Of jobs and judgments

I was so excited to hear about the promising job offer at a media firm in Burlington Plaza that I dragged KM off with me to that place in Bugis immediately. The lady turned out to be very nice, and was very encouraging and seemed very approving of all that I could do. I naively believed that this would turn out to be a very good job opportunity, particularly as KM would be working with me as well. After the preliminary interview, the lady seemed very approving of my ability to speak and write and type in English and Chinese. She even went as far as to let me look at their invoices so that I could type out some information on it later, saying that she wanted to test my typing speed. She called me over to look at an assistant doing the bookings for advertisement space, almost as if the training for the position would begin immediately. The whole situation gave one the impression of her almost having accepted KM and I for the positions. But she hadn’t yet discussed the terms of the employment with KM and I, although we had been waiting there several hours.

She had discussed KM's terms with her before lunch, so when we went for lunch, KM warned me not to accept terms that were too low. KM said that the lady was very shrewd and calculative, and that she could not quite figure her out yet, but overall, the impression that she got left her with an unsettled feeling. I was yet riding happily on a cloud of anticipation, and nothing in the interview had yet triggered any alarm bells. But warned by the terms offered to KM ($6 per hour for the first month and $6.50 per hour for the second month and above), and the remark made by the lady that KM was not to tell me of her own terms because I was to be offered less due to lack of experience, I decided that I would scrutinize all the proposals and offers made to me when the time came for me to discuss my own terms.

The final interview opened with the lady being very approving of the little piece of data entry that I had made for her. A little was said about the time I would start work, and a little more about little bits of stray information. There was an elderly guy with her, who was apparently one of her senior staff. The two of them seemed almost to have concluded the discussion on my employment already, but no mention had yet been made of the terms I was to be employed by. I decided that this was too shady, and launched the subject myself with a: "So, the indicated terms are acceptable?" I had previously indicated $6.50 an hour, a standard market rate for temporary administrative jobs. I hoped with this quasi-offensive move, I could bring her to the subject that she seemed to be shying away from and resolve any potential disagreeableness once and for all. She was temporarily off-guard, but apparently had been thinking over the subject and had reached a decision already. The offer she laid on the table was $600 a month, "as per your previous employment terms". That 'previous employment' was an internship with a law firm, and the common understanding is that an internship pays less because students learn career related stuff during an internship. Here was an administrative job, which looked to have a hefty dose of data entry (the boringest, most tedious and most brainless office job imaginable) thrown in, and it was going for the same rate! This would average about $2-3 an hour, and upon my word, even a cheap job at a café would pay $4.50 at a minimum!

I wanted the job, but even that was a bit too hard to swallow. I tried to turn the conversation towards structuring the terms in an hourly rate, because if they had to offer an hourly rate the clear contrast between $6.50 and $2-3 would be most immediately apparent. Then this elderly guy told me that a fixed monthly rate would 'ensure greater security' which was absolute twigglesquash because the lady had earlier indicated that she wanted me to stay for a fixed term of three months so that all the training they gave would not be wasted. Fair enough, I had thought. But then why would I want the purported greater security of a (low) fixed monthly rate if I was going to stay for a fixed 3 months anyway?

Heaven help us, but that elderly guy was the most fitzwoggling hoodwinker I ever had the misfortune to come across. He tried to dazzle me with some outlandish notion that payment by the hour came with a greater expectation that would involve snagging a certain number of customers per day via telemarketing. Actually, one customer every two hours was the rate he came up with. I think he wanted to make it sound impossible, so that I would happily settle for the monthly rate, but I decided not to try to engage him on the reasonableness of those terms.

I realised that there was no compromise to be made in terms of pay. I was not paying $240 per month to stay in PGP for a fun vacation, or on some idealistic notion of gaining work experience that I need not worry about the bottom line. Business people have their own bottom lines, but this is no less true for (poor) working students who look for temporary jobs.

But in the wake of high indignation comes the sobering weight of many thoughts.

