I Sent A Debt Collector After A Friend

Zahir was boyish, affable and doe-eyed. He had a nice speaking voice.  I remember losing any irritation I had with him when he would finally pick up my call, always pleasant and a laugh at the end of his sentence. If he shed 8kgs and showed off that jawline, he’d be a looker.

We became friends through a local film director (Abang Mior), who at the commencement of the friendship just finished wrapping up a film. Zahir had been given an important position in the production, for his connections with politicians. I on the other hand was the subtitlist for the film

Zahir was a young man from the West Coast with a career in politics. None of us were really sure what he did, but it soon became known that he was the person with connections. He name-dropped a lot and posted photos with the Prime Minister and other weighty names in the new government. The crew were impressed by his façade, regaling me with the things they saw him do. They would tell me, “He’s the youngest person to be on the Board of Directors of an organization,” or “He’s legit someone in politics.”

Zahir would often post photos of his baby daughter and write Facebook statuses that weren’t ultra-orthodox although he was by all means, a very committed Muslim. I remember thinking as I scrolled past his posts, that he was performing for someone. I wonder now if he was performing for people like me.

The Misfortune of Knowing Him

It all started when I was looking for sponsors for the funding of my own film. Crew members gave me Zahir’s number and I texted him asking for a contact. His initial reply was almost submissive; the provincial language in his texting style aggravating the inferiority he seemed to have, as if he didn’t want to step on my toes. His possessiveness with his contact discouraged me from pursuing the contact and I dropped it. That was that.

A few weeks later, I visited Abang Mior in his office. On that day, students from a religious university had been invited to hear Abang Mior speak and I was waved in to take a seat. I said hello to the crew, many of whom I recognized. I had come inappropriately dressed, in my sleeveless tank and black yoga pants right after a Pilates class. After a few minutes of sitting and feeling rather uncomfortable in my activewear, I left the room of headscarves and conservative men and hung out in Abang Mior’s office.

It was then while I was lazily browsing a book on Abang Mior’s table that Zahir entered the room and started a conversation. I don’t remember how he started; all I remember is how much talking he did and how much he was going on about his achievements.

Zahir wasn’t your regular 30-year-old. He knew I was looking for funds for a film, and he suggested with a lot of optimism how I would be able to get it through a government agency. “The organization I’ve been with has been getting it every year,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a problem for you.” My interest was piqued and that was mistake number one. Desperation in searching for funds made me easy prey and susceptible to the likes of Zahir.

He began building my trust, showing me photos of the rallies he’d organize in Malaysia and how he was at the beck and call of the most powerful people in government. I listened with half a ear while giving him obligatory “wows.” I am not naïve. I was familiar with men massively exaggerating their careers. What I was not familiar with was how easily people lie to your face.  I had no idea I was communing with a sociopath.

Zahir and me were soon texting each other. He became that new regular person on my Whatsapp list. When I texted him a few days later about my film proposal, he told me he had spoken to the First Finance Minister. Later, when pretending to get me an appointment, he said he was friends with the Minister’s two male personal assistants.

But Zahir wasn’t stellar. He was unreliable on texts, and very hard to get. Everything moved slowly with him. He was always somewhere with a Minister doing “groundbreaking things.” The name dropping never ended. I set out to the Ministry of Finance by myself and found out the Minister’s assistant was in fact a female. When I checked with Zahir, he had an excuse. “Yes, that’s the official PA,” he said knowingly. “But the one who really goes round with him are my friends.” He lied pathologically like that. I believed him.

His fund idea which seemed so promising during Abang Mior’s event fizzled out fast.  Zahir couldn’t see it through. I was fed up and after a few weeks of pursuing an obvious dead end, I gave it up. All that easy talk about getting through the government agency never materialized. Zahir was wasting my time. In truth he hadn’t done anything about my proposal. He let me go through all the trouble of sending a proposal without highlighting it to any officer or assistant in the ministry. His inefficiency foiled his plans in convincing me he was some big shot in politics.

This episode left me wary of him and he knew it. He had to do something. He didn’t wait long.

