of flooding was lower. If possible, they should avoid sending too many tankers around the middle of the Hijri month, particularly when the full moon coincided with heavy rainfall and high tide.

It was not a scientific weather forecast.

It was simply field experience supported by years of observation and data.

But surprisingly, it worked quite well.

The lesson followed me beyond the palm oil mill.

Whenever I organised outdoor activities, sports days or recreational programmes, I would also consider the same pattern. Whenever possible, I preferred the first or fourth week of the month and tried to avoid the second and third weeks, particularly around periods associated with heavy rain and high tides.

My colleagues eventually began to joke about it.

Because of Sungai Bok and my obsession with rainfall records, I had somehow become the “rain shaman.”

A dukun hujan.

I could almost imagine them thinking:

“Ask him. He will know whether it is going to rain.”

But behind the joke was something much more meaningful.

Working in a remote palm oil mill taught me that knowledge does not always come from textbooks, classrooms or formal training.

Sometimes, knowledge comes from standing beside a rain gauge every morning.

Sometimes, it comes from crossing a flooded river.

Sometimes, it comes from listening to an experienced colleague telling you not to release the accelerator.

And sometimes, it comes from patiently collecting small pieces of information for years until a pattern begins to reveal itself.

The Sungai Bok experience taught me the value of observation, data, experience and anticipation.

In engineering, we often solve problems after they happen.

But the better engineer learns to recognise the signs before the problem arrives.

For me, Sungai Bok was more than a dangerous river crossing.

It was my classroom.

The rain was my teacher.

The rain gauge was my instrument.

The river was my laboratory.

And the ten years of rainfall records became my textbook.

That was how, somewhere along the gravel road to Loagan Bunut, I unknowingly became the “Dukun Hujan of Sungai Bok.”

And that is my story today.

STORY 1129: RETIRE

My third palm oil mill in my second company was located about 120 km from Miri City, Sarawak. It sat beside Loagan Bunut National Park, not far from Long Lama, on the banks of the mighty Baram River that flows from the deep interior of Sarawak to Kuala Baram before meeting the South China Sea.

Getting there was an adventure in itself.

The road was mostly gravel, serving as the main route for logging trucks transporting timber to paper mills. Every now and then, a giant logging truck would thunder past. During the rainy season, the road turned into mud and potholes. During the dry season, clouds of dust covered every vehicle until it looked as though it had just driven through a swamp. Along that route were three palm oil mills, and mine was the second furthest from town.

Because of the long and exhausting journey, anyone visiting the mill almost always stayed overnight at the estate. As was common in plantation life, the mill manager's bungalow became a place to welcome guests. I actually enjoyed that, because I lived there alone most of the time. I always made sure visitors stayed as honoured guests rather than attempting the tiring drive back to Miri.

Every three months, I would receive a visit from a Professional Electrical Engineer who carried out the statutory electrical inspection required by the Energy Commission of Malaysia (Suruhanjaya Tenaga). After each inspection, he would submit his report to the Commission. My mill was usually his final destination after visiting the first mill along the same road.

Sometimes he brought chocolates for my children. It was a small gesture, but one that my family always appreciated.

That evening, as usual, we had dinner together. The estate canteen prepared fresh river fish caught from a nearby river, steamed in the simplest yet most delicious way. He was the owner of an electrical engineering consultancy company and was already in his early sixties.

At that time, I was only in my thirties.

Curious, I asked him, "Why don't you retire? You've reached retirement age. You've achieved so much in life."

He smiled before answering.

"Actually, I did try to retire."

After turning sixty, he handed over the company to his engineers to manage. His daughter was living in Australia, where she was pursuing her career as a professional tennis player. He flew there and spent a few weeks with her, expecting retirement to be relaxing and enjoyable.

Then he laughed.

"By the second week, I was already bored."

He said he missed his daily routine—the meetings, responsibilities, site visits, and the feeling of being needed. A life without challenges felt strangely empty.

I listened quietly.

The night was peaceful, accompanied only by the sound of crickets outside the bungalow, filling the silence of the plantation.

Then he gave me advice that I have never forgotten.

