The art of not doing anything

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone” – Blaise Pascal.

If there is one thing that I really discovered about myself in the last 6 months, particularly in the last few weeks, is that the above famous words from a historical figure do not quite apply to me. Having lived alone in Singapore for almost five year, I knew I am not a person who always want to be out and about. 

But… the few months have brought about monumental discoveries.

“To sit quietly in a room” – this is probably a metaphor.  Translating into today’s words, I would think it probably equates to not doing a lot, or not doing anything at all, or to a certain extent, just self-entertained. 

Are we able to do this for an extensive period of time?

I discovered that I could. As I reflect on this, I realised that it could possibly be because I have always done this from a very young age.  For instance, I don’t think I have a proper toy until I was in my early teens. As such, I believe I have mastered the art of entertaining myself, or just sit quietly at one spot and just let time passes.

It is probably an escape when I was very young, from everything that is happening around me.  Perhaps that was a good thing, as that didn’t allow bad influence affect me when I was young.

I sound pretty weird now, but I do believe not doing anything or just doing the exact same thing over and over again in these days and age is truly a disappearing art.

Isolation returns

It was just a few months ago…

The world was put on a lockdown, an effort to intentionally isolate the human race in order to curb the scourge that is the coronavirus.  Strangely though, it felt as though the effort to isolate the human race actually raised inter-human communications to a much higher level, thanks to technology.

How many times did you FaceTime your family?

How many times did you have social gathering held over platforms such as Zoom, Google Meet-up or the likes?

I bet the level of activity in all your chatgroups also went up a few notches, or maybe you even started having regular whatsapp catch-ups with some friends whom you have not spoken to in ages.  And… people who usually takes ages to reply a single text… suddenly became rather prompt, did they?

Some claimed that the lockdown has given them a certain degree of stress, and pushed them outside the comfort zone where they have to do everything themselves.  A friend of mine was telling me his part time helper could not go to his place so he had to do all housework himself.

Isn’t it an irony that people are being pushed outside the comfort zone by being in their… “home”?

And of course, suddenly everyone is able to cook.  A wave of cuisine parade swept across social media, where people proudly showed their ‘product’ from the only trip that they can make during the lockdown… trip to the kitchen.

That was just a few months ago…

The word that has reversed all of the above is called… “normal”... while the term new-normal is floating everywhere as the new way of life.  However, it cannot be denied that normalcy is slowly but surely returning, or more specifically, the human race craves for normalcy to return.

Normalcy… lesser inter-human communications, no more online social gatherings that did not translate into more physical gatherings, don’t need to cook so much yourself, don’t need to do housework yourself, more time wasted stuck in traffic jams… you know what I am getting at.

Normalcy returns, “I am busy” or “I have no time” is back. Isolation has ended, and yet isolation has also… returned.

Sentimental connection to legacy readers

I was feeling rather sentimental a few nights ago, perhaps it was because I have reached another milestone…. It was my birthday, another number to that ever increasing number, a number that you don’t quite keep track after a while. Wouldn’t you agree?

And so, I decided to log on to my Zewt e-mail account and went through a lot of the mails that I used to receive and the communications that I had with the readers of this blog, days when there used to be so many of them :)

It was very surreal to read through some of those mails from readers who asked me so many questions, ranging from where I got my inspiration to write, advice and well wishes during a time when I was diagnosed with a kidney condition, and most of all, questions about career from people who just graduated from university seeking a pointer or two about whether they should join the corporate world. 

Time wise… most of those mails were almost a decade ago, some even longer.  I wonder how these people are, whether my 2-cent worth of consult to them (if I can call that a consult) did lead them to where they wanted to go, and whether they have achieved greatness and did well in their respective career.

And as such, I decided to write to a few of them with the email thread that I had.  To my surprise, some of them have replied!

I have discovered through the years that human connection is one of the most fulfilling experience ever.  Therefore, I am excited to connect to people who wrote to me literally… a decade ago.

Are you one of them?

3 degrees of mediocrity

The first degree…

Slightly more than 2 years ago (before I moved to Singapore), me and a bunch of friends made our way to Singapore for a sports event.  A friend of mine brought his girlfriend along.  For the girlfriend, it was her first holiday trip out of Malaysia. 

No, my friend was not dating a young teenager.  But rather, she is from a not so well to do family which limits her opportunity to travel overseas.  Ya’ know, not everyone has the luxury to trot around the world and post pictures of such trotting over facebook.

Anyway... It was after a dinner function and me, my mate & his girlfriend with another mate wanted to go to Orchard Road.  We hailed for a cab as we saw one coming.

As it stopped, I opened the door and immediately got into cab, only to realise that there was a little commotion taking place between my other mates and the girlfriend.

Do you know what happened?

My mate’s girlfriend was in complete shock that I just jumped into the cab without telling the cabbie where we wanted to go, obtain an agreement from the cabbie that he will take us there and succumb to a cut-throat price.  She could not believe it, to the extent that she didn’t dare to get into the cab in that instance – needed some convincing.

