Booty Call

After a two-year long hiatus, BooTay makes her debut reappearance! This can only mean one thing - the BooTay's gonna get some wet n wild action...

First stop, Tanah Merah.

After finding our way through some lalang (tall, wild grasses) and shrubbery, we reach an expansive shore, lit by the light (not the beam but the light) of the silvery moon and vessels at sea, docked in the distance. We can even see the CBD skyline from here... quite hard not to miss that wheel-in-the-sky (that doesn't always keep on turning).

I haven't been out to the shore at low tide for about 2 years and haven't been blogging about such trips for just as long, so I'm a bit out of touch lah. The pictures are also a bit overexposed because it's the first time I'm using this particular camera for pre-dawn photography, and I have yet to figure out if there's a way to adjust the intensity of the flash.

So here we go...

Ghost Crab

Anemone

Filefish

The BIGGEST slug I've ever seen!

The prettiest slug on shore

Sea grapes

Purple climber crab

Lazy onch hitching a ride on a nerite

I am Prawn, master of disguise! Earghhh!! Darn my Willy Wonka eyes!!

I am Gong-gong, the real master of disguise! Muahaha--- arrghhh! Darn my foot-mouth syndrome!

Now here's the real deal... How many fish can you spot in this picture?

In between jobs

After I left Singapore Airlines and before leaving some of my other jobs, I attended several interviews for positions at quite a number of places. Most of the time, these were for Graphic Design or Marcomm posts, but I also applied for Customer Service positions and a few other generic jobs.

I usually ‘feel my way around’ at the start of an interview first to decide right away if I’m interested or not. Usually, it’s the initial ‘connection’ with the interviewer. Is he/she gonna be the person I’m working under? Does he/she seem pleasant enough? Is he/she faking it?

The longer the interviewer puts up a front, the longer I do too. If he/she seems genuine from the start, then so am I, and we see if we can connect. If I don’t like what I ‘feel’ from the start, then I usually just switch off and let the interviewer carry on as I decide what I’d like to have for lunch or wonder what’s on TV later.

Some interviewers act all bossy and strict, as if to come across as being professional and to test if an interviewee can handle the pressure. I think it’s stupid, cos if that’s really the plan, then that means he/she isn’t a boss, but just wants to BE the boss of you. That means he/she usually just bullies employees into getting things done.

I always believe that people should work for someone out of respect, not fear. Why be a leader commanding an army of men who fear you, when you can be a leader who commands people who RESPECT you. Bullies are just pricks with no balls.

Then there are the worthless half-wits who probably saw “Flight Attendant” on my resume and thought they’d call me in for an interview just for the heck of it. They don’t bother looking at portfolios or asking about graphic software proficiency. NOOOO… They just want some eye candy, hope that I’ll turn up in a skin tight kebaya with a slit that runs right up my thigh and maybe even luck out with a lap dance after some coffee and tea. #%*!@ morons! And they always, ALWAYS ask the same thing. “Waaaah, so you were a stewardess ha? Must be very glamorous ah. Why you quit?”

There was this guy who said I didn’t LOOK like a designer. There was this other guy who said my work wasn’t any good. There was this dude who said that all staff were ‘advised’ to spend every Friday night getting wasted together at a club as part of their office ‘teambuilding’ effort. And then there was The Butch.

Yeah, the scary butch whose desk was a chaotic clutter of papers, files and stacks of gold 555 cigarette boxes. She sat with her legs so wide apart as if she had more between them than any man, mammoth or bull had. I guess what’s worse than a bully with no balls is a butch bully with too much.

Before I joined the wine company, I actually worked at this one place in Singapore for just two days. It was a Customer Service position in a small outdoor-advertising company, located in the ‘ulu-ktulu’ Kaki Bukit industrial area. I insisted that I did not want to be a designer in their Graphics department, and the director was quite happy to hire me as Customer Service cum personal assistant. The pay was good, and throughout the interview, she discussed how I could “glow” with the company.

The only problem was the company was tiny. The office staff were made up of ONE admin/office manager, ONE accounts person, and me. There was another director, a few sales people and a small team of graphics people I never met since I got out of there while the ice was still intact.

The office manager was a married, but very effeminate middle-aged man. He was ol’skool. I mean, the typical chinaman-stingy-as-hell ol’ skool sort. My first day at work, he passed me a form, on which I had to sign a confirmation that I had received ONE blue ballpen, ONE pencil (no sharpener), ONE half-used eraser, ONE stapler, ONE row of staples, and get this, ONE paperclip. I had just come from “The Club”, where Jacky the supplies guy allowed us as many pens as our hearts’ desired and paperclips came by the box. But here, I had only ONE clip... One clip to bind them all... My precious...

The first half of the day was spent in ‘shock treatment’ orientation, with the stingy sissy showing me around the tiny office. Only He held a ‘special pass’ for the photocopier machine, and there was just ONE computer in the office, which also had ‘exclusive’ internet access, to which only He held the password.

If I needed to photocopy something, he’d have to approve it first and then reluctantly tap his ‘special pass’ at the copier. If I wanted to print something from the internet, he’d take a look at it, and say that we shouldn’t waste ink and paper. So I’d have to copy EVERYTHING down on an old piece of recycled office stationery with my ONE blue ballpoint pen.

The next segment of Shock Therapy was Filing 101. This old man probably never stepped into a Popular Bookstore before. It wasn’t as if the company was those “Go Green” sort. Plastic L-shaped folders and file dividers were unheard of here. Instead, I was instructed to cut up leftover scraps of glossy art paper and card stock from rejected colour proofs, to form makeshift L-shaped folders and file dividers, joined flimsily with sticky tape (I had to ‘borrow’ the cutting tools and sticky tape from the manager of course).

The final part of Shock Therapy was Literal Shock Treatment. This happened each time I went to the toilet. Switch on the toilet light – ELECTRIC SHOCK. Switch off the light – ELECTRIC SHOCK again. I could actually see sparks fly out of the light switch as the live current ran from my poor forefinger right to the nerves around my funny bone. I think it even tickled my armpits a little.

The office was also quiet, VERY quiet. No radio. No chit chat. No mad typing on keyboards or mouse clicks since there was just that ONE very special computer in the office. So I sat there at my empty desk, with my newly made paper files and MY PRECIOUS pen and paperclip, hoping I didn’t have to pee again, and praying I wouldn’t let out a sneeze, squeak or fart that would break the already awkward silence.

That night at home, I kept telling myself, “You need this job. You need the money. You need this job…”

So the next morning, I actually went back for more. I really can’t remember how I got through this second day. I think the director gave me an assignment, and I had to look up companies in the directory, make cold calls, make follow-up calls, and contact event companies for quotes for a joint-pitch for this really big job that I knew this place couldn’t handle.

I also went to the back of the office to grab more scraps of art card, and lo and behold! The ‘HUGEST’ grandfather cockroach ever! Shock therapy complete. I called in sick the next day, gave some bullshit story the day after, and never showed up again.