"You're still young. You have many commitments—housing loans, car loans, raising children, building your career, supporting your family, and dealing with life's endless challenges."

He paused before continuing.

"But when retirement comes, many of those challenges disappear. The loans are paid off. The children grow up. The responsibilities become lighter. And that's when life can start to feel... empty."

Then came the lesson.

"So plan your retirement wisely. And appreciate every challenge you're facing today. One day, those struggles will become beautiful memories. Challenges and trials give meaning to our lives."

His words stayed with me.

Whenever I was late paying my car loan, struggling with the house mortgage, or watching my savings disappear because of my children's needs and family responsibilities, I remembered his advice.

Instead of complaining, I chose to accept those challenges.

I believe every hardship carries wisdom. I believe every trial is part of Allah's plan for me to face, grow through, and become stronger because of it.

Today, years later, I understand what he meant.

Retirement is not simply about stopping work.

It is about having a life that still has purpose.

That’s my story today.

STORY 1128 — WORK–LIFE BALANCE

When I moved to Miri, Sarawak, in 2008, I met a colleague who would later become a good friend and an important influence in my professional life.

Our company operated two palm oil mills in Sarawak, and he was the Mill Manager at Kanawit, Sibu. Interestingly, he was also from Kelantan and married to a Sabahan from Labuan. Naturally, we had quite a lot in common.

But what really stood out about him was his sense of humor.

After more than twenty years in the industry, I believe every engineer needs one essential quality besides technical competence: a good sense of humor.

Our technical responsibilities are serious. We deal with machinery, steam, pressure, electricity, production targets, breakdowns, safety, and people. There is always something that can go wrong.

That is why humor matters.

Sometimes, a good laugh is not just entertainment. It is a way of releasing the pressure we carry.

My friend had previously worked in a palm oil refinery before joining the palm oil mill operation. That experience made him technically sharp and intellectually quick. He could discuss serious matters with great depth, yet suddenly turn a conversation into something hilarious.

One day, he asked me a question.

“What percentage of your commitment do you give to the company?”

I looked at his face. I couldn't tell whether he was being serious or making another joke. There was a smile on his face, which made the question even more difficult to interpret.

I answered confidently:

“My previous company was IOI. So my commitment is 101%.”

He immediately burst into laughter.

“Wow, boss! That's impressive. Mantap!”

Then I asked him the same question.

He became quiet for a moment.

Then he answered:

“At most, 75%.”

We both fell silent.

At that time, I thought his answer was simply another joke.

But strangely, I continued thinking about it for years.

Why 75%?

It took me years to truly understand what he meant.

We have 24 hours a day, seven days a week and 365 days a year. How much of that time should really belong to our company?

The answer is obvious.

Not 100%.

Work is only one part of life.

We have responsibilities to ourselves, our families, our faith, our health, our personal development, our communities, and ultimately, to God.

Every part of life has its own rights.

The lesson slowly changed the way I managed my time.

Working in a palm oil mill is not a normal nine-to-five job. A mill operates 24 hours a day, seven days a week. As engineers responsible for operations, we sometimes have to respond whenever the mill needs us.

At two in the morning, the phone might ring because someone needs approval for a critical operation.

On weekends, we may have to return to the mill to supervise high-risk work.

During festive seasons, we may still need to be at the mill because someone else deserves the opportunity to return home and celebrate with their family.

The cycle continues throughout the year.

That is simply part of being responsible for a 24/7 operation.

But outside those responsibilities, I began to realise that my life had other purposes too.

Whenever I had free time after working hours, I started investing it in myself, my family, my faith, and personal development.

During my four years in Miri, I completed the competency requirements for the First Grade Steam Engineer Certificate and the First Grade Internal Combustion Engine Engineer Certificate.

I also sat for LISP Level 1 and Level 2 examinations and continued my education by pursuing an MBA.

And whenever the weekend gave me some breathing space, I brought my family out to explore Sarawak.

We visited numerous national parks across the state. We joined activities organized by friends and acquaintances. We travelled, explored new places, met new people and experienced things that were completely outside the boundaries of my work.