It is a moot point that the offer on those terms was an out-and-out scam, or attempted scam; the question is why they even wanted to take it this far.

There is a possibility that the low offer was a subtle indication that they did not want to hire me for lack of experience instead giving me the chance to reject it myself, but if that was so, they could have told me so straightaway, from the very outset. The fact that they took 4 hours to tell me that they would offer me $600 a month shows that they envisioned employing me, at least. There is also a possibility that they might have wanted to employ KM and not me, but telling me no directly would send the both of us off immediately. But this possibility is rejected for they could have told KM 'yes'’ immediately and me 'no' immediately, and left it up to the decisions of the both of us, as this what things would ultimately come down to.

So we are left with the conclusion that they wanted to employ me, and they wanted to employ me on those ridiculously low terms. The next question is why they wanted to do this, and why they even thought it was possible that I might accept such an offer. It is dreadfully hard to imagine pecuniary motives behind the decision of a media firm to undercut a temp worker some $300-400 a month-- it would hardly make a difference to their bottom line. There was lots of work flowing in and out and they were actively hiring several temp staff to help with the workload. Thus, they probably did not do this because they were hard up for money. Did they then do this because that lady, being a shrewd businesswoman, saw that I was a naive, innocent and inexperienced student and thought that this was a great opportunity to undercut someone who would probably take it very happily? Did she think that I was born yesterday? I wouldn’t put it pass her. As to how they thought it possible that I would take it sitting down, I have two surmises: 1) I had clearly written on the form that my previous pay was such an amount and maybe she thought that I had a really low threshold and would accept pay on such measly terms. On that matter, I later made it very clear to her that an internship was related to my studies and it was obtained through the school, two things that the offered job was not. 2) I had shown too much frank eagerness for the job and too enthusiastic a willingness to take it up and 'learn from the experience' and would thus be less concerned about the pay and could safely be offered what was clearly way below what she was prepared to pay. If this was a factor in her consideration, that is plainly despicable and borders on the fraudulent.

On this matter, I have two things to say: 1) I decline to be a fluffy white sheep and bleat contentedly while my hide is skinned off me. 2) May this and every such experience sink into my heart and form the bedrock of suspicion on which I shall judge all such situations in future.

KM tells me that various things that were said to her in her interview, as well as how she feels about that lady, as well as how I was treated, have combined to make the prospect of her own job rather distasteful to her. KM says the claustrophobic office environment also does not help matters. KM says that although the prospect of the pay and the steady job for 4 months is very welcome, she has no guarantee that they will treat her in good faith. KM later called them and rejected her own offer that had been left standing. KM is a darling and deserves three cheers and a hug.

"Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb. Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed... Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday... Cease from anger and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil... The wicked plotteth against the just, and gnasheth upon him with his teeth. The Lord shall laugh at him: for he seeth that his day is coming." Psalm 37:1-3, 5-6, 8, 12-13

It might be perfectly painless reading and memorising the mugger notes that someone else has prepared for you, but when I look at a past year exam question and think of how I will be expected to face something like this in about two days time, I suddenly get a very strong inclination to break out a bar of chocolate.

Note to self

Lousy as it was, it's over. You need to drop it and move on... Come on, MOVE.

Sprains and Growing Pains

Sprained my right ankle during basketball tonight. Not a very serious one, but enough to put me out of commission for the rest of the game. As with all sprains mild or serious, this started out feeling perfectly fine, but I knew from past experience that if I started running about and jumping on it it would swell up to fill my shoe in no time. I retired to the sidelines and sat out the rest of the game.

I put my leg up, but even then I half imagined that my foot already felt tighter in my shoe. But wriggling both feet, I was almost sure that it wasn't. I knew that it was a real sprain, but not wrenched with quite as much force as some of the previous ones, so I had some hope that I would not be incapacitated for the next few days. After resting awhile and being sure that my foot was not going to swell some more, I walked very slowly and carefully back to my room.

