The Five Brothers

Who bears the most resemblence?
	明道
	孙协志
	王建复
	蔡一杰

明道 on his first job after NS(2005).


孙协志 at his JC prom night (2002).


王建复 fooling around after 'A' levels (2002).


蔡一杰 celebrating Xmas while still with the army (2004).

From new people, I often received unwelcoming comments that I have a market-name. Over the years, I have taken in exclaiming comments indicating that I have a market-face.

Faded

Taken 11 Aug 2004 - before I got prepared to meet the peeps for my birthday celebration, I sat down and requested for a shot with him. He didn't and never knew it was my birthday. After activating the timer, I sat beside him, bearing in mind that this might well be the last, and one and only shot I have with him.

12 Nov 2005, dad woke me up at day break. As part of me still lingers in the other dimension - the wonderland- the air, the shine, the temperature, and the chirps, early morning never failed to greet me from the dimension of reality. However, despite the good start such mornings should render, something is really wrong.

Firstly, ever since working with the shop, beautiful morning is not a privilege anymore. The time is cruelly dedicated to the other dimension. Secondly, dad never wake me up. Everytime dad steps into my bedroom to talk, it would be matters so solemn and urgent that could wake me up better than soaking my face in ice cold water. Dad woke me up to the dimension of reality.

He broke the news, one supposedly to be heart-breaking and could bring one to a state of lost. Upon hearing it, a sense of peace rode along the morning breeze through me. As I inhaled the peace, dad said, "get prepared. We should be setting off for Malaysia by afternoon." We are going back to the hometown of grandpa in Malaysia, Pontian, Jelotong.

*****

The same morning, I decided that I should report to work for half a day. While the seemingly abrupt news had appeared expected to me, this coming half day with the shop puts an abrupt end to my assignment to West Mall. Like a new soldier who settled in, and got so gelled to his platoon, I was being pulled out to attach to other units on the frontline. So foreign, so alien. I was brought to the vanguard of the company - the Paragon.

*****

By evening, on board a black jeep coated with a sandy brown, I slept my way through the 3 hour journey beside the driver, blood-related instead of psychologically attached.

Slapping myself to the dimension of reality once again, ungreeted by the presentees, however by the two servants standing still by the bright house that shelters the frame of the man who once was the guardian to my upgrowing 10 years back. Beckoned by dad, I bypassed the flushed maid to the casket.

Though in deep sleep, the man looked much heartier than he was one month back, while struggling for every breath, lying on the sofa back at Woodlands Ring Road. Donned in the smartest coat I ever witnessed on him, he seemed at ease. Despite being housed underneath the thick glass panel, just one foot above the tip of his nose, that granted the least of air, it had magically eased him of the hardships in fighting for a next breath in the most spacious openess supplying an abundance fresh air.

His two golden-plated front teeth still sparkles in my mind.

It was almost a 6 good years ever since I last inhale the freshness that arose from the kampong soil. Even this time round, the air of burning incense saturated every corner of the open space, as if to remind me always that I am here on a solemn affair.


The durian plantation left behind from two generations back.


Not much help to prevent the invaders for every meal.

All but one building across the street, every other inch of soil and every piece of wood that constructed the shelter appeared to be unchanged as of 6 years back. Yellow was the theme of the village. Not one that would highlight the spirit of liveliness or joyful mood, the yellow reminds of wearing off, stained, and the antique. Across the street, the little coffee house, half the size of a stall, depicts the strongest definition of the yellow. The ceiling fan was freed of dust, apparently the shop was well maintained. But yet, the fan was yellow, leaving traces that it used to be white. The Suzuki scooter that drove in from the road left the same clue to the fading white. Even the boarish rider displayed evidence of yellow eyes and teeth, as he conversed in the native language - Teochew. This trip seemingly brought me back to the time when I wore 25" pants to frequent this village about yearly to receive ang pows in ringgits.


Bathroom

Four long days of kneelings, chants, prayers under the man-made shelter drew the curtain of a man who probably had time to ponder on the past 73 years. Staging Teochew-styled re-enactment of the Naihe bridge crossing, the modern monk sang an end to the 4-day ritual, before cremation.

I took a while to picture his last view, before the world turned black on him eternally. He probably saw the ceiling fan spinning aloft.

Stagnant . Peace . Indulge

Santiago Munez's father says to him, "there are two type of people in this world. There are the rich, and then there are the people who lawn and weed their gardens, like us."

It has been 3 years since I first felt the engraved impact of how wealth make a difference in almost everything. Throughout the years I have only but to sit back and look at the big picture and realise things haven't really changed for the better. Instead, it appeared more like getting used to it. I just happen to repeat the same issue time and again, like now.

*****

For months the 3 tenants had smoked and stinked the house. Lately, it was overwhelmed by an urine odour, not because of its stench, but the helpless anticipation that it carried along with. Anticipation of death. It is my first time to witness how a gradual dying seem like. We know every slightest thing is tough for him, even the air fights against his respiration. He gasped for air and coughs in his sleep. I have learnt how to differentiate when he is calling for me and when he is calling for the air. I did not feel much about it. It's just another dying process, like what I would say to my pals who went through the lost. I made it sounded easy for them, and it is easy for me now. I just do whatever I can help to what he wants. To me, death is the best way out.

Today, amid the "hi can I help you" job, I received 5 miss call from dad, and a SMS - pls cal me. I got distracted from work and predicted that peace have finally taken over his toment. Momentarily I felt lost and got mentally prepared as I called dad.

He told me he needed my IC number for some adminstrative issue.