A few weeks later during Chinese New Year, he called. “I know how you can get the funds,” he said. He had spent the day before with another politician telling him about my proposal. I wouldn’t have believed him except that the politician he spoke too was a close friend of mine 3 years ago. “Did you know that Eddy is best friends with the Finance Minister?” he asked.  I didn’t. But my interest was again piqued. Again, my over-zealous desire to find funds left me susceptible to Zahir’s wiles.

When I called Eddy, he verified that he was indeed good friends with the Finance Minister and that Zahir had explained my proposal to him As we chatted, I asked him about Zahir and Eddy mentioned instances where Zahir was unreliable and unable to deliver. He laughed saying Zahir was likely saying yes to many things because of political ambition. All in all, the consensus was that Zahir was just unreliable but generally harmless.

By getting Eddy to help me, Zahir had salvaged himself in my eyes. I admit to feeling touched that Zahir went out of his way for me. Little did I know what was coming.

The Lies, The Lies

It was that time of the year where our national television channel (RTM) opened its’ doors for drama and telemovie applications. TV producers around the country furiously competed to submit proposals to RTM. I was one of them. I had written a story and was roaring to see it come to fruition. 2021 and 2022 hadn’t been great years for me career-wise. I was dejected and jaded. But I was also hungry and driven to land myself a project in 2023. Never had I wanted a project more than I wanted RTM. That’s when Zahir initiated Step 2 of his plan.

Zahir and me were quite friendly on the phone by then, and had even met once for iced latte. As always, the conversation centered around his achievements and his derisive remarks of the state of politics. He was a know-it-all, but I let him because I wasn’t familiar with the workings of local politics and murky minds. I mostly listened, wondering what he was up to seeking out my friendship, oddly amused.

Boy, was he smart.

One day, Zahir called telling me he would be seeing RTM. He had connections with decision makers and asked for my RTM proposal. He could help highlight my proposal.  “For real?” the dumb me asked. “Yes, I’m also taking Abang Mior’s proposal. Give me yours! I’ll pass it to them the next day when I have my meeting with the RTM people.” he said.

I wasn’t going to pass up on this opportunity even if some people were going to question my ethics. In hindsight, him packaging Abang Mior did a lot to sustain my belief in him. Abang Mior is one of my most trustable friends, and it never occurred to me that Abang Mior would be in the company of a shady liar; unknowingly of course.

I wasted money printing my thick proposal in colour and met him in Citta Mall along with Abang Mior and two other crew members. Zahir was as usual 1.5 hours late. Someone remarked that he was driving an Audi now. I passed him my proposal. We had a very nice time chatting that day. His wife and baby daughter appeared after a while and Zahir went over to coo at his daughter.

I asked about his meeting with RTM tomorrow, asking if he would also be meeting the newly appointed chief at RTM by any chance. Zahir said yes. At that time too, I was holding a business proposal belonging to my good friend Azrai. We had both been trying to land an appointment with the new RTM chief. I quickly texted Azrai, “Do you want me to pass your business proposal to Zahir? He can help pass it to the new guy.” Immediately I got a call from Azrai. “Are you with Zahir?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, quickly stepping away from the table. “Do not give him my proposal. Do not!” he said vehemently. “Whoever he’s meeting tomorrow isn’t in KL. I have my sources. Zahir’s lying.”

I was a little irritated with Azrai. Bit over-the-top there eh. “Eh this political people, even mountains can fly with them,” texted Azrai. I rolled my eyes. So much for trying to help.  I was familiar with government officials having a haphazard schedule and I didn’t think much of Zahir’s inconsistency. Months later, Azrai would reference this back to me, how we had actually caught Zahir in a lie then.

Zahir likely did nothing with my proposal. It was all just part of his scheme to win my trust.

And then Zahir swooped in.

He had a project with TV Sarawak that needed funding. He asked if he could loan RM100,000 from me. He would repay me in a month along with interest. For the last five years, I have been a local drama and telemovie funder, so I was used to people coming to me with offers like this. It had been lucrative for me until last year. I had always been lucky to loan to trustable people who honoured their agreements. But last year had been bad. Three TV producers who took loans from me hadn’t paid me back and it caused me massive stress. I had told Abang Mior about it, and Abang Mior had told Zahir. I think that was where the lights went blinking in his head. Lin Dee was easy prey. She’s a nice girl and obviously not a very good debt collector.

