Pot of Gold… Not

Essentially, I’m just referring to my job search because I have to hold a job in order to earn my first pot of gold.  Yea, I know there are others out there who just speculate in shares and what-nots to get there, but that kind of lifestyle is just not for me.

Things have not been going too well.  I’ve gone for 3 interviews, of which 2 I really was not very interested in.  So I was glad when I didn’t nail either of them.  The 3rd one I was rather into it although it required me to travel 25km per way just to get to work.  Some things have transpired along the way, and I think they are just still two-minded about my candidature.  I’m not wasting time waiting for an outcome but honestly, I think the organisation has been rather rude.  So much for a world-class tertiary institution.

The rest of my applications are still hanging there because that particular sector (where I belonged to prior to my sabbatical) is notorious for their slow processing.  But the wait is just killing me slowly.  I have one more month of my sabbatical to go, and I really want to confirm that I have a position to return to at least half a month prior to my return.  Looking at the way things are heading, I don’t think that is going to happen anytime soon.

Overall, the local economy is not doing too well, with the exception of the health industry.  It’s very telling when I flip through the classified ads for job openings.  This is just so not a good time to be looking for a job.

72/250

Psalm 23

A myriad of issues have been bogging me down lately, in particular sourcing for a position, my health and people who do not know/care that they have failed me.  Perhaps it’s no coincidence that we are in the midst of Lent.  After all, Jesus Christ spent forty days in the desert fasting and enduring temptation by Satan.  In this period of penitence, it’s easier to lapse into the old ways by giving in to temptation.  For me, at least, this is the case.  I find myself more vulnerable to unhappy thoughts, and dwelling more in what I don’t have as opposed to being grateful for what I am blessed with.

It’s also a very unsettling period for me as I prepared to re-enter the workforce without resolving some of the issues I wished I had taken time to address earlier.  And the re-entrance isn’t smooth-sailing either: there aren’t positions I am interested in amongst the vacancies available at my organisation at present.  I am effectively jobless, now without a position to return to.

In these few weeks, I have come to realise that the people I can depend on never changed over the years.  Their undying loyalty for and unyielding faith in me touches me much.  And I’m going to repay them by living out the remaining of my life the best that I can.

52/250

Monkey Business

I’ve been wanting to share this story for the longest time, but it just kept slipping my mind.  I first came across when my big boss at work wanted to prep the organisation prior to a rather thorough restructuring exercise, and made all Division 1 officers read this.  I have the utmost respect for this big boss of mine, in part because she has proven that women can go that far in the service, and in part because I think my conversations with her have always been very insightful and beneficial.

Let’s go to the story proper…

———————–

Start with a cage containing five monkeys.

Inside the cage, hang a banana on a string and place a set of stairs under it.  Before long, a monkey will go to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana.  As soon as he touches the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.

After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result – all the other monkeys are sprayed with cold water.  Pretty soon, when another monkey tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.

Now, put away the cold water.  Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it with a new one.  The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the stairs.  To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him.

After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be assaulted.

Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new one.  The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked.  The previous newcomer takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm!  Likewise, replace a third original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth.  Every time the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked.

Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating of the newest monkey.

After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have ever been sprayed with cold water.  Nevertheless, no monkey ever again approaches the stairs to try for the banana.  Why not?  Because as far as they know that’s the way it’s always been done round here.

———————–

As humans always are, google for this story (some keywords are ’5 monkeys’, ‘monkeys and banana story’) and you would end up with a long list of people asking if this experiment was ever carried out, and for direction to the proper reference.

Are we missing the point, as always, too?  A resounding ‘YES’.  I think the whole point here is, it doesn’t matter if the experiment was really carried out.  What really struck a chord with me is how plausible that this could have been the outcome should the experiment be real – that none of the remaining monkeys knew why they should not attempt for the banana.

Now, apply it to the human context.  I see all the psychologists and sociologist jumping at the opportunity to shout out some terms like herd instinct, social conditioning, mob mentality etc.  For the untrained ones amongst us, ignore these terms because everything can be explained in simple, plain language.  In other words, this story is the epitome of ‘Monkey See, Monkey Do’, isn’t it?