And most importantly—

I enjoyed it.

Looking back today, perhaps that was what my friend meant when he said his commitment was only 75%.

It was never about giving less to the company.

It was about understanding that the company is not the whole of life.

Give your best to your work when you are at work.

But when you leave the workplace, remember that you are more than your job title.

You are a person.

You are a husband or wife.

You are a parent.

You are a friend.

You are a child to your parents.

You have a body that needs rest, a mind that needs learning, a soul that needs nourishment, and a family that needs your presence.

Work may pay the bills.

But life is much bigger than a payslip.

Perhaps true work–life balance is not about dividing our time equally.

It is about giving every responsibility its rightful place.

And sometimes, the wisest engineer in the room is the one who knows when to work at 100%—

and when to stop at 75%.

That simple conversation in Miri stayed with me for years.

Today, I understand it.

Work hard. Serve well. But never give your whole life to the company and forget to live.

That my story today.

STORY 1127 — OWNERSHIP

One day, the mill broke down.

The single-line EFB Scrapper Conveyor chain snapped, forcing the mill to stop. It happened just two hours after the morning operation had started.

Everyone was at the scene.

The Engineering Team, Mechanical Foreman, mill supervisors, and even the Mill Manager were there. The manager observed the situation and occasionally gave instructions.

At that time, I had only been a Cadet Engineer for three months.

There was not much I could do. I simply observed and watched everyone coordinate the repair activities.

A spare chain was taken from the store. The broken chain was removed and the replacement installed. LOTO was applied before any repair work began — both mechanical and electrical isolation.

Once everything was confirmed safe, the workers entered the EFB Scrapper Conveyor to carry out the repair.

It was a long process.

More than an hour had passed.

While the work was still ongoing, I started moving away from the scene and headed towards the Boiler Station. I spoke with the boilerman and, as usual, spent some time with him.

Not long after that, I saw the Mill Manager walking through the boiler area towards his office.

When he saw me, his face changed.

“What are you doing here?”

I was nervous and could not answer.

He continued:

“Everyone is busy at the EFB Conveyor, and you still have time to sit here and relax? Go back there!”

I said nothing.

I immediately returned to the EFB Conveyor and stayed with the team until the repair was completed.

The mill was eventually restarted and operated safely.

Only after the mill was back in operation did I leave for lunch — almost 2:00 p.m.

That happened in 2004.

Today, that memory reminds me of one word:

OWNERSHIP.

Today is Sunday.

I came to the mill to supervise a critical lifting operation involving an 18 MT load using a 100 MT capacity crane.

The HSSE Manager was there.

The Lifting Supervisor and riggers were there.

The Project Manager was there.

And, of course, the contractor team was ready — after waiting for almost two weeks for the opportunity to carry out this critical work.

This lifting operation is critical.

And I need to be there.

It does not matter whether it is a weekend, at night, or a public holiday.

When the responsibility is yours, you show up.

Nobody needs to shout.

Nobody needs to remind you.

Nobody needs to ask, “Where are you?”

Because you understand that the job is yours.

That is ownership.

Twenty-two years ago, I needed a manager to remind me.

Today, I remind myself.

Ownership is not about being told to be there.
Ownership is knowing that you need to be there — and showing up.

That is my story today.

#Leadership #Ownership #Engineering #Safety #HSSE #ProjectManagement #LiftingOperation #MillLife #LessonsFromExperience #BorneoRider

STORY 1126 — DIPOM: Stepping Beyond the Mill

After those early years in the palm oil mill, life began to move at a much faster pace.

I got married, welcomed my first child, and somehow, the loneliness I once felt in the plantation slowly disappeared. With my beloved wife by my side, life in the estate no longer felt strange or difficult. As the Malay saying goes, alah bisa tegal biasa—what is difficult at first eventually becomes familiar.

At work, managers came and went, and each new manager brought a different leadership style and a new opportunity to learn. I began to understand that managing a palm oil mill was not simply about machinery, production, and numbers. It was also about managing people—people from different backgrounds, personalities, cultures, and experiences.

Whatever happened at the management level often became the topic of conversation among the staff. To me, however, those stories were simply part of the daily journey—small episodes that carried valuable lessons.