When Zahir asked me for the funding, he empathized with my situation. He proposed that to build my trust, I loan him RM40,000 first.  He would pay me back within 3 days. And we would ask Abang Mior to be our witness. “We trust Abang Mior don’t we?”

I’m repeating myself by now but out of desperation for a project, I agreed to Zahir’s proposal. Loaning funds to a TV producer means I get some interest, some income. I have many friends who shake their heads at my recklessness but in defense, I’m used to doing this as a funder. The amount Zahir asked for didn’t intimidate me because I’ve been loaning those amounts and more for years. It’s less scary and less of a risk for me. I concede though that I did too little due diligence and was too trusting of Zahir.

Zahir showed me the letter by TV Sarawak awarding his shell company a project. He had in the past bragged to me about being the Director of many shell companies, courtesy of his ministerial connections.  I drafted out an agreement between us. And I added a new clause in the agreement. “If the borrower fails to return the amount of money to the lender, the lender will engage the services of a debt collector.” I made sure that was obvious to Zahir. We both laughed about it.

So Abang Mior signed the agreement and I banked in RM40,000 to Zahir. Three days later, he banked in RM20,000 to me and brought RM20,000 in cash to my house. Somehow the dodginess of this triggered something in me. I knew there and then that he was just doing this to gain my trust. He didn’t need RM100,000, he just needed RM60,000. It was a tactic. Perhaps too, this is all only very clear in hindsight. A few days later he asked if he could get the remainder RM60,000. I banked in the money to him.

He came to my house a few days later saying that the money would only be returned 3 months later. “What?” I asked. He apologized profusely. Still, I wasn’t nervous because I’m used to TV producers asking for extension due to them receiving payments late from the TV station.

In the months that followed, Zahir would come to me with plenty of project opportunities. He would call me while I was driving explaining technical details of a government project, asking if I could find funders. All in all, I along with my friends introduced 3 promising and some hard-to-get business owners to him. Zahir never made anything happen. One time, my friend G got the CEO of a company to meet Zahir during the fasting month. The appointment was 10am and Zahir never showed up. He made them wait till noon and his phone went unanswered despite dozens of calls. Hours later, he sent a sheepish text saying he had to attend to a relative’s death in a hospital.

He was full of lies that way, and I learned to call him 20 times to get him to come for a meeting. I suppose I hung on because his project offerings were big and lucrative, and there was the hope that something would happen. I just learned to accept that he was unreliable and unpunctual but he was always so nice and promising on the phone.

Excuses and Tall Tales

Each time I asked him about my debt, the date would get pushed. Each time he had a lengthy detailed explanation for why it was delayed. He told me TV Sarawak did not operate under federal funding and required criterias which federal states did not have to go through. He would send me numbered points on what was happening with my money. And he would always give me a specific date on when money would come in. He would always pick up my call and speak to me for 30 minutes explaining the money delay. I had no reason not to believe him. I actually complained to him about the difficulty of getting my money back from another TV producer and how I was looking for a debt collector. Zahir said he could introduce debt collectors to me. That’s how good he was.

And then we would go on to chat about other things. Zahir knew all my buttons. He knew what I disliked about the state of the country and he knew just what to say. We even talked close to an hour one time. This conversation really made us seem like friends and it served as a huge source of relief for the late payment for my debt. Zahir was showing me he was trustable. Mainly, he took all my calls and texts when I asked about my debt. This was his modus operandi to keep me from distrusting him.

But by the seventh month, I was getting fed up. He had given me yet another elaborate explanation and promise that my debt would be settled by September. Nothing. And when I implied, I no longer believed him, he had the gall to show me some displeasure. A few days later he told me RTM Sarawak had paid him and that meant I could get my money. He called me to say his company secretary was handling it, and I would be getting it next week. I asked if he could send me transaction proof and he said sure. As usual it didn’t come. He promised a specific date. This time, I extra held him to it.

RTM results were out. My proposal did not get chosen. But by then, I knew better than to ask Zahir. I knew by then he wasn’t who he said he was. He was just the errand boy for politicians, without any clout.  Yes, he got the photo opportunities and worked in close proximity with them, but he was definitely not in their ear nor their sphere of influence.