It really sucks to be in the ‘in between jobs’ stage. You’re either desperate to leave your current job, or desperate to get a job cos you already left your previous job because it reached a point where you said, Enough is enough! But being and feeling desperate sucks. Being piss broke sucks even more. Being desperate, piss broke, AND in debt sucks the worst. To make matters worse, you go for interviews where people try to bully you or tell you you’re not good enough. You get so desperate you actually take on jobs that you know in your gut isn’t right for you. Trust me, I know.

It’s not really a proud “been there, done that” moment. But it’s an experience that you will go through, a hardship that you WILL overcome, so that you can give others who are in the same boat Hope, because you survived.

There may not be fairytale endings, but clouds do have silver linings. Bet your bottom dollar, the sun DOES come up tomorrow. And believe it or not, miracles do happen. So hang in there, cos it might just be a day away.

Where everybody knows your name

Since I’m not working, I have all the time in the world to do nothing much, except look back and laugh at myself or others. As I’ve already started on the subject of work, I’ll write a post each for places I’ve worked at in the past.

After my one year at “The Club”, I worked at a wine and spirits company in Singapore. Like the job before, my title at the company was always vague. Sometimes referred to as the Graphic Designer, sometimes Marcomm Assistant or Executive.

My job was simple enough. In-house designing for the company brand, such as logo re-design, magazine & press ads, website design, signage and displays, packaging, and mainly point-of-sale design collateral for the company’s customers, like tent cards, wine menus & posters for restaurants, pubs, hotels, etc.


It was at this company that I learnt to leave work on time. Not because I was finally good at time management, but because almost everyone left on time. It was a small company of about 24 staff back then, and the office was located in a building in the Tampines industrial zone.

A hired bus shuttled employees at this ‘ulu’ building to and from Tampines bus interchange in the mornings and evenings, so every evening, at exactly 6pm, everyone would hurry down to catch the bus at 6.15. If u missed this bus, you’d have to walk quite a distance through this dark and quiet industrial area to the nearest public bus stop.

You can’t help but want to leave with everyone else because by 5.55pm, the ladies would start packing their little handbags, shutting down their computers, tidying up their desks and counting down the seconds. Some would even make calls to each other to find out if the other party was all set to go. Like, “Oy So-and-So, u ready oredi? Ok see u”, or “Ay So-and-So, five-fifty-five oredi… balik loh”.

They HAD to get home on time each day to watch the latest episode of the current Chinese drama series on TV. (And of course the next morning there would be the usual discussion of the drama that took place on TV screens across Singapore, over breakfast).

So most evenings, I actually left work at six-pee-am on the dot. This was cool, although it was a bit of a culture shock cos I was so used to reaching home when it was already dark, so some evenings I’d simply jalan-jalan around Tampines Mall or someplace for a few hours till it felt more ‘normal’ to go home.

Because I finally had free evenings, I decided to take my Higher Diploma in Mass Comm as a part-time course, attending classes about 3 times a week after work. This was the start of introduction into the typical Singapore work-culture – working full-time and constantly studying part-time to attain something ‘higher’ – a diploma, a cert, a degree, or whatever we presumed we needed to give us “added value”. But taking this Mass Comm course was a good thing, even if not to “add value”, I was reading and writing again, something I’d hardly done since I left school.


It was crazy though. Reading stacks and stacks of books, writing stacks and stacks of papers within almost-impossible timelines. After living in Singapore for almost 5 years, I finally stepped into a library… and I was hooked. I had a premium membership which allowed me to borrow 8 books at a time. Most were for reference from the extensive list of books we were advised to read. And later, after I graduated, I’d still borrow loads of other books – design & photography stuff, food & cooking, nature & the environment, early childhood education & natural history. I guess I behaved at a library like how some behave at an all-you-can-eat buffet, grabbing as much as I could carry even if I knew I couldn’t consume it all.

Anyway, back to work. Of course there were nights when I did have to work till 10/11pm. Khim and Janet worked till really late very often too. It was quite scary if you were the only one left, because all the lights in the building and other offices would be out and you'd literally have to feel your way along the pitch black corridor towards the lift. I seriously can't imagine what I'd have done if I suddenly felt or heard something other than the usual empty space ahead of me one of those nights.

My messy workspace

In the office, most of us sat within earshot of each other, except for the Accounts department and the directors' rooms. Khim and I worked directly under Flora, the Sales & Marketing Manager, and we got along really well. It was impossible for me to not get along with Ida, cos we had the same shared love for non-stop snacking and idle chit-chat.

More of my messy workspace. This was also where anyone could leave snacks n goodies, so my workspace was also where everyone (even The Boss) came to binge.

Karen was a lot tamer than the rest of us, but there were times when she would really flare up if The Boss or the sales people pissed her off. She and Sabrina (the Accounts girl for our ‘sister’ or ‘mother’ company) lived in Pasir Ris too, and there was a time when they actually convinced me to join them at the Community Centre for Aerobics class.

Larry is the sweetest and most patient guy we know, and he never, EVER loses his cool. He sat to my left, and in front of Ida, and I still have no idea how he could tahan the two of us chatting non-stop from 9 to 6.

James, The Boss's uncle (and brother to one of the richest men in Singapore) sat behind me. He's a really humble and friendly guy, and never really bothered anyone about work much. It was all about his wine cabinets for him, so as long as you helped him design pamphlets and ads, or fax this and that, he was happy. He would ta-pau really really good food for us all the time, like the best ‘chye-tau-kuei’ (raddish cake) in Singapore, the best curry puffs in Singapore, the best pies in Singapore… it always had to be from the best stalls/shops.

James used to ‘cover’ for me a lot too. You know how, the people who live closest to the office are always the latest to get to work? Khim lives in Jurong and Ida lives in Commonwealth but they’re at work by 9 each morning. I live in Pasir Ris and the office is about 20-mins away by bus, but I was always late. Sometimes 9.15, sometimes 9.30… sometimes even close to 10! The Boss would come in at around 9.45, and some mornings he’d be unusually early, or I’d be exceptionally late.

This was the usual ‘Bernie’s-Late-For-Work-Again Cover Up' :

1. I’d SMS Khim to let her know
2. She’d switch my computer on and inform the rest that ‘operation cover-up’ was in action
3. The boss would walk-in, pass my desk, notice me missing and look at Ida or James for an explanation
4. Ida would point in the direction of the toilet and say “Stomach ache” or James would point upwards to signal I was on the roof (I would usually go to the roof for a ‘breather’ or to work with spray-mount for posters or spray-lacquering cards)
5. I’d finally arrive at the office and leave my bag with the building’s receptionist, then cool-ly walk into the office as if I’d been there since 9, knock on the boss’ door and say, “You were looking for me?”

This was the super cool thing about working in a small company where everyone was like one happy family, and everyone shared the same dislike for authority, or “The Boss”… even the boss’s uncle!

Khim and I

Ivy, Nick, Trovan and Joel were in Sales. Ivy was loud, brash, quite vulgar, but the best in her field. Nick was a lot more reserved. Trovan and Joel were the younger guys, and Joel was the messed up shortstuff with the scary girlfriend I mentioned in an earlier post. Ida would refer to him as 'cicak kering' (skinny/dried lizard) cos he'd slink into work each morning, sneak up to my desk, and try out his 'Line of the Day' on me.