There was a little mild swelling around the ankle, where the ligament had been wrenched. I was only glad that it was not any worse. I berated myself for going out with an ankle guard I knew to be so loose that it was a miracle if it supported anything at all. That ankle guard was in fact almost drooping down to my ankle, but I had not gone to buy another one. Ok, ok, so I asked for it.

I can remember three other sprains, on both feet I think. The most recent one before this was immediately after the exams ended two semesters ago. We were playing basketball in celebration of our new acquired freedom, when one of my unprotected feet stepped on someone's foot and took a hefty twist. I literally heard the crunch of the shifting bones and ligaments, almost as if the ankle was rearranging itself. It would turn out to be a very bad sprain, but strangely enough, I felt as right as rain at that time barring a little tenderness in the foot, and even managed to continue playing, until my foot swelled to fill the shoe, and I realised that something was not quite right.

The swelling acquired then took several months to completely subside, and for the first few days, I was almost totally incapacitated, and walked with a severe limp.

About a year and a half before that, I was walking down the stairs of the boarding school in which I stayed, on my way to a flag day centre to return a tin which I had filled earlier that morning. Stupidly turning around to see if my friend was coming, I missed a step and landed wrongly and heavily on one foot, which twisted under the force and sent me sprawling. I sheepishly picked myself up, and deciding that the foot felt alright, went on to return the tin, and at night even went for the ASEAN seniors night -- and had to be carted back in a taxi, when the foot started swelling and hurting impressively halfway through.

Going even further back, there was this botched attempt at a straddle jump, which incidentally I had not done for ages, and had previously only done on a trampoline. Enough said.

The sprain and the aftermath usually embodied an astonishing lack of common sense, so this time I was resolved to be sensible, and took care to rest. With that rest and a bit of luck, it should be alright tomorrow, God willing.

Thinking on our mortality

Writing about the incident makes you all solemn, and reflective and want to think deeper about the meaning of life, to the extent that you are able to.

I hadn't been so concerned when the incident actually occurred. I had gossiped about it and then merrily gone off to play basketball with some friends. But now in the still of the night, in the solitude of my room, reflecting on what I know about the girl who jumped, I wonder again what could have driven her. I wonder how badly she is injured. I wonder how badly her clustermates are affected by this incident. I wonder how her parents at home feel, and whether they have even been notified. I wonder how she is doing now. I wonder if anyone is praying for her. I wonder what will happen if… I wonder about the stories that will grow up around this incident in future.

And I pray to the Lord that he will touch the girl with his healing hands, and comfort her and her family, and keep the people who have been most directly affected by this event. That he will preserve the life of the girl. That he will see her through this and back home again. That he will not forsake her at a time when she feels herself forsaken. Are not the lives of all of us in the hands of the Lord?

Driven over the edge

What follows in this post is total hearsay. I did not see the incident, nor the immediate aftermath, nor listen to the testimony of any eyewitness. Any information contained herein is true to the best of my knowledge but may vary to a greater or lesser extent from the actual incident.

The only thing I am sure of is that the incident actually took place.

Someone actually attempted suicide last night, two blocks away from mine.

It was said to have occurred at 5am in the morning. An American exchange student apparently jumped from the fifth level of that block, crashed through an awning four floors below and onto the tiled doorstep of the block. The girl apparently survived the attempt and is presumably being treated in nearby NUH at the moment.

Residents staying in the immediately neighbouring blocks were awakened by a sudden loud noise. A friend staying in that block was told about the suicide attempt by a cleaner summoned to clean up the aftermath. I myself noticed nothing out of the ordinary when I passed that block on the way to school for a lesson later that morning around 10+am. Even the cordons that were purported to be placed around the area immediately following the incident had been removed by then.

Examining the site of the incident at night, we could see the broken awning, but that was all that remained to tell of the horrific incident that had occurred earlier in the day. There were no bloodstains to be seen, a testimony perhaps to the effectiveness of the cleaners? or maybe to the ernest desire of the management of PGP and NUS to keep the incident as hushed up as possible? To be sure this incident would not cast a favourable light on them. Maybe they were concerned not to ruin the Centennial year with this incident. I had a wild thought of calling the media with a hot tip. But what did I know that I could tell them?