You should have seen her reaction and what she uttered out in Cantonese – it was quite hilarious.

Later on in the trip, she continued to be shocked by the fact that public buses and MRT are on time… public toilets are clean… there are hardly any potholes on the road, the list goes on.

Let’s not term this as “katak bawah tempurung”.  Like I said, some people are just not born into a fortunate family which allows them to occasionally jump out of the “tempurung”.  And hence, for these Malaysians; who grew up in such environment – these people are abused by mediocrity without them knowing it.  Mediocrity is not a choice, it’s just the way it is for these people.

The first degree of mediocrity… is when mediocrity is not known to be mediocrity.

The second degree…

Look into the mirror, chances are you will see one who falls within this category.  Ya’ know, those of us who are fortunate to know about the outside world due to the luxury of physically jumping out of the “tempurung”.  Such luxuries which give us the opportunities to realise that the room for improvement in so many things are huge.

But so what? We know things suck, and we just don’t give a damn.  We are used to it.  Mediocrity is a lifestyle.  As long as you’re in Malaysia, it’s expected and accepted.  We live with it.

The second degree of mediocrity… is when mediocrity is normality.

The third degree…

This was quite some time ago and I was travelling in a cab in Malaysia.  Yup – the one where I have to tell the cabbie where I want to go, get an approval from him and be screwed in terms of fare. 

I like to talk to cabbies – always an enlightening experience.  And so, our conversation flowed from food to new roads being built to traffic jams and ended up with cars.  Proton came into the picture.  To cut the long story short, I made a comment about the infamous quality of Proton’s power (or powerless) window, to which the cabbie responded…

“Kenapa orang sering cakap pasal tingkap Proton?  Mana ada tingkap kereta yang tak rosak lepas setahun?  Saya dengar tingkap kereta Jepun pun rosak selepas setahun.  Ini hah (referring to his Proton)… tingkap yang masih ok, lebih setahun dah.  Ini hah Proton lebih baik dari kereta Jepun!”

[Why do people often talked about Proton’s window? Are there power windows that remain fuctional more than a year?  I heard Japanese cars’ windows will be spoilt after a year too.  This Proton of mine, the windows are still fine after a year. Proton is better than Japanese car!]

I soon realised he was not being sarcastic.  He was serious.  I was not against him defending Proton – but was astonished that he actually believed that Proton was better than any other car out there.  The conversation continued to flow and this too came from him…

“Negara kita ada angkasawan!  Negara lain mana ada.  Indonesia ada? Singapura ada? Thailand ada? Ini bermakna Malaysia lagi hebat dari negara lain!”

[Our country had an astronaut.  Other countries don’t.  Does Indonesia have one? Does Singapore have? Does Thailand have?  It means Malaysia is better than other countries!]

I do not know whether I should shatter the cabbie’s pride.  Actually, I reckon I can’t.  He was really into it.   I can only pay tribute to the effectiveness of propaganda. And believe me, there are actually quite a number of people out there who falls within this category.

And hence, the third degree of mediocrity… is when mediocrity is believed to be superiority.

Letter to thyself – Round 3

15 people entrusted me with their letters in the first episode.  2 years ago, only 6 subscribed to the idea with 2 asking me to send the letters back to them only after 2 years. I hope they are surprised by what they have written 2 years ago.

As another new year looms, I reckon it’s time to resurrect this again. 

It’s a pretty simple exercise…

You write whatever you want to write to yourself in a word document. Typically, people tend to write about their new year resolution but you should use your imagination.

You save the word document and password protect it (and remember the password).

You send it to me via e-mail telling me how long you want me to keep it.

I will send that e-mail back to you after your prescribed time.  Preferred time is 1 year, have received 2 and I am hoping people will send me asking me to keep it for 5 years.

The best effect is that you have forgotten you have sent me this e-mail and when I return it to you, you will be in utter shock reading what you wrote to yourself years ago.

For the first blog entry about this exercise, read here.

Hope to receive many many many mails… and Happy New Year!

1 year ago… The squid story… Chicken ass

2 years ago… Loved or pampered or spoilt

3 years ago… One for the girls… Talking to the dead… Are you prepared?

Without a car

Besides throwing me with this question, another common query I get from people (as some of you might have guessed from the title) is whether I am suffering from not having a car.  Yes, in case you don’t know, I don’t own a car here in Singapore.

Objectively speaking, this no-car issue is an epitome of half-glass-empty vs. half-glass-full argument.

Indeed, as a typical Malaysian – suddenly not being able to just hop behind the wheel and go to where you want to go is quite a severe loss of convenience, or “perceived” convenience depending on how you see it.

There were days when it rains in the morning, where I felt a car would be nice because the walk from my place to the MRT station is not entirely sheltered.  There were nights where I would like to meet up with my friends for drinks or ‘teh-tarik’ but that is not possible.  There were days when I am standing next to people in the MRT who will release aroma as though they have just dipped themselves in shite… and I felt that I should have been sitting in a car.