I remained focused on one thing: what do I need to accomplish during my first five years in the industry?

Without realising it, I began setting my sights on two important goals.

The first was to obtain my Steam Engineer competency license, under the Department of Occupational Safety and Health (DOSH/JKKP).

The second was to enroll in DIPOM—Diploma in Palm Oil Milling Technology and Management, a program organized by the Malaysian Palm Oil Board (MPOB).

My interest in DIPOM grew even stronger because my second manager was a former top student of the program. I admired his knowledge and experience, and knowing that he had once excelled in DIPOM made me even more determined to follow the same path.

There was, however, one obstacle.

At that time, I was not the most senior assistant engineer. There was another engineer who had served longer than I did, and naturally, he would have priority to attend the course.

But life has its own way of opening doors.

When I was instructed to transfer to the second mill, that obstacle disappeared.

In 2007, I finally registered for DIPOM at PLASMA, Lahad Datu, Sabah.

At that time, the MPOB program was conducted alternately between MPOB Headquarters and PLASMA in Lahad Datu. Due to various developments in the following years, the training centre was eventually moved from Lahad Datu to MPOB Kota Kinabalu, where it continues today.

After more than four years of being almost completely surrounded by oil palm plantations, with the difficulties of travelling in and out of the estate, DIPOM felt like a window opening to the outside world.

For the first time in years, I had the opportunity to step beyond the boundaries of my own mill and discover the wider palm oil industry.

And it was an exciting time.

At the same time, I was already holding responsibilities in managing a palm oil mill. I had to balance everything—work, assignments, projects, travelling, study, and family.

Time management became essential.

So did knowing what to prioritize.

Stepping Out of the Shell

DIPOM was more than just a diploma to me.

It was like coming out of a shell.

I met people from the MPOB Training Unit who were highly knowledgeable and passionate about the industry. I met engineers from many of Malaysia's leading plantation and palm oil companies. More importantly, I met industry veterans—people who had spent decades building, improving, and developing the palm oil industry.

Their knowledge and stories opened my eyes.

They inspired me to remain committed to the industry from the very first day I joined the program.

The DIPOM program covered four major areas:

1. Palm Oil Technology

2. Engineering & Utilities

3. Mill Management

4. Industry, Environment & Sustainability

The objective was not simply to teach participants technical knowledge. It was designed to help us understand the development of the palm oil industry, research and development, management principles, environmental and sustainability issues, and the opportunities to engage directly with industry experts.

It was not a program where we simply sat in a classroom listening to lectures.

There were discussions, projects, assignments, practical sessions and examinations.

The program consisted of three semesters, covering a total of 20 days of study, with a final examination at the end of each semester. Assessment was based on 70% examinations and 30% projects and assignments.

For someone who loved learning new things, this was an exciting experience.

Previously, my world revolved around one mill.

DIPOM expanded that world.

I began to see the palm oil industry not as separate pieces, but as one interconnected chain—from upstream plantations to palm oil mills, refineries and the wider downstream industry.

I also had the opportunity to meet people from regulatory agencies such as JKKP and DOE. For the first time, I was not only looking at the industry from the perspective of my own company. I was seeing it through the eyes of people from other organizations, companies and sectors.

I made full use of the opportunity.

Whenever we had weekends off, I would visit mills belonging to my new friends. Each visit exposed me to different technologies, practices and ways of managing operations.

Every mill had a story.

Every engineer had something to teach.

Palm Oil Mill Design

One of the projects that captured my interest was Palm Oil Mill Design.

We were required to prepare a complete proposal for the development of a 60 MT/hour palm oil mill, starting from the feasibility study and project justification.

We had to consider almost everything.

How large should the supplying plantation be?

What should be the capacity of the mill?

How should the ramp, sterilizer, threshing system, digesters and presses be designed?

What about the boiler?

The turbine?

The clarification system?

The kernel recovery system?

The utilities?

Every major component had to be justified and calculated properly.

The calculations had to be accurate because a mistake in one part of the design could affect the performance, cost and viability of the entire mill.