We were solemn and almost respectful at the site of the incident. A friend even made as if to pray to the departed (or so he thought) soul, but was quashed by the rest of us, saying the girl was not dead. Yet? I thought that it would hardly be a fortuitous thing to be living in block three now, and having to pass the site of the incident upon entering and exiting the block.

Conjectures abound as to why she jumped. Stress? Emotional problems? No one knows. And everyone is guessing.

Miscellaneous

My foot slipped in the shower and the force of the jerk coupled with soap on my foot yanked the strap of my sandal out of its socket. After trying in vain to stuff it back, I borrowed a spare pair of slippers from my clustermate, which are actually rather pretty, if a little worn.

I tried to be healthy and eat a pear after night basketball. It was at the semi-ripe stage that my mother favours more than I do, but I decided that I could do with a pear that night and ate it nevertheless. I usually prefer my pears at a very advanced stage of ripeness, such that when you peel it the flesh is slightly mushy, oozes sweet juice and exudes a rich fragrance. At home, pears hardly ever reach that stage, as they are always put away prematurely into the fridge by my mom. I have to take a pear or two out again, declare my ownership over them and insist that I control the time they are to be placed in the fridge.

However, that pear was not satisfying enough and I had two more Ferrero Rochers. Now, there are only three more Ferrero Rochers in the box I got for my birthday! Must hoard the rest, as comfort food during the tedious hours of study. No, I am not in the habit of dropping broad hints, why?

Transient Appeal

I learnt from a friend's blog that Rotiboy, the famed maker of coffee-biscuit-topped-butter buns, had opened a new outlet in Clementi, and resolved to take a look when I went there.

I had earlier tried that soft butter bun with the biscuit topping in Malaysia, attracted, as many were, by the fragrance of the baking coffee biscuit topping. I found it ... palatable, but it did not send me into paroxysms of delight as I might have expected from a fad food that had taken Malaysia and Singapore by a storm. It did not produce for me that psychological kick that some claimed to experience from eating it. To me, it had always been an ordinary, albeit warm and soft butter bun, with an ordinary, albeit crispy and fragrant biscuit topping. When I tried it again yesterday, the bun disappointed me as it had always done, with its inflated reputation and unremarkable flavour. The mystery of its popularity, I'm afraid, will always remain a mystery to me.

A quick look around the shops in Clementi revealed that other baking shops had no scruples in cashing in onto the Rotiboy fad. The biscuit topped bun appeared on the shelves of various other bakery shops, variously named 'Coffee Cowboy' (a rather catchy derivative of the original brand name), 'White Coffee Bun' etc. This was no surprise: Imitations abounded even in Malaysia; the first bun of this sort that I tasted was one that my brother bought from a hawker centre, even before I had heard the name 'Rotiboy'. Like the floss bun from Bread Talk before it, the coffee-topped bun was too easy to fake, although its creator claimed that the imitations did not manage to get the texture of the bread and the biscuit just right.

I personally thought that it was not hard to reproduce the flavour of fresh bun and crisp biscuit, provided you got the bun from oven to mouth quickly enough. I'd say that it was harder to imitate the mayonnaise dressing concoction that had provided the magic in the floss buns, a food fad that had seen its day, but lost its enchanted appeal quickly enough. Still, Bread Talk was wise to diversify and survives today by offering a range of other delectable breads, not least the floss bun, which people still buy today, if only for old time's sake. This is not something that I see Rotiboy doing -- the outlet in Clementi is designed only to churn out vast quantities of their famed creation, not for anything else. One wonders when the 3 million people in Singapore have on average eaten this somewhat oily butter bun some 5 times over the past 3 months, will Rotiboy still find that sales are as brisk as before. Like most of the other food fads, the first millions must be easy to come by, but at one point this flow of cash must decline. People will get tired of what is now a novelty, support will dwindle to a group of hardcore fans, and even these people do not eat the same butter bun everyday.