And many more…

But hang on…

The walk from my condo to the nearest MRT station is at the most, 5 minutes – actually, 3 to sheltered underpass leading to the station.  I’ve timed this. My office is located right above the MRT station.

Rain or thunderstorm, I know I will only need to be in the MRT for 10 minutes – the duration of my journey.  This also means that when I sms my wife “Coming home now”… she can begin to heat up dinner and I will be back sitting at the table enjoying my meal within 25 minutes, max – rain or thunderstorm.  How long does it take for you to get home, in a non-rainy day?

I can always walk away from people with “those” aroma.  And because I am not that short, I don’t have to endure the projection from the armpit of those people who lift up their hands to hang on to the handle-bar.  Maybe others had to endure mine, but I haven’t noticed anyone walking away from me.

And all these, cost me SGD2.02 a day, about MYR100 a month – less than 1 full tank that I had to fill weekly in Malaysia.  And I am not paying for a car which is a depreciating asset.

Right, I can’t have my teh-tarik or nasi-lemak or roti-canai at night but seriously, I can live with that.  And if MRT doesn’t go to the places I want to go, I can take the bus from the bus-stop right in front of my condo – which is clean, on time and takes me to a lot of other places.  Alternatively, I can take the cab – which is reasonably priced, charges based meter and safe.

If all fails – I will take it as God telling me not to go out.

Certainly, I will not say that I will never buy a car.  But at the moment, it is more of a “want” instead of a “need”.  Am I tempted to buy one?  Hell yes! Car prices are cheap if you compare dollar-to-dollar.  2 months ago, a fellow brain-drain digger just walked-in to a dealer and bought a 4-year-old 5-series for less than SGD90k.  I checked out a few 4-year-old 3-series and most of them are below SGD70k.  I am fighting temptation on a daily basis.

Another point – my boss who probably earns double my salary does not own a car. I know another unit-head within my function who probably earns 4 times my salary does not own a car either.  Hence, it is the Malaysian in me who wants a car, not the Zewt in me who needs a car.

Just want to touch on the “convenience” of having a car in Malaysia… a friend of my mine said he cannot work in Singapore because he cannot stand not being able to “just hop into the car and go to wherever he wants to go”. 

I think that statement is grossly incomplete.  Yes, you may be able to go wherever you want to go.  But can you get there on time?  Is it peak hour and hence jam?  Is it raining and hence you will be sitting in your car cursing in facebook?  Can you get a car-park at your destination?  And depending on the time of the day (something which is getting increasingly worrying and I have stories to tell), is it safe to just drive out? 

So is the car-less situation a half-glass-empty or half-glass-full for me?  A bit of both depending on the situation; but more towards half-glass-full… for now.

1 year ago… Joseph the unfortunate banana… Maybe reality could be should be

2 years ago… And you think they have no life… And you think the big pays big

3 years ago… A state of many people… Metamorphosis of slaves

How does it feel to be in my current modern slavery position

Obviously, the initial feeling is pretty good. I mean… moving into a head office position, it does gives you a glamorous feeling.

When I first arrived in the office, almost all the administrative and logistic matters were already settled… gadgets were cool and they gave me an i-Phone!… linked to my work mail server of course. But still… very cool. So yeah… it was a good feeling…

Next, the composition of colleagues within my team is quite over-whelming. I am the second youngest guy in the team and the only person without international exposure, the rest are all very experience people in this function I am in.

Sometimes, during discussions; the level of conversation is so high level and so corporately intellectual, I am left thoroughly amazed. I would like to believe that I am quite a quick thinker but man… these guys whom I work with are way too fast for me. I am like a small child feeding off the experience and knowledge of others.

And then, there will be days where I do feel quite powerful. With just 1 e-mail, I can (if I want) send chills through some people’s spine. With just 1 e-mail, I can instruct people to do a lot of things involving quite a lot of $$$. The details are beyond sharing boundaries but yeah… such are the days when I feel powerful.

Then there are days where I feel I am being put on the spot. Today – was a classic example. I was thrown with about 15 slides and was then asked to do a presentation… 10 minutes before a meeting. Fair enough, I am fairly familiar with the stuff but shite… 10 minutes preparation!

I think my boss did it on purpose because he has put me on the spot several times. Maybe it’s a training process, I should ask him the next time we have our 1-to-1 talk. Anyway, I have to say enjoy it. It’s actually very satisfying when you pull it off.

Apart from all that…

I have to admit that it can be quite frightening being in this position. I would even go to the extent to say that there were times where I really felt very fearful. I am fully aware that this organisation has very low tolerance for mistake. If I am fucked… I am really fucked…

Yeah… it’s glamorous to feel powerful and all but if I made a wrong call, I know my job is on the line.

Life is like that… I guess…


1 year ago… The unforgettable accident experience Part 3… Are you racist?