I remember one time, he approached my desk with a copy of the New Paper and said, "Miss Chi-i-i-n... We should go for this together?" It was a small advert in the papers, calling for contestants for Mr & Ms Chinatown!!

With Ivy, Karen, Ida, Larry and Khim

We were allowed to have the radio playing during work, and Ida would sing or hum along to songs most of the time, even if she didn't know the lyrics or the tune. "Under Pressure" was Khim's song, since she was always stressed out especially when The Boss wanted this or that changed for the millionth time. James would always make fun of names of callers or company names, like "LL" or "LJ".

If we ever had to take the crowded MRT heading West from Tampines after work, we were always assured an entire row of seats with the expert gestures of Ida, our official 'MRT Seat Blocker'. She'd target an empty row as the train slows to a halt, brisk-walk in, take the seat in the centre of the row, spread her arms out like a mother hen, then call out to us, "Ah, come, come!". No one else would dare take these seats, and embarrassed but giggling like schoolgirls, we'd sit and chat all the way to City Hall and beyond.

2006 Reunion with Karen, Khim and Ida

Now the oddest thing about me working in a wine company is that I don’t drink. I used to get really bad allergies if I drank the slightest bit of alcohol. Less than half a glass of beer or wine and a rash would appear on my arms within an hour, spread all over my body, and stay for a day. Long Island Tea or Tequila shots would hit me within 20 minutes and the rash would stay for about 2 days. And nothing helped – anti-histamines, jabs, calamine lotion, scratching till my skin was red and bare…

So you could say I missed out on all the ‘fun’ when we had wine dinners, wine tasting sessions, wine training for staff, and the occasional special lunch when managers or directors brought us out to celebrate someone’s birthday, farewell, promotion, Chinese New Year or just cause.

Everyone's birthday was an excuse to have cake and lunch treats.

I must especially mention Derek, one of the directors. He's what I'd call the hardcore wine guy, with a personal cellar full of dusty old bottles plastered with labels like Lafite, Petrus and the likes. He brought us out for 'power lunches' at nice restaurants - lunches that would stretch past 2 hours, pissing of our boss. 'The Boss' couldn't do much cos he was the young MD, whereas Derek was old-skool.

There was only one place to have lunch nearby - a sort of 'kopitiam' catering to the offices and factories within this industrial area. So quite often we had to rely on Larry to bring us to other coffee shops or food courts in Tampines cos he was the only one among us 'regulars' who had a car. Flora and the sales people brought us out for lunch quite often too, if they were around.

A group of people from very different backgrounds, all brought together by a similar interest, investment or just plain love for good food and fine wines, we were a small and happy family, for some time. Then, as usual, Change came along, this time by its other dreaded name, Restructuring.

People weren’t happy, and bit by bit the cookie crumbled. Ida and Karen left. I left. Khim & Flora left. Someone from Accounts ‘disappeared’. A few from Sales decided to sell something else. And as usual, just a handful stayed and survived, even till now. Though scattered all over the place now, we still try to meet up once a year, like a family at Chinese New Year reunion dinners.

2008 Reunion with Larry, Khim, Sabrina, Karen, Ida and Janet

I guess, one cool thing about job-hopping is that you (usually) make happy families along the way. The places you work may just be stepping stones, but sometimes, you form a bond with the people you meet on this never-ending road trip, and they will always be as much a member of your extended family as any uncle, aunt, ‘tai lo’ or ‘mui-mui’.

Should I stay or should I go?

I was kinda bored the other day and decided to visit the website of a social/recreational club I worked at 6/7 years ago. I like to do this sometimes. Y’know, see how previous employers are doing without me. See if they’re still using any of my designs or photos, or to note how crappy their current design/photos are and convince myself I’m better off without them!

What I saw on this club’s website puzzled me a little. Some of the staff who were there when I was there, are still here after all these years. And they were there years before I was there too. The odd thing is, this is a rather small place, with hardly any room for growth. If you were a manager here 8 years ago, you’d still be in the same position after all these years. And so they still are – department manager, assistant to the same manager, executive in the same department, with the same day-to-day job, seeing almost the same members doing the same activities, day after day.

I remember when I first joined this establishment, I took over the design and publications job from the PR & Publications Executive, Veron, who was leaving. She warned me that I’d have to work closely with one of the club members, who had generously agreed to offer his two cents' worth as Editor for the club’s monthly magazine. He was said to be a mean and nasty fellow, hard to work with, strong-minded, hard to please, and what not. I was advised to always order him a beer during our meetings, to keep him in good spirits. Let’s call him Mr X.

A few days into this job, I had my first one-to-one meeting with Mr X one night. It was almost impossible to maintain working hours of 9-to-6 (or the alternative 11-to-8 shift) at this place. My Mom used to say she thought this place was “illegal” and "very suspect" cos I’d come home at 11pm on most nights, and way past midnight on other nights, and even work on Saturdays and some Sundays.

So anyway, I ordered a beer for Mr X as so strongly advised, and he decided he’d like to have some satay and tahu goreng with his beer. This shocked everyone the next day, cos they said he never eats.

We didn’t discuss the magazine much, and I guess he was just trying to be nice since it was our first meeting. He was really excited when he found out I was from Malaysia, and the rest of our meeting revolved around stories of his adventures living and working in Malaysia many years ago.

After a few more one-to-one meetings and other PR and Publications meetings with the other member-advisors, I discovered that he could get rather bratty and annoying at times lah. I can’t remember if he ever made me cry. Must ask Shorbs this...

Yes, this is where I met Shorbani. She was 1 month (or 3 months?) into her job here as PR Executive when I joined, and we hit it off almost right from the start. ‘Almost’ because I used to be alienated from the rest of the PR team, with a little cubicle sandwiched between Alice, the GM’s secretary, and an empty cubicle which was used in the afternoons by Mr Yeo, a very friendly and likeable old man who worked sort of part-time, running errands for the office and doing little jobs like pasting stamps on envelopes.

He used to ta-pau lots of snacks n goodies for all the girls in the office too. I even remember one time when a cellphone company was giving out free helium-filled handphone-shaped balloons at City Hall MRT and he went around collecting them for anyone who wanted one.

Working in a tiny cubicle can drive one a little insane.

Our first PR Manager was Anna-Marie, and we got along really well during my interview for this job. Unfortunately she didn’t inform me that she was leaving, and left a few days after I joined the team. That left the PR department with just Shorbani, myself, and another PR Exec Esther, who was the most ‘senior’ in this tiny ‘department’.

Attending the Annual Staff Party the very first week I arrived;
Anna-Marie n Esther on the right.

Esther was an ok girl. She got along well with most of the members, knew how to work her way around them (that’s what PR is right?), and very popular with a few gross guys from the Sports department.

She wore A LOT of make-up. I wonder how she found the time each morning to paste those nasty little sticker-tape-thingies that gives a typical Chinese girl instant double-eyelids, and plaster on layers of electric-blue mascara. I remember she came in to work one day wearing the biggest sunglasses I had ever seen, and left them on the entire day, cos she whined about how she didn’t have time to do her make-up that day! But anyway, she really was a nice girl, and gave me lots of tips and pointers along the way.