The Straits Times once carried an article on the various food fads that had come and gone. Before my time were Beard Papa cream puffs and portuguese egg tarts, then during J1 came the floss buns, which I had supported heartily enough, and now this? I just wonder how long this will last.

What is the point?

In having the inspiration to blog but not having the time; or

Having the time to blog but not having the inspiration? Both are equally unproductive.

However, I might remark that this impression of having some time on my hands is not only an illusion, but a disturbing one, representing a too laidback state of mind rather than any real excess of time. Today has been a very bland day, bland seminar, bland lunch, bland studying, bland dessert. Or maybe it is just my state of mind. Not bored, just ... very bland. Which is not particularly undesirable actually, I mean, life can't be all upheavals and thrills, can it? But it has resulted in a very bland blog, in which I talk about not having anything to talk about. But hey, this is actually a good frame of mind in which to study... and I had better get back to making out case summaries.

Chop, chop

I haven't blogged for some days again, and I haven't the time to indulge in nicely worded, juicy descriptions about some incidents and some thoughts of the past few days, not even for the satisfying feel of having blogged a large fat post. If I had time, I would talk about (in reverse chronological order):-

1) The twinge in my throat that I hope is not going to turn into a full blown sore throat again, and how much I rue that candy taken in the afternoon, and also whether this recent bout of flu has turned me into a bit of a hypochondriac (which means a person who keeps on thinking that she is sick with something).

2) The noisy, crackling affair that was the thunderstorm today, and maybe include a musing thought that while rainy days usually give me a nice, snug feeling if I am in my room, this one didn't. It was more of a nuisance which I couldn't wait for to stop.

3) The finished assignment, number 2, a few niggling doubts how I might have done it differently, and a reflection that if I actually grit my teeth and get down to the assignments I can actually finish them in decent time, and not have to keep them till the last hair-tearing minute, before rushing to school, red-eyed from the lack of sleep to turn them grumpily in to the lady behind the counter.

4) The finished assignment, number 1, which was late, which made me disgruntled and wondering how it could have been better.

5) The birthday party of a friend, and the stupendous buffet spread, with the four kinds of cakes, 7 kinds of pastries, 8 kinds of 糖水, 9 kinds of salad dressings, 10 kinds of seafood, 11 kinds of curries and a partridge in a pear tree. No, I'm kidding about that last. But the spread was unbelievable. So was the amount we ate.

6) Maybe a musing on how a Caucasian friend's family actually take their surname after the mother, as the father thought that his surname was too long, along with a bit on how the Chinese society would react if some guy actually took his wife's surname. He'd never live it down!

7) The birthday celebration. Yeah, I'm 22 already. The years just fly by don't they? Also to be included are many thanks for the people who got the stuff for it, and the many thanks for the people who got together to celebrate it, in the midst of the projects and assignments. Also a wry observation that after so many surprise parties, no surprise takes one by surprise anymore. But we can, you know, pretend, or pretend to pretend, which is actually more fun.

So, that was the week gone by. Is this not a good way of saying what you want to say in the most economical form? (But if one wanted to be really economical, one wouldn't blog at all; the point of a blog is not economy) Now the exams come.

Crummy weather

Well, I'm over the first phase -- the roaring inflamed throat, and past the second phase -- the blocked up and runny nose and the sporadic sneezes. I awoke this morning after having slept almost around the clock for the second night running, with a hope that I might finally be on the mend.

But this promise of an improvement is belied by the itch somewhere in my bronchial tubes. Although not very severe at the moment, I am reminded of it every time I take a deep breath. I find that an occasional cough seems to bring temporary relief. Not yet a full blown wheezing-and-uncontrollable-cough ensemble but a promise of one. I can hardly wait. Blame it on the crummy weather. People are falling ill left and right.