3 years ago… Whack it over the weekend

To be or not to be a “tai-tai”

Simplistically defined, “tai-tai” means a married woman who does not need to work. Generally, the understanding is that most girls out there will want to be a “tai-tai”. Please note the word “generally”.

I have met girls who were originally career minded and do not wish to be a tai-tai, and then made a 180 degrees turn and wanted to become one. This usually happened after a few years in the modern slavery world. Of course, there are those who made tai-tai their lifelong ambition from the very start.

There is however, an elite group of girls are adamant that they will never be a tai-tai. And these are girls who have been working for a few years and they are of the opinion that they can never sit at home, just look after the kids, do the cooking or just pure doing nothing. Other reasons quoted include lack of fulfilment and boredom as there will be no one around to hang out with.

I think there is a gap in understanding what exactly a tai-tai is. Being a tai-tai is just not about “not working”, “looking after kids” or “does nothing”, it’s also about “living the life”.

Imagine if you can wake up everyday to prepared breakfast. Then maybe, you need to send your kids to school. Thereafter, you go for your manicure and pedicure. Then lunch with… now, this is important… lunch with fellow tai-tais. Then all of you head to a spa together for some relaxation.

Perhaps some days, it will be yoga or pilates. Or some days, it will be tennis or golf or some dancing lessons, depending on your preference. This will then usually followed by tea/coffee with fellow tai-tais before picking up your kids. You then return home to prepared dinner and plan your next Europe holiday.

Perhaps the days are not that generic but more or less the same. Remember, all these without the stress and frustration of work. Would being a tai-tai be bored and unfulfilling?

Indeed, one needs to have the right resource to be a tai-tai. The major ingredient is of course, money. But the other important ingredient, which many often overlook… is the presence of fellow tai-tais.

When you have the money, a lot of money (from the husband of course) and a bunch of tai-tais who are fun to hang out with, a tai-tai’s life may not be that boring and unfulfilling after all. I have witnessed a soul who said she is not able to live the tai-tai life until she was presented with the golden opportunity. How things have changed.

Not working, staying home to cook and look after the kids and do nothing else is not the life of a tai-tai. That is the life of a housewife. So when you say you can’t be a tai-tai, perhaps you meant you can’t be a housewife?


1 year ago… Migration: Running towards something vs. Running from something

2 years ago… Tahap yang mana?… A candle epic

3 years ago… A locker tale… More but less

Why did you hire me?

I asked that straight to my boss’ face the other day, and I think I caught him by surprise. And the first word that came from him was… “personality”…

The nature of my work requires a certain level of technical knowledge, and I don’t think I am a very technically sound person. Well, I am not saying that I am crap, but there are certainly others who are much better than me. I am just slightly above average.

Hence, I never really expected him to say that I am given the job because I am exceptionally good in what I do. Personality certainly made more sense.

He further explained that I have the personality to interact well with people, which is crucial in the role I am in now. 75% of my time is spent talking to people. The ability to articulate my thoughts and the courage to voice them out in front of people, those are the attributes that landed me this job.

Other remarks from him include – I was “pretty natural” when I want to initiate a conversation with someone, and that I am not one who reacts negatively towards criticism.

Well, I sort of know why I was offered this position. Asking him that question was just me trying to test how does my boss sees me.

Succeeding in life is not just about working hard and being good that what you do. Of course, those are certainly important attributes. But I have learned that there is one crucial component to success… the ability to talk.

Are you able to stand in front of 50 people and talk without pissing in your pants? And if you do talk, do the 50 people understand what you are talking about? When you bump into your big big big boss at the pantry, do you quickly get your drink and go away hoping he/she didn’t notice you? Or do you try to strike a conversation with him/her? When you are at a dinner function, and your big big big boss decides to sit next to you, do you freeze in fear? Or are you able to speak as though he/she is a regular colleague (talking sense of course)?

All these things matter. And apparently, “they” have been observing me. The time when I was sent to London… those conferences… those formal dinner functions… those informal gatherings…

Some are of the opinion that “ability to talk” equals “ability to bullshit”. While that is not entirely accurate, there are certainly more successful bullshiters compared to successful non-bullshiters.


1 year ago… Do you know you work for the bank?… Please scold your parents

2 years ago… A change in dominant language… Gym tales – female version

3 years ago… Orgasm comparison… Debit affluence, credit conscience

The injury conversation

I have not seen an orthopaedic surgeon yet. The person treating me for the last 2 days is senior physiotherapist. He used to be with the national football team and he gave the confidence I needed to let him manage my knee for now. He has treated a few of my team-mates and he came highly recommended.

I will be seeing an ortho surgeon tomorrow for further assessment. Thanks for all your prayers.

Anyway… as the therapist was assessing my knee yesterday, I was being a typical patient asking all sorts of questions…

How long before I can walk again?
Can I still run a marathon?
No more football for sure right?
What about badminton?
And golf?
Huh? I might need surgery?
What if I don’t want surgery?
Will my knee be the same again after the surgery?
Etc…

He was very patient with me, I reckon I was not the first to bombard him with all these text-book questions. But something happened along the way…

After answering all my questions, he began to talk about himself as I asked him how long has he been doing this, etc. It was then that he said… “Oh, I have just been diagnosed with 4th stage cancer”.