I think it must be from my days at this place that I learnt what a big difference a short skirt and some make-up makes. I don’t mean it goes “a long way” as in doing kinky, slutty stuff. I just mean, guys can be such suckers!

Connie & Corinna are still working here, and I sometimes bump into Zul in Bedok.

They never promoted Esther to PR Manager, and only after a while, hired a new PR Manager (let’s call her Ms X). Esther left soon after, joining her buddy Veron. So I got to take over Esther’s desk in the “PR Room”, sitting right behind Shorbs.

We chatted A LOT. We chatted non-stop. We chatted so much Ms X would come out of her office (the door to her office was just two-feet from Shorbs’ desk) and say something sarcastic like, “Wah, you guys really talk a lot huh”. She never bothered to realize that even with the non-stop chatter, Shorbs would always be constantly typing and I would (most of the time) be clicking the mouse all the way to rodent-heaven.

With Esther gone, I had to take over the Tombola activities. Tombola (Bingo) nights were held on the first Wednesday of each month if I remember correctly. The “tombola guy” was this fella Jeya, who was always almost impossible to contact, and sometimes he’d forget and not turn up, and we’d have to conduct the session on our own. “Kucing berlari, 2-3 cat, run run run, twenty-three” --- “Lucky number eight” --- “Upside down, 6 and 9, sixty-nine”......

The only fun part about organizing Tombola was shopping for prizes and door gifts. With a very limited budget, Shorbs and I would go to Marina Square and shop for cheapo door gifts from the 1.99 store and spend a considerable waste of office time wrapping all the gifts.

Shorbs blames me for getting her addicted to coffee. Actually, many people I’ve spent a relevant amount of time with blame me for making them coffee addicts. I’d offer to make her a cup of coffee each time I made one, and soon, she was so hooked on coffee that sometimes she had to ask me to make her some coffee even when I wasn’t having any. I was like her personal 'drug-pusher'.

There’s something about instant Nescafe, sugar and loads of Coffeemate in those styrofoam cups that’s just special! It never tastes/feels the same even if I make it at home in a mug.

Shorbs and I were also partners-in-crime. Sometimes when I got my usual killer cramps, I’d pop some painkillers and curl up on the carpeted floor under my desk till the pain subsided, and she’d keep guard and make sure I didn’t get caught. As Forrest Gump would say, we was like peas and carrots.

Staff trip to Bintan.
Here we look like Siamese twins joined by one skinny arm.

We were really bad at time management, and this saw us working till midnight very often, and bringing work home too. The trouble was that we’d work till around 10pm, and be too lazy to take the train home by then. So we’d stay on till midnight or 1am to take the free staff transport home.

I remember Hamid, one of the duty managers who’d been working at the club for donkey years. Everyone loved Hamid, including the club members. Some nights he’d drop in and say in his deep pak-cik tone, “Girls… aren’t you going home?”

Soon, Raena joined the PR team, and was made to sit at a tiny cubicle just outside the PR Room. Unfortunately for her, this cubicle was also right at the front of the whole Club management office, almost right in front of the door. So she’d get people coming in, thinking she was the receptionist or office girl, asking her for directions, or to sign and accept deliveries.


Like Esther, Raena was soon a target for the lecherous and desperate guys from the Sports department (except for Mr Pau-yau-yee - he’s a sweet guy). Luckily, unlike Esther, she never wore short tight skirts or enough make-up to sink the Titanic (or a certain President’s jade boat), and the guys soon realized she wasn’t one to mess with.

The people in the Sports dept were really nice except for one very obnoxious fella. Let's call him Mr Mess-with-the-best-Die-like-the-rest, cos that's what he printed on all his files. He had a red tan and looked like a baked lobster in the smallest skin-tight shirts and even tighter pants. It was really an eyesore... too much butt on display if you ask me. He was a terrible flirt, and married!

We were glad to find out later that he finally did himself in. Apparently he had been sending lewd SMS-es to one of the girls, and she played along till she had enough 'data' to send to the cops. She charged him for sexual harassment, and he was sacked.

The Sports people probably avoided me like the plague though, cos I was always bugging them for photos and articles for the magazine, cos they never met deadlines. Merey, Kumar, Udaya and Andrew were really sweet people. There was Mr B who was nice, but also married and flirting with another girl. And then there was Mr P who was always interested in any new PR girl who came along. He was generally quite nice, but also pretty messed up. Poor fella. I hope he's alright wherever he is now.


By now, we also developed an addiction for Root Beer, and kept our stash of it in the teeny-tiny fridge at the back. We had to stock up on our own soft drinks cos the F&B guys were no longer allowed to give us free Coke. We’d still lepak at the Beer Garden some nights, drinking our own ice-cold root beer and complaining about Ms X, Mr X or other members or colleagues who got on our nerves.

Mr X and wife are actually nice folks; maybe just a little difficult to work with at times. There were other members who were genuinely nice too - Gilbert, Pauline, Gwen, Yvonne, Lawrence, Pandian... The gentlemen from Toastmasters seemed friendly too but I never had to work with them, so only Shorbs and Raena would know. And of course there were a few scary ones, like Mr & Mrs M from Bridge, and some of the dirty old men who usually drank themselves silly at B Lounge most nights.

The 3 of us at the Beer Garden with Shannon, the 'baby' of the team

Simon, the F&B manager at that time, was a gatal guy who used to work at Hooters. I remember I asked him once if one really needed big honkers to work at Hooters, cos I thought the pay there was so good. He told me to stick to my current job.

The F&B asst manager Ramesh was a really sweet guy who used to always give us free drinks before the new rule was implemented. And then there was Ayu, the F&B assistant who’s really loud and speaks REALLY fast. She was one crazy woman. She was quite a tomboy, and then she got married and would wear a tudung sometimes. Some of the other Malay colleagues were really bitchy and very critical of her, but she didn’t give a shit.

It used to be a real headache translating the Chef’s version of English into real English for the menus, which were updated every week. There were also two restaurants, a Japanese and a Chinese, which were let out to external parties. The manager at the Japanese restaurant, Ricky (also a bit gatal), used to give us good discounts if we dined there. The chawan mushi n fried udon here was yummy!

Andy, the manager at the Chinese restaurant, was a tall, good-looking (in a Tony Leung sort-of-way) guy from Hong Kong. Both these restaurants had standing contracts for advertisement space in the Club magazine, and Andy always wanted the most colourful, jang, ang-king-kong type of ad designed for him. Lots of red and other bright colours, lots of over-the-top effects, while still featuring almost every dimsum offering from the menu. There was a super special soup on the menu (the bowl covered with a puff pastry) that he let us try once, and it was exquisite!

We were allowed to makan at the staff canteen for free, and meals were usually cooked by the trainee or junior cooks. I remember one of the chefs named Freddie, a very friendly fella, but can’t remember who the other chef was. Usually there’d be rice and some dishes (like Chinese chup-fun style) and there would also be soup and dessert most days. Sometimes there’d be ‘specials’, like really good fish beehoon soup or pulut hitam.