While I did not get my story chosen, I had landed a Syndication (foreign program supplying) project with RTM which was lucrative and just as competitive to get. It was supposed to be a happy day when I made my way to RTM to get my official letter, but it turned out to be a day of trepidation and anger. Zahir promised my money would be paid this same day itself. I had a bad feeling. Instead of basking in this glorious spate of luck, I spent the day refreshing my bank account like a mad person. And of course nothing. I was not able to enjoy my RTM achievement because I was mad-obsessed with my money not returning.

I sent Zahir an angry text. Two days before he had sent me a photo of himself in hospital looking pained. It was a rather personal photo and I can only assume this was his tactic to further gain my trust. But I was angry now, and sick or not, I wanted my money back. He sent me a long understanding text, saying how angry he was that his company secretary messed things up. He asked me to enjoy my happy day, to celebrate my RTM project and not to worry. He would settle it. He had his way with words.

This went on for 2 more weeks. He blamed his company secretary and gave long confusing explanations. He would say there was a miscommunication between the bank and his company secretary and send me faked forwarded messages from them. He told me if his company secretary could not pay in time, he would mortgage his car and his office belongings to pay me back.

“But why do you have to mortgage?” I asked. “You said TV Sarawak had paid you. How hard can it be to transfer money out from one bank to the other?” His new excuse was that the company secretary was his friends and they were incompetent.

When I asked to go to the bank with him, he refused, saying he would settle it after finishing his work in Parliament. He gave me a date again and it was never met. Finally, on Oct 3, (the date he claimed was the very final date), I reached my limit.

I told him I needed my money for another project. I told him how much he was inconveniencing and stressing me by not settling this seemingly simple task of getting my money to me.  He kept saying if he had it his way, he would have long settled it, and that he never meant to trouble me. He send me wounded texts about me not trusting him and reminded me that he paid me RM40,000 promptly the first time and how he always kept me in the know about my money.

The Stress Of Not Being Paid Your Money

The experience of borrowing big amounts of money and not getting it back is a kind of sick stress that darts from anger to worry. I had been experiencing this for almost 2 years and Zahir was the last straw. I had recently engaged a debt collector to collect from a Sabah TV Producer. From the reports I was getting, my debtor was shaken and starting to behave. My Sabah debt collector gave me updates that made me see how collecting debts were done. It’s not the nicest thing, but it is unfortunately the less-pleasant things that make a person pay up. Anything other than that, and you get a Zahir. They take you for granted and they never make any effort to pay.

On Oct 3, I got a long text from Zahir telling me how sorry he was and how mad I must be. This time he told me his company secretary was taking him for a ride. He asked me for 1 more week. He would mortgage everything and pay me back. He asked for one last change. I did not reply. Hours later he texted me, pleading me to please say something. He seemed so sincere, so desperate for my approval.

I gave him one final chance, but mentally I decided I could not go on like this anymore. I considered Zahir a friend. I struggled with reconciling the fact that Zahir was my friend and having to use a debt collector on him.

What made it easy was what happened next.

A day before Zahir’s deadline, I texted asking if the money was coming in. Zahir called. In a somber voice, he told me he had started the process of mortgaging his car. He told me he had a poultry factory which he was renting out. And then he told me he met Abang Mior the night before to ask for RM20,000. He did that hoping he could help get funds to pay me back. He also asked to use Abang Mior’s company secretary and after that in a spirit of goodwill, gave Abang  Mior RM500. Our old camaraderie returned. Zahir and I ended the conversation feeling pleasant with each other.

I don’t know why, but suddenly I had the urge to check with Abang Mior. If anything, I trust Abang Mior wholeheartedly.

I texted Abang Mior asking if he met Zahir the night before. Yes he did. They chatted for a long while.

I asked if Zahir asked him about using his company secretary? “No, we were just catching up,” Abang Mior replied. I felt a cold grip in my heart.

And then I asked if Zahir asked him for RM20,000. Abang Mior was shocked. “Zahir wants 20,000 for helping with my film?” The icy grip in my heart tightened.