Oh man… at that moment, I was actually lost for words, which is quite a rare thing. I just do not know what to say besides uttering the usual “Sorry to hear that, hope you’ll recover…”

That man was potentially staring at certain death, but he was all cheerful and patient and so positive about life and was encouraging to me remain positive and think of the good signs. And there I was sitting there with a busted knee asking all sorts of questions as though it’s the end of the world for me.

Oh yeah, no sports for the rest of my life is quite end of the world for me but that’s another point.

At that moment, I was reminded… no matter how low I feel, I should still be thankful…

You should too… because you don’t have a busted knee…


3 years ago… V for virginity, P for purity

Like student once again

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of being a student once again. Actually, it has been the case for slightly more than 2 weeks now. I had an exam yesterday and in the last couple of weeks, I have been frantically doing last minute revision studying.

Waiting outside the exam hall, the whole scenario just brought back the good ‘ol memories. Congregated at one corner were those who continued to dig into the reading materials, as though these are results changing reading. At the other end of the spectrum are those who sat down looking cool without reading thing.

I sat with the latter as I don’t believe in stressing yourself before the exam.

And of course, one of the reasons I don’t do such last minute reading is – it was an open book exam.

Speaking of which, the girl sitting in front of me came with a cabin-size luggage. A. Cabin-size. Luggage! Emerging from her luggage were stacks of reading materials, 2 text books, 1 dictionary and a whole load of notes. And there I was, with 5 bundles of paper, which were essentially the given reading materials, nothing more.

As I was allocated a seat right at the back, I managed to catch a good view of the other candidates. Not trying to sexist here but generally (focus on the word “generally”), the guys will just have the study materials folder like I did while the girls will bring their whole study room to the exam hall.

When I was in university, the guys will come together and organise the next football session. The girls will congregate and started comparing their answers and then proclaim to everyone that they might fail.

It would appear that evolution has failed to penetrate this segment of the human species.

As soon as we were released, the first thing that the girl in front of me said to her friend was …”I didn’t finish the questions, I think I will fail.

As I head to the toilet, the guys inside there were arranging their lunch appointment.

Outside the male toilet, there was a long queue outside the female toilet. While waiting, some were frantically comparing answers and debating who is wrong and who is right. Then I heard one of them said… “I think we are both wrong, sure fail lah”.

Some things really never change.



1 year ago… An unexpected apology

2 years ago… A glimpse on my childhood

3 years ago… Chronicles of morons

Why Helen the mother and not Hank the father

It would appear that my post regarding “The story of Helen, who’s only the mother” has attracted some not very happy souls. There are people who are not happy that women are seen as responsible for nurturing children while men are seen as responsible for “bringing back the bacon”.

The discussion on the existence (or non-existence) of gender-bias responsibilities will never come to an end. Like it or not, there will always be a tiny fraction of biasness in our view towards certain gender. Hence, I am not going to go there.

As for my story regarding Helen, perhaps I made a mistake by not formulating a better summary. If I may, I would like to add that the story of Helen was never meant to be gender bias. It could happen to anyone, including men.

Ablogaway commented in the post saying that there should be a post regarding the story of Hank. Indeed, just change the name from Helen to Hank, mother to father and she/her to he/him, and there you go, you will have your story of Hank.

But then again, why did Zewt chose to have a story of Helen the mother and not Hank the father? Was Zewt being gender bias?

Well, the reason is simple.

Helen relayed the story to me personally. She sits beside me at work.

P/S: Of course, name has been changed


1 year ago… Have you got the balls?

3 years ago… Even they got the guts to say it

Parents these days

I met up with some friends a few weeks ago over lunch. Turn the clock back 5 years and we will most probably be bitching about our bosses. But since one of them is now a director while the other is a senior manager with one of the Big 4 accounting firms, we usually now bitch about… staff, about how staff nowadays will resign if you make them work excessive overtime and so on.

This time however, the conversation took another twist. This time, they were bitching about… the parents! The stories…

An executive director was giving training to young associates. As the clock struck 5.30pm, someone knocked on the door. It was the mother of one of the newly recruited associate. Apparently, it was time for mommy to pick daughter home.

In the midst of a meeting, a staff (different from above) said she has to go. The official office hour has ended. Her reason… the mother was waiting downstairs to fetch her home. Is the office a school or something?

Apparently, there are lot of parents who send their “kids” to work and fetch them back everyday. Very loving parents indeed…

A staff of my director friend was working overtime for a few days running. The staff didn’t say anything, but the parent called up my friend! It was not a friendly call. Credit to the staff, she never complained and was happy to work. Just the parent reacted differently. Talk about being protective.