I particularly enjoyed this subject because it was taught by Ir. Amin Buhari, a highly respected figure in the palm oil industry who had been involved in numerous new mill development projects within one of the country's prominent government-linked companies.

His experience made the subject come alive.

It was no longer just about formulas and engineering calculations.

It was about understanding why a particular design was selected.

That lesson stayed with me.

Seeing the Industry Differently

During the program, we also visited palm oil mills and refineries in the surrounding areas.

These visits gave us exposure to new technologies and, importantly, to the downstream sector.

Before DIPOM, my understanding of the industry was largely shaped by what I saw every day at the mill.

After DIPOM, I began to understand the bigger picture.

I started asking different questions.

Where does our crude palm oil go after it leaves the mill?

How is it refined?

What technologies are used downstream?

How do upstream decisions affect downstream quality?

How do engineering, economics, environmental requirements and sustainability come together?

DIPOM gave me the foundation to think beyond my immediate responsibilities.

Looking back, I believe this exposure played an important role in a decision I would make many years later.

After almost 15 years in the upstream sector, I eventually decided to move into downstream palm oil processing.

And, in many ways, the journey began with DIPOM.

More Than a Diploma

After completing all the learning requirements and examinations, I passed the program.

The following year, a grand diploma presentation ceremony was held in Sandakan, Sabah. At the same event, certificates were also presented to participants of the Palm Oil Mill Supervisor course.

The ceremony became another opportunity to meet people who were deeply involved in the industry.

I met experts from plantations, industry associations and NGOs supporting the palm oil sector.

Some of the friendships formed during DIPOM continued long after the course ended.

Among them were friends from FGV who later became my study-group partners when I prepared for the Grade 1 Steam Engineer examination.

That was another unexpected benefit of DIPOM.

It did not merely give me a certificate.

It gave me a network of people who shared the same passion for learning and improving themselves.

Giving Back

Today, when I look back at DIPOM, I consider it one of the most valuable program MPOB has ever offered to engineers in the palm oil industry.

It provides a strong foundation for engineers who will eventually take on greater responsibilities—as mill managers, technical leaders, plant managers and other professionals throughout the industry.

Ultimately, these people become part of the generation responsible for leading the Malaysian palm oil industry forward.

The knowledge shared by the industry experts left a deep impression on me.

Their experience gave me confidence.

Their stories gave me inspiration.

And their dedication reminded me that being part of the palm oil industry was more than simply having a job.

It was an opportunity to contribute to an industry that supports millions of people and plays an important role in the country's economy.

But perhaps the most meaningful part of the story came almost a decade later.

About ten years after I completed DIPOM, I received a call from MPOB.

They invited me to become a lecturer for several topics in the same program.

I was deeply touched.

The student who had once sat in the classroom, listening to experienced industry experts and absorbing everything he could, was now being invited to stand at the front of the classroom and share his own experience with the next generation.

It felt like life had come full circle.

What I had received a decade earlier, I was now given the opportunity to give back.

That, to me, was the true meaning of education.

Learn. Apply. Grow. Then give back.

Thank you, MPOB, for giving me the opportunity to step beyond my own little world and see the palm oil industry from a much wider perspective.

DIPOM did not merely teach me how a palm oil mill works.

It taught me to see the industry as a whole.

It introduced me to people who shaped my thinking.

It opened doors I did not know existed.

And, unknowingly, it planted the seed that would eventually take me from upstream to downstream.

Most importantly, it taught me that knowledge becomes more meaningful when it is shared.

May the Malaysian palm oil industry continue to grow, innovate and contribute to the world.

That is my story today.

During the ceremony, represent the batch to give speech. 

First time meet Tn. Hj. Ghafar, MPOA Sabah Chairman during the ceremony.

With my wife during the ceremony and dinner.

With all friends that attending the ceremony in 2008.

After giving lecture to DIPOM Batch 2023 at MPOB Kota Kinabalu

STORY 1125 — MONKEY MANAGEMENT

One day, our palm oil mill was visited by the HSSE Director from the United States. During his visit, he sought feedback on various safety-related matters. Among the issues raised were delayed tasks caused by gaps in competency and, more importantly, a lack of ownership among some of the team members.