Even though the free food was quite good, we ate out regularly too. We ate at Café Cartel a lot. If we walked to Marina Square to have lunch at Han’s, it would usually be with Karen, one of the HR girls. Karen & Lydia from HR were really sweet, and so were the girls from Accounts/Finance, whose cubicles were usually plastered with posters of Takeshi Kaneshiro and the boys from F4. Jacky was the stationery supplies guy and he was really nice too.


Being part of the PR dept meant that I was sometimes involved in the events and activities planned by the rest of the team, as well as some of the sporting events. Usually just to take photos, sometimes help with decorations or registration, or just to kaypoh about. Every month, the Dancesport Comm would have a themed dance night for the ballroom dancers and other members to dance the night away, all decked out according to the theme.

It was a real joke that no matter what theme, time, place, or music, the line-dancers (looked upon as not REAL dancers by the ballroom dudes) would find a space to do 'their thing'. I guess Wild Wild West night was their favourite, cos at least for once, they didn't look like sore thumbs in their cowboy hats and boots.

The 3 of us with Ms X on the left.

Christmas-time at the club was also a special time. The Maintenance guys pull out all the stops and decorate the club with enough lights to scare away the club at the other end of the field. A HUGE Christmas tree would go right in the middle of the lobby, and there'd be lots of Christmas parties to plan for the Kids' Club, the dance dudes and of course the Women's Wing, who every year without fail, would bring in the choir from the Eurasian Association.


Christmas Eve however was a nightmare. I wasn't allowed to apply for annual leave for Christmas so my family wasn't expecting me home. But I hoped to catch the last flight back to KL to surprise them. Everyone had left by noon as it was a half day holiday, but Ms X made be stay back till I finished some crap.

When I finally left the Club (at night!), it was impossible to get a cab. What with it being Christmas Eve, and standing right in the heart of the cab-unfriendly City Hall zone, plus, it was raining heavily! I remember I actually started crying as it dawned upon me that I might actually miss Christmas altogether. The sweet people at Front Desk were calling every cab company in the book, and Duty Managers were running up and down the street in the rain to get hold of a taxi for me. I finally managed to take the train to somewhere East-bound and made the flight.

My brother Andrew was really secretive about picking me up from the airport so my parents thought he was gonna pick up "a girl". We surprised them in Church halfway through Midnight Mass, and my parents were so happy cos it was the first time in more than 5 years that my whole family had been together cos we were all scattered across the globe since we were 20.

This Christmas was also the last time I saw my grandmother alive. I remember exactly, my dad saying, "You coming home this Christmas has made it the best Christmas for Mummy and I". And to think I could have missed all this because of work and Ms X. I will always remember her for this. For making me work, cry and lose hope on Christmas Eve.

Anyway, Raena, Shorbs and I were like the mad-trio from PR. We ganged up against Ms X cos she really was quite annoying. She wasn’t a bad person, just a bad manager. We used to make fun of the way she started every sentence with “Basically…”, and started every sentence to defend herself with “The thing is…”

I think she hated the fact that her office was like everyone's walk-in store and she couldn't feel like a big boss in a private office. Everything was stored in Ms X's office - files, files, files, a cabinet full of photos from every single event from as far back as photos existed (and the Club has been around since 1883, so that's a shitload of pics), vouchers, tickets, invites, cards, stickers, props, gifts, giftwrap, ribbons, balloons... It was like a mamak shop!

Anna-Marie didn't mind sharing this 'store-room' with us. And before Ms X, the place was practically ours. So when Ms X came on-board, she'd get so annoyed each time we walked in and out of her room, opening cupboards and cabinets, grabbing this and that.

She tried to do a major spring-clean by removing all the files from the cupboards and dumping them on us. We had hardly any space at our little desks, and Shorbs had a tiny rickety shelf that was falling apart. In the end most of the files were intentionally left haphazardly on the floor just to piss her off, cos now she had lots of empty space and 3 really mad girls to deal with.

She knew we disliked her, so this made things within our department awkward, unfriendly and just really fake. Shannon who was part of our ‘gang’ started siding Ms X more, so it really was always just us, the gila threesome, chincheongroy.

Raena's last night at the Club.

Then Raena left, and a month later, I left, and two weeks later, Shorbs left. Our days at the big brown block on The Padang were over. Now it’s finally safe enough to look back, remembering mainly the happy times, and wondering why there are still those who’ve stayed on for more than a decade.

I have actually always wished I could be like that. To find a simple job, be contented with a liveable and steady income, and just stay put forever. It’s not like I have big goals cos I always shy away from big positions and don’t mind staying at an Exec level forever. Art Director sounds too full of headaches and politics for me. Manager too. I wish I could just stay put in a happy workplace and not job-hop as much as I do. I’ve been working full-time since I was 19 and I’ve had 6 different employers from 1997-2006.

One of my former employers told me when I resigned, that the problem with people like me is I always expect more. Like say he gives me two dollars and I’m happy with it at first, but after a while, I want $2.50. Is it wrong to want more? Why can’t “people like me” be satisfied with 2 bucks? Or perhaps it’s because “people like me” get bored?

I really don’t think money is the deciding factor. I think I’ve always left a company because it stopped being a happy place. It didn’t become an unhappy place because of money. It stopped being happy because of CHANGE. Change in management, change in people, added politics, added drama, more work, same pay. So it’s not about having the same pay, but more work with added drama? Maybe.

It’s like you belong to a family, and home is a happy place. Then suddenly the head of the family is replaced with some new bugger. Or an annoying uncle or bitchy aunt is added to the happy home. Even worse when outsiders are added into the picture. The chickens are restless and they fly the coop.

It’s also not that I can’t accept change. After all, things change, people go their separate ways, life goes on, and so should you. We can’t just stay the same when all around us have changed or moved on, right?

Ok, so some people can. But “people like us” can’t.

I don’t think there’s a right or wrong, or if you’re better or worse if you stay or go. After all, I envy those who stay. Those who stay, the “people like them”, stick together in the comfort and familiarity of the same place, braving all the changes and drama that comes their way. “People like us”, leave and go our separate ways, but no matter where life takes us, we’re always “one” even when apart.


I guess it’s all about GROWTH. It doesn’t have to mean getting a bigger position or higher pay, but just taking that next step. Stepping out of the safe zone to find a happier place, or to build a new happy place. The crude way of putting it is, at the end of the day, it’s “people like us” who have the balls to take that next step, wherever it may lead us.

We leave the once-happy place behind, take the happy people with us, and once in a while look back without regret, and have the last laugh.

Parklane Pai-kia

The older we get, the more our memories fade. First we forget little details, then moments, and eventually even huge chunks of time. When I was around 21, I started some sort of journal, something I call my “I Remember… Book” in which I listed little bits of memories from as far back as I could remember. Every now and then if I remembered something, I’d add it to the list. Most of them were memories of the antics of my brothers and I as kids, like how we’d fling my Mom’s rotan (a thin but wicked strip of bamboo that she caned us with if we misbehaved) up onto the roof of our house. Quite often you’d hear my Mom yelling, “Si gin-na! Where did you hide the cane this time?!!”