There was an external meeting and a staff was asked to drive there for the meeting. She called her dad for permission, and permission was not granted. My director friend insisted that she go as it is part of her employment requirement. Permission was granted, but she has to tell the father that she has reached the destination safely.

A staff asked my director friend to grant him 2 weeks leave. Due to a tight working schedule, the leave application was denied. He told my friend that he has to go because… the father has already booked him for a 2 weeks holiday.

This staff comes to work in a Camry. She complained that her car was too big. The father bought her a CRV. Wow! What a small car indeed!

Starting pay in this firm is currently RM2,600. After working for a while, the father insisted that his child stop working. The child resisted. The father paid the child RM2,600 to not work.

Don’t get me wrong, I am certainly not advocating that people should work late and die for their company. But surely, there must be a time when the protective grip be released for someone to experience the world.

I am not a parent yet, so maybe I will react in the same manner. But I will certainly allow my children to experience adulthood and give them the opportunity to mature from student life to a working life. Of course, I am not asking people to be a parent like this (which has drawn some stinging comments), but there should be a balance.

It is not an easy transition; the sooner parents let their children go through some “hands-on” training, the better.


1 year ago… How much?

3 years ago… A very misleading document

If you think you are better and smarter than your parents

Midway through my teens, I had this belief. At that time, I strongly believed that my parents were very blessed to have me as a son. It was a very proud mentality, not exactly a good thing.

My parents were illiterate. I was told that my dad kept failing when he was in school while my Mom never got to school at all. And, they do not know how to play any musical instruments or engage in any sporting activities. Worse, they seem to be very simple minded and have a vision for the future.

I have always been doing quite well in my studies while in primary school. Midway though my secondary school and having joined Boys’ Brigade, I found myself somewhat thriving in studies, picking up music, dancing, singing and playing sports at a reasonable level.

Hence, I can’t help but compare myself to my parents. It got me thinking, and pride took over me. Worse, my foolish pride even prompted me to tell my parents that they must really give thank to God for having a son like me for I excel in so many things and they didn’t.

I was wrong…

My Mom came to KL for an arranged marriage with my dad knowing only the Hokkien dialect. Her cooking knowledge was limited. But she picked up Cantonese at a rapid rate. Her cooking improved tremendously and for a good 5 – 8 years before she passed away, she was able to speak, read and write Mandarin. She did all that, without any classes or tutors.

How many of us can do that? Have you heard of “bananas” who just insist that they will never be able to pick up any Chinese dialect?

The writings were on the wall. My Mom had incredible learning abilities. Given the opportunity to take up a musical instrument or a sport, I do not doubt she will be able to play them well.

My Dad though, isn’t exactly very academically sound. But I have witnessed him doing rather complex calculations to arrive at materials needed for his tailoring business in a flash. All he needed to do was to remove his specs and stared into this air for a few seconds… voila, the calculation was done. Similar to my Mom, he didn’t have any formal education. Also, my Dad is quite a singer.

Putting all the pieces into the puzzle made me realise I was never the wonderful gift from heaven whom I thought I was. Not to say I have wonderful genes, but the portion of good genes I have did magically appeared from thin air, they were all from my parents.

The only difference is that I was given the opportunity to utilise whatever genetic ability that I inherited from my parents (though I had to lie to do some). I was in the better environment and had the right platform to achieve it.

My parents though, were not so fortunate. They were poor when they were young. They never had the time, and certainly did not have the money to do what I did when I was young. Their lives were limited by the evil human creation called “money”.

So the next time you think you are better and smarter than your parents, think again.


1 year ago… Losing the migration blues… It’s not corruption… Most disheartening

2 years ago… Of alone and lonely

3 years ago… Find the buck over the weekend

Crazy money

I am sure we have all heard about how investment bankers or hedge fund managers or forex traders making huge amount of money. There were also plenty of media coverage on bonuses and payouts at the peak of the so called “financial crisis” about a year ago.

But they are all just hearsay, and what we read of the media. As far as I am concern, I know they money involve is huge, but just don’t know how huge.

My first monthly salary was RM1,800 (USD520 – aren’t we cheap labour?). My first bonus was when my salary was RM2,100. A 2 months bonus brought me RM4,200. After all relevant deductions, it was only RM3,000+. Not exactly a lot but damn… was I happy when I got it then. It was hell lot of money. I am sure some of you know what I mean.

For a few years running, bonuses for me and my peers were all 4 figures. Hence, when we heard about people getting 5 figure bonuses, our jaws will drop.

My current role brings me with close proximity of the “money industry”, and I had a very good catch up session with a friend who is a player within the “money industry”. And I found out…

RM0.5m bonus payment is a norm. There are people who consistently get 7 figure bonuses.

There was a smart soul who managed to get into one of the biggest “money company” in the world and his monthly salary alone is already hitting 6 figures. Yes, 6 figure salary a month!! And… when he joined this super “money company”, he was given a joining “gift”… a 6-figure “gift in USD. Can you imagine what this smart soul will be getting as bonus?