I asked if Zahir gave him RM500? This time Abang Mior seemed exasperated. Nothing of the sort!

My head began to spin and a coldness descended throughout my body.

When I put the phone down, my world was reeling. Zahir had been lying to me all along. Suddenly I felt as if I didn’t know him. Fear broke out. Who had I been talking too?

I thought back of all the excuses and all his past behavior. He lied so effortlessly and so nonchalantly. He lied about having panic attacks, he lied about someone dying, he lied about his wife and him growing apart and he lied about his position in Sarawak.  He knew human psychology and had the straight face and emotional fortitude to back up his lies. He could tell me the money was coming and then laugh with me over a separate matter. He was a sociopath.

Enough Was Enough

The day of the deadline came and sure enough, another excuse came. He told me he was in Kepong collecting money. He needed a day or two. He actually sounded cheeky. He thought he had won me over again. I looked at my phone for a long while and my fingers hovered on the keyboard. It was hard to type, but my mind was made up now. I sent him a message. “I regret lending you money and you have troubled me massively. I will no longer be asking from you anymore. Someone else will do it on my behalf.”

Zahir replied me like a frantic, frightened child asking me not to be this way. Long and ranty. I did not reply.  Hours later, another pleading text telling me not to use a debt collector, and that if I couldn’t think of him, could I at least think of his baby daughter?

A week went by. Two weeks. Three weeks? Zahir’s initial fear had disappeared by now. He didn’t think I had it in me to stay mad at him or to use a debt collector. He sent me a text asking how I was. He said all the right things like he usually did and how he was going to pay me back as soon as possible. And he ended with “God Bless You.”

I guess he thought my anger had dissipated and I was being meek and passive. Except I wasn’t.

I had to control myself from the anger that bubbled in me as I read his self-righteous message. The gall of him taking my hard-earned money and not paying me back.

What he didn’t know was that I had been taking my time looking for a legit debt collector. There are many scam debt collectors out there and I didn’t want to be scammed again. Debt collectors take 50% and I was more than ready to give that away. For everyone shocked at that amount, I will say this. 50% is better than 0; and perhaps more than anything, I wanted to teach Zahir a lesson.

I wanted someone aggressive, really batshit badass and committed to getting the full amount back.

Taizi

My momma low-key knew I was dabbling with some debt collector business through some of the phone calls I was making, although I downplayed it to prevent her from worrying. One morning when I awoke, she sent me a forwarded video about a debt collector. The caption accompanying it said “The new methods of debt collecting.” Little did she know how significant that video was to me.

The video showed a man and 3 other people walking to a house with a loudspeaker and speaking in 3 different languages asking for money. It was an exercise in humiliation that did not incur violence. Next to the three men was a bunting with the debt collector’s company name and contact details. I screenshot it.

I made the call.

Taizi was brisk-sounding, and no-nonsense. “Can you help me collect a debt?” I asked in Mandarin. “Yes,” he replied. “Come to my office in JB.”

And so the following week, I drove 4 hours away to JB with a flask of coffee and music in the car. I met my godbrother in JB who followed me to see Taizi. We arrived at his address and it was an upstairs shoplot in a decidedly older part of town. A big signboard with Taizi’s company name rang loud in that otherwise humble square. There wasn’t anything menacing there. We rang the bell repeatedly. Nothing.

I called Taizi. “Meet me in the Chinese temple,” he said.

It was a peculiar day as I got out the car. Men and woman in ancient Chinese costumes walked past me.  There seemed to be a convoy of some brotherhood and a special event happening in that temple. This strange affair of men in outfits from a Dynasty-past added to the flair of meeting Taizi.

A black car appeared and a rather hip looking guy in his thirties emerged. He wore a black V-neck, joggers and a cap. The one thing detracting from the coolness was the pronounced tummy. That can’t be Taizi.

But it was. He sauntered over, business-like and fast-talking.

Taizi had an alpha quality and a demeanour that was cut in aggression. He had been collecting bad debts and playing rough for years. As he matured and now had a daughter, a conscience developed. He had now set up his own debt collecting company and wanted to do things better. Legal and clean.

I was limited by my Mandarin and mainly asked my godbrother to communicate my Zahir story.