From the organisation’s point of view, my big boss wanted us to challenge the old and archaic ways of doing things – if some of the processes are still relevant in the present day, and if there are more efficient ways to do things.  It was a painful time for many of us, in particular my department, because we have an unusually high number of mature workers who are deeply-seated in the old way of doing things.  And as their supervisor, I was naturally expected to be the agent of change.  Painful times…

If anything, I have benefitted from the restructuring exercise in that being somewhat new (3 years, as opposed to most who have been there for at least a decade), I was actually encouraged to question status quos being practiced, and many a time, no one could give a reason why.  Old policy files dated as far back as the 1970s were dug out from the dungeons of compactors, and yet nothing was documented.  So, change was in order.

In conclusion, I agree with the service’s philosophy that most people should move around and challenge work of different natures after a stint of 2-3 years.  It’s just that it’s human nature to not want to move out of their comfort zones.  It’s sad, because I know of so many people who could better contribute elsewhere with their knowledge and experience.  They just don’t buy it that no one is indispensable, themselves included.  Unless the mentality of these people change, the service cannot propel itself forward.

Closure of a Chapter

Today will be my last day at work.  And I’m not quite sure how to go through the day; I’m just bad with valedictions in general.

I may have trivialised the decision in the last post when I mentioned about my impending departure.  Truth is, it still haunts me – what I’m about to give up after working so hard the past 3 years in the organisation.  And the financial freedom which I will be losing.  It was a painful, but necessary decision.  The words sound so logical.  I just wish I could convince myself that it was the right thing to do.

I don’t believe who I am at work defines the person that I am.  I am not ambitious in that way.  But still, no matter how unambitious one is, nobody wants to be too stark in contrast with your friends and peers where career achievements are concerned.  And I, have committed the mother of all career suicides, by becoming a generalist and not clocking enough years-in-service.

Perhaps the trick is to say it to myself a hundred times.  Or to have faith that God has something else in store for me.

I will regain my health.  I owe myself, and my loved ones, this much.

These are the farewell cupcakes I have specially ordered for my colleagues.  50 of them, to be exact.  How on earth I am going to lug them to work without damaging the detailings is anybody’s guess.  I could only keep my fingers crossed.

Afternote:  I know I have been harping on and on about my sabbatical.  My posts are also a little disorganised these 2 weeks because I have not been spending quality time writing during the weekends.  Sorry about that.  Promise I’ll work on it.

Bonding

Bonding over food is our nation’s favourite past-time.  So when it was decided that we should we should take some time off from work for team building, we invariably thought of bonding over a high-tea buffet.

Carousel’s High Tea Buffet is rather atypical in that you should not expect to find a buffet spread laden with pastries and desserts.  Instead I would like to think that it’s rather like a lunch buffet, what with carbo-laden foods and such.

Being a shy person, I’m understandably bad with portraitures – unless I’m armed with my zoom lens which renders it unnecessary to ask for permission if I wish to take portraits of strangers.  It was thus, a pleasant surprise when the portraitures of my colleagues turned out nice.  In fact, it was probably the first time I chose to take pictures of people over food at a restaurant.

I thought that bonding session went very well.  Truth is, I never knew some of my colleagues could be so jovial outside of work.  It would be very hard to say good-bye to them come month end.

The bill came up to S$480 for 13 pax, including a senior citizen who paid only half price.  And we had a further 15% reduction for using one of the credit cards having a promotion with the restuarant.  All in all, it came up to S$32 per pax.  Rather reasonable considering the spread and prompt service.

It’s a great place to bring Muslim friends who wish to enjoy High Tea buffets in Singapore.

Carousel @ Royal Plaza on Scotts
25 Scotts Road
Singapore 228220
Tel: +65-6737 7966
Weekday High Tea Buffet:
1530-1730hrs

Niceness is a Choice

I’ve always believed in that.

Niceness is subjective and very… vague.  That I agree wholeheartedly.  And it isn’t that I have personally met many un-nice people recently.  It’s just a general observation, inspired from my recent interactions with some people of power, wealth and repute.

I don’t expect much, but it’s nice to be appreciative of others.  Even if it’s just paying lip service.  It makes people happy.  And it doesn’t pinch, unless you have been trying to put up a macho front, well then yes, it diminishes the effort.

There is a distinct difference between being reticent, and being un-nice.  I can tell the difference, and I’m sure many others do, too.  Hence I do not admire un-nice people who try to hide behind the hood of reticence.  It’s even a little despicable.

And, no-nonsense people can be nice too.  I like to think that I am one fine example.

If you are rich and powerful, and still choose to be nice to everyone, then it says a lot about your character.  And vice-versa.

I wish I could write more, but I can’t.  Bounded by rules.