Anyway, this post isn’t about my childhood memories, as I already have most of them jotted down in that journal somewhere in Singapore. Instead, here’s something from Ben’s ‘archives’. I may not get all the facts right since this is a second-hand account, so if anyone finds something wrong or really offensive, please do let me know.

Sometimes Ben recalls something from his past, not so much from early childhood but mainly memories from his ‘strayed’ adolescence, and happily goes on a long rant about it. Give him a couple more years and I’m quite sure he’ll forget more and more of these snippets of the past that he already vaguely remembers now.

Recently he told me about how he and his friends would go to Parklane every Saturday when they were teenagers… to just lepak or act cool or make a nuisance of themselves, I suppose. A whole group of about 20 of them would ride the double-deckered number 14 SBS bus from the East side of Singapore to the city and back. They would usually take up the entire top deck and… lepak, act cool, or make a nuisance of themselves lah. Back then, most of the buses weren’t air-conditioned yet, and this served these boys well since they could have the windows open, act cool, and make a nuisance of themselves some more.

The bus route would also take them past a particular house in Katong which always seemed to be having a ‘party’ on weekends. So they’d shout, “Oi, party bo chio!” (loosely translated to “got party, never invite”) It was only much later (in life) that they discovered this was a Sai Baba house of worship.

While waiting at bus stops, they also had this “sabo-routine” where all of them would stand in a line in front of the bus stop. As a bus came by, if one of them was standing where the bus door opened, he would be forced to dance in front of the bus. As fate would have it, the bus door would open in front of Cyril almost every time.

Around this same stage in their clueless teenage years, Ben and friends also picked up a Hokkien phrase from Desmond’s Mom. Apparently, she would sometimes be heard saying “Kam kio!”, which literally translates as “suck brinjal” in Hokkien. I guess we’ll have to check with Desmond if it was to be taken literally, or if it was just a figure of speech, like “holy shit” or like how my Mom and aunts always use the meaningless term, “ua-ko” (bowl-cake). But trust Ben, Desmond and guys to make use of this ‘colourful’ new-found term to their delight.

Sometimes, they’d hail taxis for no reason at all. The taxi would stop and then they’d say they didn’t want to take it. Or they’d mention absurd locations like “Uncle, Johor?” But the favourite joke on taxi drivers would be, “Uncle, ai kam kio?” (“uncle, wanna suck brinjal?”) The taxi driver would then say, “Ang Mo Kio?” and they’d say no and ask again, “Ai kam kio?”

So for our next trip back to Singapore, we have a short list of things to do:

1. visit ‘that’ house in Katong

2. ask Desmond’s Mom the real meaning of ‘kam kio’

3. get Cyril to grace us with a dance

Can we be friends?

For my short stay in Singapore, I managed to squeeze in a few trips to the library. Man... I miss Singapore libraries n access to so many good books! I miss being able to lug home a huge stack of books that I'd never be able to get my hands on if I had to actually buy them!

One evening when I was at the library in Bedok, I was looking for a particular book about Natural History in the Youth section of the library when a young boy approached me. He looked about 14, and asked me for the time. Not realising that he actually had a handphone with him, I gave him the time, and continued browsing. He didn't leave, and stood there next to me, touching himself nervously. I don't mean "touching" himself like you know where, but his hands were nervously wiping his brow, neck, chest... Y'know...

So then he says to me, You boleh cakap Melayu? and I was like, Ya. Pleased, he continues, You dari Indonesia? and I say, No, Singapore. So he says, Saya juga orang Singapore. From the way his eyes dart about as he twitches nervously, I can tell he's a bit "off" up there lah. But get this. As I inch my way away from him, he approaches slowly and asks, "Can we be friends?"

It was SO WEIRD! Most people mistake me for a teacher 'cos apparently I look like one, what with my striking nerdus maximus looks n mak nenek character. I knew this boy was a bit mental, but I was so embarrassed I just replied, SAYA SUDAH KAHWIN LAH! SUDAH TUA! And then he was lagi embarrassed n backed off immediately, saying Sorry ya, Sorry ya as he disappeared behind the bookshelves, tail n goodness knows what between his legs.

Sometimes it's amusing when I get carded for certain reasons n it's a compliment that some people still think I look 17. But to be asked by a 14-year old boy if I wanted to be his friend? That's some scary shit man!

But if I was still 14... Is that how kids make friends these days? Is that how WE made friends back in those days? Well, my Mom used to think I went to the library as a teen to look at boys! I studied in an all-girls school by the way. But NO! I wasn't that despo. (And anyway, I had Sunday School to keep me entertained!) Some girls would wait all year for "inter-school" events just to check out the boys (or girls) from neighbouring schools. I remember if your classroom faced the school field, your teacher would have a rough time getting the girls to pay attention when there were 20 LaSalle prefects running around in their PE shorts.

Making friends, back then, and now, hasn't changed that much I guess. Back then, in primary school, we'd get friends to "sign" our autograph books. We'd write poems n phrases in these books, like "Trees are silver---Leaves are gold---Remember me---When you are old" or some corny shit like that. Now you've got these "autograph books" online, with friends leaving you messages n wishes in your Guestbook, or sending you virtual gifts n such.

Some of us wonder how real or genuine friendships are in the virtual world, like on Friendster, Facebook, Multiply, and other online "social networking" (i.o.w. dating) sites.

I lost touch with many of my friends from school, and have recently reunited with many of them online. But I got to asking, why we lost touch in the first place if we really were friends. Some of them are girls I've known since I was seven! Classmates from Standard 1 right up to Std 6, we practically grew up together, playing games like Ibu Ayam & Helang, and that darn rubberband skipping game that I never could master. We celebrated birthdays, report card days, Hari Sukan...

We went off to the same secondary school, but were divided into different classes, made new friends. These new friends soon went off to different classes too, as we were later divided into Arts and Science streams. So we made more new friends, somewhat leaving the old ones behind. I guess it was a quiet understanding, like, you go your way, I go my way... but yea, I'll remember you when I'm old.

And of course back then, we didn't have emails and online albums n kawan-ster stuff. If I was still in Malaysia, perhaps I may not have even bothered looking up old friends online. We take for granted what's right in front of us, and search for love, friendship and some form of gratification in a world made up of bits, bytes n pixels. Perhaps with careers, studies, spouses, kids, and what nots to juggle, there simply isn't enough time and space for every single friend you've made since kindergarten. Everything and everyone is just whizzing by at the speed of light. So we're only able to appreciate how "roses are red and violets are blue" when we're seated calmly in front of a computer.

I guess the hard truth is, things in the real world have become so superficial that virtual reality becomes What's Real to most of us. So whether it's online, at the library, on the MRT, at the mamak... I guess we can make friends anywhere. It's not really the "where", "when" or "how" that matters, but "Why".

Tour of Non-Duty

Planned to write something about my trip home after returning to Dubai but procrastinated till now. Well, better late than never. Before leaving for Singapore/PJ in June, I wrote a post about my "Dubai blues". Well, I made my month-long trip back, recovered, and am back in Dubai, good as new.

The first significant thing I did when back in Singapore was my trip out to the intertidal zone in Changi with Wildfilms, the second day I was home. Great way to start off my getaway. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't "getting away" from my husband. Just Dubai itself - its intolerable service standards, etc etc... the list just grows n grows.