I also personally know of an investment banker whose lifestyle went through no changes at all during the so called financial crisis. The flying around and the spending continued to flow. I wouldn’t be surprise if his bonus is also something within the region of 7 figures. The media said these people were very affected by the financial crisis. I think otherwise.

Don’t be misled. I am not earning what these people are earning. Not even close. But to actually know of people who are getting these mega bucks, it really throws me off my chair.

It’s really… crazy money.

P/S: What is “money industry / money company”? You have to figure that out yourself, I can't be telling you everything, right?


1 year ago… This thing called MTM

2 years ago… Cards laugh

3 years ago… 2nd chance with Mom: Between hard work and success… The week that’s been

That lie I told

Was talking to someone about childhood today. It’s always good to talk about childhood regardless of whether it was good or bad, the reminiscent of our early days always bring a smile.

Talking about it reminded me of one lie I told my parents, a lie that changed my life forever.

When I was in primary school, I wanted to join scouts. But my parents never agree. They just refuse to let me join. I think they believe that I was just looking for reasons to get out of the house. And probably, they were worried that it will be a financial burden.

When I reached secondary school, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to join an organisation called Boys’ Brigade. And so, I leveraged on the one fear my parents had… the authorities.

I told them that in order for me to stay in school, it is a rule that I join a uniform organisation. If I don’t, I will be kicked out of school. And if I am kicked out of school, it will be against the law and they will be in trouble.

My parents are not educated people, they bought it; and I joined the Boys’ Brigade.

It was there that I learned how to play sports, sing, dance, learned about God, swim, be in a band, camp, leadership, how to be independent… It made me who I am today, which isn’t exactly a bad thing. I also made some really good friends who are now my close buddies.

Yeah, I lied… and I am not exactly proud that I did that to my parents. But then again, that was probably the best lie ever told. I am sure my parents wouldn’t mind.

Ever told such lie(s)?


3 years ago… Some of Mom’s wishes

The reality of GST

In the past weeks, I have been trying to explain GST to a lot of people; ranging from acquaintances to friends to colleagues to business heads. I ended up with a common conclusion… it is very difficult to get these people to understand the technicality of GST.

I suppose I should be glad. If everyone can comprehend the topic easily, people like us will be out of job…

Anyway, I have tried to explain one very important component of GST, i.e. input tax. I even tried to sexitised the topic, but people only got the sex part, not the concept. Let me tell you, it is an element that will impact us all.

Right… let’s not get technical. The thing is, input tax recovery rate will impact costs composition of companies. It means, the profit of companies will be affected. But do you think companies will allow their profit to be impacted?

All the best tax brains in the country have been hired by big companies to ensure that these companies will not incur additional cost due to non-recovery of input tax. They are screaming to the relevant government agencies, that they want full recovery rate. And behind the scene, they are plotting, that if there is no full recovery, any additional cost will be passed on to consumers.

It simply means… prices will increase…

In consultations with the govt authorities, agencies or discussions in industry associations, I have heard how these people refer to companies as “we” / “I”, saying things like… “I don’t want to incur out of pocket costs”… “We will be suffering if we don’t get this through”… and the ultimate…

“If we don’t get it, we will just pass the cost to customers. We have no choice”

Isn’t it amazing (and sad), that humans can be so focus when they have been “paid” and forget that they too, are part of the community. They, their families, their friends… are the “customers” they are referring too. But they can’t see that far, they only see the salary and fees that the companies pay them.


1 year ago… How tasty are your nasi lemaks?… Behind the economic scene

2 years ago… London cooking adventure

Just for the class

If you walk into any badminton hall in this country, chances are you will witness badminton game played at a reasonable level. Yes, you do see some people going there just to hit the shuttlecock across the net or totally miss the shot altogether or just merely running around swinging the racquet while giggling.

Nevertheless, you will most probably be able to witness at some courts where proper technical badminton with smashes, drop shots, etc. are played, even if those are just casual games. Even if you are not a badminton enthusiast, you will somehow realise that there are quality in their games.

The same cannot be said about tennis though, at least to me…

I have been watching people playing tennis quite a bit in the last couple of months. No disrespect to tennis player out there but… really… I haven’t really seen a tennis game played the way tennis should be played, if you know what I mean.

Some, they played as though they were playing pinball. Some just sky the ball to get it over to the other side and the other player will sky the ball back to the original player. Some just keep hitting to each other regardless of whether the ball is in-court or out of court. Most just end up picking up balls more than hitting the balls. Basically, I just have not seen a proper tennis rally being executed.

I am not trying to belittle tennis or make fun of tennis players. I am sure there are people out there who can really play tennis. But the reason why I am writing is because I overheard a conversation between 2 “supposedly” tennis players where they claimed that they play tennis because it is of a “higher class” compared to badminton.

It is an undeniable fact that golf is a game for the rich and tennis tends to skew towards that as well. But to play a game simply just to be of a specific “class” where in actual fact, you can’t really play at all, it is unnecessary pride.