The Bum Wannabe

I would be the first to raise my hand if anyone asks for non-ambitious people.  Sure, I want to be recognised for my hard work and potential like everyone else, but primarily my desire to climb the corporate ladder stems from the yearning to earn more money so that I could travel.  Not because I love my job or wish to ascend the rungs.

Bottomline is, I don’t enjoy work much.  Especially when I could indulge in other activities which make me happier.

I’d entertained thoughts of staying home and even put my words to action after I left my first job.  Barely one month into my newfound freedom, I found myself feeling bored to death.  I didn’t miss the human interaction – no, introverts will never miss that – but I missed the sense of self-worth.  Things became very different when I wasn’t bringing part of the dough home.  Prior to my resignation, we were living very comfortably with 2 paychecks but we had to practise more financial prudence with just 1 paycheck.  And it didn’t feel good to have to stretch out my hand to ask for money.

Once in a few months, I find myself at the crossroads, like today.  To work, or not to work?  Is there a job which pays $5k monthly but all you have to do is blog, read, take pictures and watch tv?  What’s the term they call a housewife nowadays?  Homemaker or Domestic Engineer?  Fancy politically-correct terms asides, I am really quite contented staying home and ‘wasting my education’, as my mum would put it.  If it were any remotely possible for her to understand the concept, I would have talked to her about the merits of a formal education, with or without a gainful employment following.  But never mind… she belongs to the era where education and gainful employment demarcates the useful people from the useless bums of the society.

She would certainly be flabbergasted to learn that I’m entertaining the thoughts of becoming a full-time bum again.

The hubby said I’m feeling this way because I’ve over-subscribed myself.  In his words I have ‘too many ECAs apart from work’ which led to this general sense of imbalance and lack of well-being.  Is it mere coincidence that I’m feeling so after an exceptionally busy weekend, or it the hubby spot on with his observation?

I might, or might not act upon my whim.  You’ll know in a few months.

Or maybe I should just… grow up and behave as a responsible adult should.

Half of My Life

As a result of the hubby’s comment that people sometimes really do not care to read about my opinions or my take on values, I’m resolved to be a little more frivolous and light-hearted in some of my posts.  It’s going to be an uphill task you know, considering that I’m usually an austere person interspersed with misplaced humour at other times.

Nevertheless, I shall endeavour…

I consume about half of my time – and thus my life – at this desk.  You could say that the little cubicle is both my sanctuary and the bane of my life, contingent on the time of the year.

I’m known to be a neat minimalist at work and my desk is presumably the most uncluttered in the whole office at its ‘state of rest’ i.e. when I have gone off for the day.  I’m not the most immaculate person when I work, what with papers strewn across the desk top, but I clean up all that before leaving.  And I do try to upkeep a professional image, but I guess there are always hints that betray my efforts.

Amongst the ‘four idiots’ (in the hubby’s words) who love me, 2 of them are represented at my work desk – Sugar and Belle – in the form of their likeness.  Also represented are the two schools I studied at and loved, my very first workplace and Super Junior (which you can’t see from this angle).

To be fair, the hubby and Paris should really be represented.  I shall work on that soon.

Flying Dreams

I don’t aspire to be the pilot of a flying craft.  Never did, and never will.  When I said flying dreams, I referred to dreams I had where I could fly, without wings.  I used to have these dreams very often in the past couple of years, but not in these few months.  And I always wondered what the dreams meant.

Googling threw up some possibilities, but first, I needed to identify how I felt when I flew.  Apprehension, uncertainty, disbelief, and a sense of mission.  You could say that I did not enjoy my temporary superhuman trait one bit, even in my dreams.

I have no idea what that translates to, but I could hazard a guess.  I always have these dreams whenever work was piling up and I was feeling extremely challenged and stressed out.  My subconscious was probably telling me that I could be on top of things if I wanted to, no matter how unbelievable I found it to be.

The dreams probably stopped because I have not felt that stressed out since.  This new portfolio is good for me.  Truth be told, I didn’t relish in flying like a superhuman much.  And I have a nagging suspicion that I’m a minority.  For some reason, half the male population at my previous air traffic control job wanted to be pilots (because they like… flying?) but settled for their second best.

For the record, I think air traffic controllers have no peers in the world, not even pilots.  That’s why I think the world of my beloved who topped every course he attended.  I, for one, would never have settled for second best.

Sorry for derailing again.  I know this would greatly amuse L.  You’re welcome.