Lots of new sights greeted me in Singapore, like the horrid "Wheel" that's almost done, the new Ikea, Giant and Courts in Tampines, Sheng Siong in Bedok, and VivoCity.


I spent about 10 days in PJ and 20 days in Singapore. My time in PJ was quality time with family and buddies. I think I've had enough Nescafe Ais to last me the rest of the year, as I was out at the mamak with Nat on most nights, sometimes joined by Sher Hui and Wye Li. Also managed to spend an afternoon in Bangsar with Jamie.

Sometimes I feel like a celebrity back home as my many "Ah Ee"s take turns to "chope" me for lunch appointments and such. It felt really nice, and of course, anything to do with makan is great!


Back in Singapore, I joined Wildfilms on a few more trips during low tide to the shore and a few islands. These were really splendid too - being close to nature again, and my conversations with like-minded individuals like Ria and Chay Hoon.

Earlier Wildfilms footage were shot on tape, so there are a few hundred tapes that need to be digitised, and a lepak "tai-tai" like me always comes in handy for nitty-gritty jobs like these. So I lugged back "Ziggy" (our pet name for one of the small handicams), 500gigs of hard disk, and four boxes of tapes to be converted into digital format. This should keep me happily busy till 2008 too!

I've discovered though, that there's a big difference between tai-tai and housewife. A tai-tai has a maid. I am a housewife.


Another eventful "must do" in Singapore was attending Jo and Leong's wedding dinner. I was pretty zonked out that day as I had spent the early morning out on Pulau Hantu, but the wedding dinner was a really refreshing change to the dreary grey of Dubai life.


Typical Chinese/Singaporean style - lots of red and cheery colours, as pictured here. When I'm really tired, my hands get really shaky, so I didn't take any pictures but have compiled a few here, taken by Mei Ling and the wedding photographer.


I was seated with Louis, Rabind and Wayne, and some intimidating-looking guys I've never met before. Felt pretty lost especially since I was half-awake and attending this as "Ben's wife". Introductions to people were like this, Hey, you know Ben? --- Fatty Ben? or Ben the Chef? --- Yea, this is his wife, Mrs Fatty Ben.


I must say, even though this was like, what... only the second time I've met Leong, and one might ask who I am to comment, I think he looked really, really happy. I hardly got to see or speak to Jo 'cos typical in all Chinese wedding dinners, the bride always kena change baju like a Hong Kong superstar at a concert. It was a beautiful wedding, and I'm sure, the happiest day of their lives.

One thing I sure didn't miss when back in Singapore... no, two things:
1. Being made to feel fat just cos I wasn't like all 'em skinny-ass skanks around.
2. Being told that I speak "very good English for a Malaysian".

I mean, what's up with people presuming that Malaysians can't speak English. If you sat in a foodcourt in Singapore, no, not even food court... If you were seated in a nice restaurant in Singapore, you'd notice that all the chatter around you is in Mandarin. Many Singaporeans think they speak "good" English just 'cos they begin each sentence with words like "Basically..." and try to sound eloquent by saying things like "forget a-bow-rit" and "am I right or am I right?"

First of all, there's no such thing as "good English". Learn to speak proper English, get your grammar, Ps n Qs right, before you go 'round questioning another's language proficiency based on nationality.

It's bloody annoying and such an insult when people ask, You're Malaysian? Are you sure? You speak such good English, I thought you're Singaporean. You studied in Singapore or overseas is it?

I'm Malaysian, I studied in Malaysia, I don't hold a degree, and I speak proper English. Lots of Malaysians do. Wake up....

Ok, back to happy stuff. What felt really good about my trip home was the amount of "me-time" I had. Ya, I know I don't work in Dubai so I have full access to "me-time" here too. But when I was in Singapore and PJ, I was a housewife on holiday!


No need to cook! No need to jaga the big baby! No need to worry about groceries. Hungry? Just walk out to the nearby kopitiam and be spoilt for choice. I didn't even have to make my own coffee. Just 80 cents gets me a nice cup of kopi pua sio. So shiok!


I met up with friends, mother-in-law, father-in-law. Mizan works at the i-Shop in Cineleisure, so he was one of the first few people I met and he even gave me a discount on the adapter for my Powerbook. I had a late lunch and coffee with Razmi just before he went off for National Service, and konlomee with Raena and Shorbs! Dinner with Ben's friends, as well as with my ex-colleagues from Crystal Wines.


I also met up with Peng a few times for kopi or makan. I told him I planned to ta-pau half a roast duck to bring back to Dubai for Ben, and he went ahead and bought it for me. Peng also introduced me to the latest drink fad, those awful cans of "Anything" or "Whatever"! And I finally met Brownie, his chow chow puppy!


All in all, it was a marvelous trip, and it was even nicer knowing that the end of the trip would signal my return home to Ben, so leaving didn't feel so bad. The housewife, refreshed and rejuvenated, is back on duty.

The red n white pack

Dubai n Singapore aren’t all that different, or perhaps very different, being that each have “qualities” unique to them. Ben n I have come up with a collection of images n things that we find “Uniquely Dubai”. I shan’t list them down here but just highlight a couple.

On my flight from SIN to DXB in July, the lack of video-on-demand got me flipping thru the in-flight magazine n duty free catalogue. When I was on the Duty Free allowances page, two countries stood out from the rest in the cigarettes category. Singapore is the only country that does not allow duty free cigarettes, with NIL boldly stated and a note mentioning a hefty fine plus probably other scary words like PROHIBITED.

While other countries allow 200-400 sticks, the UAE, as one-of-a-kind as Singapore, allows 10,000 sticks. Yes, TEN THOUSAND! No typical UAE typo error here. The odd thing is, following in Singapore’s footsteps, Dubai is trying to be a “smoke-free” city by 2008.


Apart from the ability for each passenger to bring in 50 cartons of Marlboro, Dubai displayed a different show of red n white recently. The 2nd NDC @ UAE was held last Friday at the Movenpick Hotel - the Singapore National Day Celebration in the UAE, organised by a dedicated group of Singaporeans, with support from the Consulate-General of the Republic of Singapore, IE Singapore, STB n many other sponsors.


Ok, time for a bit of flashback and intro to people.

I was informed of this event last month by Mabel n Chi Lin, whom I was introduced to by my friend Merey from Singapore. I met Merey when I was working at SRC some years ago n she was the Sports Manager there. We didn’t know each other that well n I think she tried to avoid me at most times ‘cos each time I bumped into her, I’d be reminding her of deadlines n chasing her for articles n photos for the Club’s newsletter. We lost touch after she left SRC n met again a few years later when I joined BWV. A few of us in the Reefwalk group organised a trip to Kota Tinggi, including Merey, her husband Eng Wan n son Reef.

Eng Wan was working in Doha last year, so on one of her visits to Doha, Merey stopped by for a short stay in Dubai with her friends Mabel n Chi Lin. Chi Lin, who works for IE Singapore, was posted to Dubai this year n Mabel joined him here in June. So that’s how I know Mabel n Chi Lin, and came to know about the NDC.