Are we humans so concern about status and class? Sigh… the perils of an affluent society…

Honestly, has anyone seen a proper casual tennis game being played before? As in with proper throw-service with rallies and volleys?


1 year ago… Lost hope

3 years ago… Morons of the same brain park together… Respect for Malaysian drivers

Preserving... what?

When I scrutinised the migration issue a while ago, a particular reason to why we should all remain in Malaysia was highlighted. Of all reasons and excuses that I’ve ever heard, I disagree with this reason most. Yes, I even find the I-stay-here-because-of-the-food a much better reason compared to this particular one.

The reason mentioned was… preserving our culture.

Since the migration talk centres mostly upon Chinese, I shall confine the notion of this article only on Chinese culture.

So… remaining in this country to preserve our culture? Seriously? Our culture, to me; is already dying a death inflicted by our very own hands in this land.

For a start, check out the names of the your children or your friend’s children. The regular Mei Ling, Siew Ling, Ah Hong, Ah Tan, Ah Seng, etc. are there only for documentation purposes. Instead, they are known as Ethan, Gabriel, Antonio, Shauntaine, Caitlynn, Caroline and one of my friend even named their daughter Gisele. If we can't even address our children by their Chinese name, what preserving culture are we talking about?

By the way, if your children do not have an English name, very likely their Chinese name is one that does not sound like a typical Chinese name anymore. You know what I am talking about. Well, at least you try not to officiate the English name.

But then again, do you tell your children that they you are their “ba-ba or ma-ma” or… you are known as daddy/mommy to them? Worse, how many of you are conversing with your children with any language BUT the Chinese language? Of all my friends who grew up speaking Cantonese, they are all conversing with their children in English. “Seems more natural” was the excuse.

And just to rewind a little bit back to the time when most of us got married, did we wear a Chinese “qua”? Or a tux? Preserving our culture? Really?

December is coming, and everyone is excited. Why? Because Christmas is coming! The birth of Christ and a religious celebration notwithstanding, how many of us Chinese are more excited about Christmas than Chinese New Year? Dinner with friends/family on Christmas eve is something to look forward to but dinner with family on Chinese New Year eve and Chap Goh Mei is a chore, isn’t it?

And do we still celebrate Mid-Autumn festival and the dumpling (“jung”) festival? Oh, you do know that those are Chinese festivals right? Do you?

I can go on forever but I am sure you know what I am trying to get at. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that we should all suddenly get traditional so that our Chinese heritage radiates out of us. The fact is; the Chinese in most of us are dying, if not dead. And not migrating is not going to stop that.

Before I end, allow me to share with you this real life encounter that I had with a child…

Baby X is now 3 years old. He was born into a Chinese family where both the parents speak Cantonese. In fact, the paternal grandparents side do not speak English at all. But just like so many young Chinese families nowadays, Baby X grew up, and is still growing in a very strong English speaking environment.

Lately, efforts were being put in to remind Baby X that he is of Chinese decent. This was triggered by a lack of response from Baby X when people tried to communicate with him in Cantonese. It appears that he will not speak to you if you speak to him in anything besides English. The child, as it seems, knows how to differentiate between English and other languages.

But one latest effort hit the worst snag when Baby X gave this strong response… he screamed…

“I am not Chinese! Don’t speak to me in Chinese. Don’t call me Chinese. I don’t like Chinese!”


P/S: A few people e-mailed me asking about GST. While I am not exactly the expert, I will certainly be blogging more about it soon…

1 year ago… Did all the money suddenly just disappear?

2 years ago… A very familiar situation… The ultimate fine dining

What would you want to be the reaction?

You should read and ponder upon “What would be your reaction” before reading this…
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Weekdays, on the way to work; and you were stuck in the jam once again. You just couldn’t understand why the lights always turn red as soon as you were about to cross the junction that day. Perhaps it was just not your day.

You turned to your right and saw the other driver smiling. “Seems like a good day to him”, you thought to yourself.

A loud unknown sound redirected your attention. You turned to the source of the sound and you saw it… a motorcyclist had smashed a metal rod into the driver window of a few cars behind you. He seemed to be pulling something from the driver side of the car.

2 seconds later, he swung the metal rod again to the car and a loud scream followed. To your horror, you saw a splash of blood on the windscreen of the victim’s car. The motorcyclist, who has firmly established himself as a criminal then sped off; and he was going to pass the right side of your car.

At that moment, your mind somehow brought you to the countless victims who have fell prey to such theft and they are now either dead, or left in a coma.

You engaged a gear and just as the perpetrator was about to pass your car, you intentionally crashed into him. You got him! He was pinned between your car and the car next to you.

You paused for a few seconds to recollect yourself before exiting your vehicle. The thief was screaming in pain and your car was badly damaged, so was the car next to you.

You wonder how the owner of the other car would react…

What would you want to be the reaction of the other driver?

Those who commented in the earlier post… any thoughts?


1 year ago… Same shield, different usage

2 years ago… Ghost sex = good sex?