“Zahir is in politics,” I told Taizi. “Even better,” he replied unfazed. “Make sure you don’t get soft-hearted. If Zahir comes to you with a sob story of his wife or grandma, you have to ignore it. He will ask you to stop using me.”

“I promise you that won’t happen,” I said.

“Women tend to be soft-hearted,” said Taizi.

I had never been face-to-face with a debt collector and I suppose I was fascinated by Taizi’s experience. My enthusiastic listening and responses caught his attention. I noticed him coming alive and regaling us with more stories. Perhaps the alpha in him wanted to impress the female client in front of him.

I left the temple feeling happy. The months of worrying about Zahir lifted. I had outsourced my problem to Taizi and he had agreed to take it on.

The following day, I went to the police station with Taizi’s boys to lodge a police report as advised by Taizi. After that, I paid a deposit to Taizi, packed my bags and headed back to KL.

The Collection

2 weeks later

“When are you going to collect from Zahir?” I asked Taizi via WeChat, his preferred platform of communication.

“I’m coming down to KL this week,” he told me.

I went on with my life, but this time with so much less burden.

And then one day when. I was driving back home in the evening, Zahir rang. I let it ring, refusing to pick up. The text came.

Taizi’s boys had contacted Zahir. There was fear in Zahir’s text. He was obviously trying to be brave, and he remained his civil, nice self to me. He didn’t seem angry at me, though I suspect he was putting on a front of bravery.

Excuses about his sick child, his wife being pregnant. They meant nothing to me by now.

I never replied. Taizi’s advice to me was not to reply him anymore.

One week later, Taizi called me. “Zahir is a pain in the ass. I’m forcing him to bank the first amount tomorrow because if I don’t, he won’t bank it in.” That sounded like Zahir alright.

I wasn’t confident that Taizi would get it. Infact I almost felt bad that I had brought on a terrible debtor to Taizi.

It was out of my hands anyway.

I went back to visit Momma out-of-state the next day. I was sitting on the sofa when my bank sent me a notification. A sum of money had been banked to me. My mouth fell open. A Wechat message from Taizi followed, sending me a Maybank receipt. Oh my God! Zahir actually paid! The gravity of the situation hit me. This was real. To see money actually enter my account felt like coins from heaven after so much outflow.

I immediately send a fawning hero-worship message of thanks to Taizi. I had obviously stroked a masculine g-spot. He replied amused and clearly happy.

In 1.5 months, Taizi collected everything from Zahir. He never told me the details of what he did, but I do know there was an incident where Zahir’s family called the police and Taizi handled it. Taizi only told me that he used many ways to collect the money back. Nothing else.

Still, Taizi was far from perfect. He took a long while to bank in the money to me, staggering the payments. He was in the police lockup for 2 days where he couldn’t answer his phone and I almost thought I was being scammed again.  I learnt that debt collectors really are of a different moral fibre and often fall in trouble with the law. They live in a world of untruths and lies. They live in a dark world of excess and shady businesses. Is it any wonder that sometimes Taizi was less than truthful to me? But Taizi always replied my texts fast and I got almost all my money back in a couple months.

I think Taizi faced a lot of financial problems himself dealing with his new business and navigating the police and other unsavoury characters. Still, I remain utterly grateful to him, and he showed me that he was absolutely stellar in what he did.

I’ve dealt with 2 other debt collectors since Taizi, and none come close to the speed of his collection.

Shockingly Zahir wasn’t mad at me. He actually made a friendship attempt after everything was done. He sent me a friendly text. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him for what he did. For the months of stress and most of all, the lies. Zahir was in no way going to value-add me. I was further shocked when I saw him running for some internal party elections. I breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t succeed.

I unfriended Zahir on Facebook after that.

People get taken aback when they find out I engage debt collectors. Local news portrays borrowers as victims and debt collectors as heartless thugs. The truth is quite the opposite.

You borrow money. You return it. It’s that simple.

Zahir and me no longer speak

Taizi still owes me RM4700. Out of the blue, when he has money, he banks in a random sum to me.

I now use a lawyer when I loan funds.

I pointedly tell borrowers, “If you do not return me the money, I will sue you and use a debt collector.”