Ben n I invited Andrew n Arman along but unfortunately, they couldn’t make it since it was being held on a Friday, busy day for people in the F&B line. Andrew’s our chef friend from Singapore whom Ben n I knew from our days at Gourmet Cellar. He’s the Japanese chef at a Japengo outlet here.

Arman’s the Chef at a Noodle House outlet here. I met him when he first arrived in Dubai last December, back when we were living in Ewan Residences in ulu-land. We took the same shuttle bus to the nearby shops and he asked me for directions and found out that I was Malaysian/Singaporean n I discovered that Andrew was his smoking kaki since both their restaurants are located in the Madinat Jumeirah.

Ben invited Jac along, a HR Management Trainee at the Burj Al Arab. She’s the only other Singaporean working there.

Ben was excited about this event especially since I told him they’d be showing snippets from the National Day Parade. I remember how homesick he was last year, his first National Day away from home. So when I was back in Singapore in June/July, I searched the whole country for the Singapore flag to bring back to Dubai. EconMinimart, NTUC, Giant, Carrefour, souvenir shops, Community Centres… (flashback again).


Whether it's in town or the suburbs, none of the shops are selling the flag. The only red n white I see is the latest lian-trend - mini white shorts n ugly red patent PVC stilletos or wedges. It's my last day in Singapore, and still no flag.

I start calling all the Community Centres in the East side, and finally one in Tampines says, Yes, we have the flag! Two dollars only. So I rush over, and when I ask the lady at the counter about the flag, she says, There, this one! and points at a mini-flag that drivers clip to their car’s radio aerial.

No, aunty, I want the big flag, the one to hang on balcony one. Aiya, that one don’t have yet. Still early, RC haven’t sent to us. A second aunty joins in the conversation n I explain that I live in Dubai n will be leaving Singapore in a few hours n my patriotic husband gets homesick during National Day, etc.

Both aunties look so sympathetic n start calling the various RCs, CCs, GRCs, and what nots for me. Sorry, girl. Don’t have leh. You try NTUC or not? Ya, also don’t have. Ayo… sorry lah.

Dejected, I leave the CC and walk about, stopping at any household n convenience store I pass. I walk till I reach “Afghanistan” and stop at a household supplies shop there. Aunty, got Singapore flag or not? The big one for balcony. You wait ah, I check.

She goes to the back of her shop that sells everything, from melamine kitchenware to fishing nets, PVC pipes to gas stoves. Aunty is gone for a really long time, and finally, she emerges from the chaos of hanging pots, pans n bubble-wrap with the Singapore flag! Ah, girl, si-kor-pwa.

So this $4.50 piece of red and white polyester follows me all the way back to the UAE, and on 8th August, is hung proudly in our hall. I didn’t dare hang it on the balcony ‘cos people here can be quite ignorant n mistake it for a communist banner.


So back to the National Day celebration here. Tickets were sold at only 42 Dirhams (Singaporeans will know why 42), which was really, really cheap ‘cos a KFC meal for two here already costs at least 45 Dirhams. The dresscode for this event was smart-casual but I was told quite a lot of people would come dressed to the nines, gowns, gloves n all.

The ballroom n foyer is already bustling with guests when we arrive at 6.15pm – very early by Singapore standards since the time stated was 6pm, meaning most people would arrive at around 7.30 - 8.00, especially if it was a Singaporean wedding dinner.


Ben, Jac n I stand by the side, feeling awkwardly out of place. Jac comments that everyone here is “so old” and this looks like a function that her dad would attend. So like typical Singaporeans, we stand there commenting on what people are wearing, saying, doing, and I’m pretty sure some of them were doing the same too.

We probably stick out like sore thumbs as a man named Adrian approaches us to break the ice. He informs us that they are expecting at least 500 pax this evening. We can tell he’s with the organising committee from the huge orchid pinned on his lapel.

Only an exclusive few in the crowd don the national flower, including a lady who looks like she could be a descendant of Miss Joaquim herself, in her shiny lilac kebaya.

With Asia Pacific Breweries being one of the sponsors, uncles feel right at home with the free-flow of Tiger beer. Only thing missing is ice cubes, the Tiger aunty or ah huay, and live screening of a match.

Soon, guests are ushered into the ballroom to await the arrival of the Consular-General, Mr Dileep Nair. Adrian, also emcee for the night, leads us in a few cheers. Yup, the crowd is asked to shout “Hallo, Singapore!” and “Happy Birthday, Singapore”. One uncle seems to have had one Tiger too many as he bellows, “Hallo, Sing-GABURRRP-pore!”


Just when I feel my goosebumps are gonna burst out from my skin, we are invited to sing Happy Birthday to Singapore as a huge cake resembling the flag is wheeled out. We also recite the Singapore pledge and sing the national anthem. I’m tempted to shout “Malaysia Boleh!!” at the end of the Majulah Singapura, just to see if I’d get thrown out :p


Finally, it’s time to eat! We’re hoping to get good ol’ Singapore food, but the only thing resembling dishes from home are the names of some of the dishes – rendang, gado-gado, goreng pisang, Hainanese chicken rice, assam fish… But all cannot make it lah. Ben and Jac join the extremely long queue of suckers for the chicken rice, only to find that it’s plain white rice with chicken that looks like it’s been boiled.


I meet Mabel n Chi Lin, and we’re introduced to a few of their friends. We also meet Eng Wan, who moved to Dubai just last month, and chat with him for a while.

The highlight for the night, for Ben, is the 2007 NDP screening. Unfortunately, they only screen the first 15 minutes as the screens are used to display winning lucky draw numbers the rest of the night. Jac hopes to win the Creative mp3 player while Ben n I eye the LCD flatscreen TV.

Unfortunately, we leave only with small goodie bags. One has a Tiger beermug, and the other bag doesn’t but has a soft-toy of a red crab, the Singapore Chilli Crab. And the other “goodies” are brochures, an SIA paperbag n cheapo-made-in-China keychain n calculator.

Of course, it’s typically Singaporean to complain that this n that cannot make it lah, blah blah. As much as we poke fun at events like these or the people who attend them, I always say I’m almost-Singaporean because of how much I’ve assimilated into the culture n lifestyle there. I remember how I got all teary-eyed when I watched my first NDP on TV. The crowd, a sea of red n white, waving their little red n white flags about, and singing proudly in unison as the big red n white flies past overhead.

I know some people say the NDP is the biggest PR event in Singapore, propaganda at its finest. I say, who cares, it works. The sense of unity, pride and passion, expressed through the reaction of the spectators is brilliant. And I still get a little teary-eyed now when I watch the NDP flypast n fireworks each year.

So yesterday Ben n I had to settle for watching the 2007 NDP webcast on a tiny 480x360 pixel window online. Although lacking authentic Singapore food and the full screening of the NDP, the NDC @ UAE event was still enjoyable. Ben n I got to see the macam-macam of the Singaporean community in Dubai - a couple of bengs and lians here n there, typical aunties and uncles, SPG also got!

And of course, those who believe their sense of fashion isn’t just restricted to Orchard Road.


Happy Belated National Day to all Singaporeans, and Happy Merdeka to the rest!