He then introduced a term that caught my attention:

“Monkey Management.”

I was intrigued by the expression. After the visit, I went on to read and learn more about what monkey management really meant and how it applied to leadership and management.

The following day, I shared what I had learned with several engineers at work.

A year passed.

Then, somehow, the concept brought me back to my first year of working in my first palm oil mill—almost 22 years ago.

One day, my manager called me into his office. He asked me to prepare a letter to be sent to the Department of Environment regarding an issue that needed attention.

Without wasting any time, I returned to the engineers' office and started typing the letter on the desktop computer.

The engineers' office was separated from the weighbridge office, while the manager's office had a glass wall overlooking the engineers' room.

A few minutes after I started typing the first paragraph, I was called back into the manager's office.

As usual, he looked at me with a rather serious expression and asked,

“What are you doing?”

For a moment, I froze.

I replied, “I'm writing the letter you asked me to prepare, Sir.”

He looked at me and said:

“Why didn't you ask the clerk in the office to do it? Why are you typing it yourself? If you are going to do everything yourself, then we might as well get rid of all the clerks sitting in that office!”

Sharp.

Very sharp.

I did not say a word. I lowered my head and walked out of his office.

His words stayed with me.

They made me think deeply about the responsibilities of every individual within an organisation.

There are always plenty of reasons we can give ourselves.

“This letter is important, so I should do it myself.”

“If I ask the clerk to do it, I'll probably have to correct it several times.”

“It will be faster if I just do it myself.”

And eventually:

“Never mind. I'll just do it myself.”

Sometimes, especially when we are young and inexperienced, more senior staff or clerks may give us a thousand reasons why a simple task should not be delegated. And because we want things done quickly and correctly, we take the easy way out—we do the work ourselves.

The problem is that this habit can follow us as our careers progress.

As our positions become more senior, our responsibilities increase. Yet instead of developing our people and allowing them to take ownership, we continue doing their work ourselves.

Without realising it, we become collectors of “monkeys.”

One monkey comes from one person.

Another monkey comes from another department.

Another problem is passed to us.

Another task that should belong to someone else somehow ends up on our desk.

Before long, we are carrying a whole troop of monkeys on our shoulders.

And then we wonder why we are so busy.

Monkey Management is not about refusing to help people. It is about understanding who should own the problem.

A good manager does not simply take the monkey away.

A good manager teaches the person how to manage it.

That day, almost 22 years ago, I did not know anything about monkey management.

I was only a young cadet engineer, barely three months into my career.

But my manager had already given me one of the most valuable lessons in management:

Do not do everything yourself. Give people responsibility. Give them ownership. Let them learn.

Twenty-two years later, a simple conversation with an HSSE Director reminded me of that lesson.

Sometimes, the best management lessons are not found in management books.

They come from a manager looking through a glass wall and asking:

“Why are you doing it yourself?”

That was my lesson in Monkey Management.

That is my story tonight.

STORY 1123 — ISO 9001: A Lesson That Stayed With Me for 20 Years

My second company was a GLC that had been in the industry for more than 100 years and had, more recently, celebrated its 200th anniversary.

It was also my first time setting foot in Miri, Sarawak — the beginning of another chapter in my life, this time in one of the two Borneo states.

At that time, my boss was a middle-aged man who was exceptionally calm, experienced and wise. He was Javanese, and perhaps that was also reflected in the gentle way he spoke. Whenever I listened to him, it felt almost like listening to a father speaking to his son.

Every word carried wisdom.

I spent almost a year working deep in Kuala Baram, nearly three hours from Miri. After having worked in the interior of Sabah, I found myself once again moving deep into the interior of Sarawak.

To reach the mill, we had to travel about 120 km from Beluru towards Long Lama. From the Beluru junction onwards, much of the road was gravel rather than paved. At Sungai Bok, there was a stretch of about 30 metres on the main road that frequently flooded during the rainy season and high tide.

After more than 20 years in the palm oil industry, I now realise how grateful I am for those first 10 years of my career.

I deliberately took on assignments in places where, as we used to joke, "ghosts and spirits were the only neighbours."

Those experiences taught me something that has stayed with me until today: to appreciate whatever blessings come our way.

If we have a reliable vehicle, a good road, and can safely reach our destination, that itself is a tremendous blessing.

Somewhere else, there are people struggling just to reach a destination to find food, go to school, or get to a hospital.

The Visiting Engineer

Every three months, my Javanese boss would make a routine visit as the Visiting Engineer.

I can confidently say that the visiting system, followed by a comprehensive report and systematic follow-up, was one of the best management systems I learned during my career.

He would spend almost a week at the mill, conducting detailed inspections — from individual stations and plant operations to the monthly financial reports.

Only later did I realise that this company was also among the early companies whose palm oil mills were all certified to ISO 9001.

For a palm oil mill located deep in the interior to have had an ISO 9001 certification system since the 1990s was, in my view, something remarkable.

That was where I first gained exposure to ISO 9001.

Every year, internal auditors from other mills would visit to conduct audits. The findings and reports were shared across all operating units.

This created another valuable opportunity: I got to meet colleagues from other mills and learn how different mills operated.

During his mill inspections, my boss would walk through the plant and point out areas that needed attention. Follow-up actions would then be initiated, and the responsible teams were expected to close them properly.

The system created discipline.

And without realising it at the time, I was beginning to develop a deep interest in management systems and ISO certification.

The Training That Changed My Direction

One of the elements I particularly liked about ISO 9001 was the emphasis on training and competency.

And I genuinely enjoyed training people.

Through training others, I gradually improved my own communication and leadership skills.

More importantly, training had to be properly recorded and documented. Those records later became valuable references during audits by regulatory and certification bodies such as JKKP, DOE, RSPO and ISCC.

To become an internal auditor, formal training was required.

But once again, my boss gave me advice that was far more valuable than I realised at the time.

He suggested that I attend ISO 9001 Lead Auditor training, rather than limiting myself to internal auditor training.

The difference was significant — three days versus five days.

I followed his advice.

At that time, the company only approved training for internal auditors. So I made a personal decision to invest in myself.

I paid for the ISO 9001 Lead Auditor course with my own money, flew from Miri to Shah Alam, and took annual leave to attend the five-day program.

It turned out to be one of the best long-term investments I have ever made.

The course was conducted by an international trainer, and it gave me a much broader understanding of ISO 9001 and management systems.

From ISO 9001 to Integrated Management Systems

In 2015, I joined another company — a newly commissioned solvent extraction plant and refinery.

I was involved in commissioning the various plant units and subsequently in obtaining several important certifications required by the business model, including:

ISO 9001, GMP, Halal, Kosher and ISCC.

Over the following years, I also helped another company establish and obtain certifications for ISO 14001 and ISO 18001, covering environmental and occupational safety management.

Eventually, these systems were integrated into an Integrated Management System (IMS) covering quality, safety and environmental management.

Did I have previous experience with all of these systems?

No.

I didn't.

But I had something more fundamental — a strong foundation in ISO 9001.

That foundation became the platform upon which I built my understanding of other management systems.

Twenty Years Later

Looking back, I realise that some of the most important lessons in my career did not come from a classroom.

They came from a quiet, experienced boss who patiently showed me how a good management system should work.

At the time, I did not know that his advice would influence my career for the next 20 years.

I did not know that paying for that five-day Lead Auditor course myself would open doors to a completely different area of professional development.

And I certainly did not know that the simple discipline of inspection, documentation, training, auditing and follow-up would eventually become such an important part of my career.

Sometimes, we meet people who only become significant when we look back.

My former boss was one of those people.

His wisdom did not always come in long speeches.

Sometimes, it came in a simple recommendation.

Sometimes, it came through the way he conducted an inspection.

And sometimes, it came through the quiet example he set every day.

A good boss gives you instructions.
A great mentor gives you a foundation that continues to serve you long after you have left his organisation.

Twenty years later, I am still benefiting from the wisdom of that man.

And for that, I remain deeply grateful.

That is my story today.