*****

Yesterday was an off day. Including this particular afternoon, I spent 3 days finishing 50 episodes of Naruto. It was evening as I sat against the wall. A serious mood swing striked, which had probably evolved from the anti-social lifestyle, persistent financial issues, the reluctance to stay at home to face my loneliness and my frail grandfather, and the reluctance to leave him alone at home.

I chose to meet Robert. I planned to get a gift for May in town. On the train, I realised that my mood swing appeared contagious, I told Robert "I have lost my soul...", and advised him to go home as I proceeded on to town but only to realise the gift was already prepared by Kase. I stood amidst the neon lit street looking at passer-by. Fortunately I found Lam and Kase for company. I treated myself a rare indulgence with Ding Tai Feng dumplings, Kinder chocolates, Spinelli Brownies, Next Menthol Lights, Layers Chips, and movie "Goal" at Cineleisure. Though little, but bits and pieces of puny indulgence does wonders to heal the shattered soul. Also thanks to Lam and Kase, their company certainly drew a comfy end to my day.

No life, Live it

I probably have to give Jason, May, Jingsi and Carol's birthday party a miss. For Messina Greats, it is as good as hanging up my boots already. My regular KTV sessions ceased when I have to turn kakis down. All this for the new environment that I was fortunate enough to set my foot in, for the recruitment had stopped at the time I applied for the post.

1 life, live it. The motto does not represent the stand of the frontline sales staff.

I have been with the shop for 11 days. The handphone-technology dummy have to bear with the indigestion from the required product knowledge and all. Back at the interview, I emphasised my strength of being adaptive. Now I realise that it isn't mere words that can get me adjusted. The timing simply suck.

From attending parties, blasting KTVs, tugging at the soccer pitch, dinners and suppers with my 2 usual gangs, I found a drastic change to my past time. Since there is no companion during my free time, I found friendship in Naruto. Bro's dusty massive collection of animae could at least accompany me for the next few months. And I finally get to load my game of Final Fantasy X, last played in 2004. At the end of it all, the emptiness only seem to magnify.

On the bright side, this job offered a glimpse of hope for enrolment on the next SIM intake. The way to sustain throughout days in SIM (should it happen), would be to working 5 days a week with the shop, and 2 days full day in school.

Then I pounder on the irony. Intending to live a life, I have to sacrifice life only to make a living. For now there seems no clear definition to the line.

Shopper

How does it feel like to do intensive shopping?

5 Star Domitory

It is 7.30am in the soothing morning. With only time for a quick brush of teeth and wetting the hair, I stopped two steps after getting off my bed. The shower is on its full blast. Damned, I thought I could only go back to bed and nap for another 5 minutes before Tenant C comes out.

It is 9pm into the lazing night. The weary hands can't even seem to feel the turn in the keyhole. From the door, I can sense the radiation emitting from the TV. It's "Devil May Cry 3"... But I don't bother to even turn to glance at Tenant A and my PS2, as I stump up the stairs to my room. Echoed down the stairways is a foreign language that yet sounds so accustomed to me. Tenant B is on the phone outside my room, speaking in his hometown dialects that breezed past the smuggled-in cigarettes sticking in the mouth. The shower is still on its full blast. I could'nt find Tenant C anywhere else in the domitary.

It is a fine Sunday afternoon. Dad wanted to hang his clothes but realised that there was no space for him. He yelled at bro about not clearing the spaces. Bro found that he had none of his clothes hung, when most of the shirts left hanging are made in China.

It is a Sunday night. It had been a long while since dad cooked. He stepped into the kitchen. The 3 tenants have 2 of their 3 meals served from the kitchen every single day. The floor tiles are probably as oily as the unwashed pot in the sink. The filter in the sink are grossly choked with pieces of instant noodles and cabbages. Dad changed his mind about a home cooked meal.

*****

Evolution, or rather, revolution?

The 5 room unit apartment is now a 5 star workers' domitory, that accomodates 6 workers - 3 Singaporeans, and 3 China men. The nationality difference seems strictly imposed in this community. Ever since the third tenant moved in, I never attempt to initiate a conversation, or even to look at them. At times when we walk out of the flat together, board the same lift, walk the same path to the MRT station, we are total strangers to each other. I miss the days when I can have my dinner at the living room, watching TV with the fan on at full blast.

Anyway the Singaporeans agreed that its time to make the domitory solely a Singapore property really soon.

Ah-Boy

Almost unconsiously, half a year past by, and I am still the temporary staff in M1, Channel Sales department. All of them know me as 'ah-boy', most not knowing my name even after half a year working in the same office cell.

My job scope is to key in M-card application forms. Anyone who is able to type can take up this simple job. Only days into the job I felt like quitting. The forms comes in thousands at a time, and it kept topping up forever. Resentment was magnified when I can't seem to find anyone who can even have a meal with me for lunch every single day. I almost never communicated with anyone whenever during office hours. I felt like a talent doing a thrash work the moment I start work at the keyboard. A totally dispensable role. I loathed the way I'm being called :"Ah-boy~".

Nonetheless, I kept up with my work etiquettes that I held with pride and honour. Fed up with the narrow job scope, I offered to help and volunteered for errands. I rushed to clear outstanding forms in order to be able to do something else. Unknowingly, I became the storeman who knows what products and where they are found; I got my license in using the trolley efficiently, etc. Through such acts, and with aid from smoking breaks too, I built up a bond with the majority of the department. Lunch was never alone again. Knowing my financial plight, and my unsucessful attempt to further studies, collegues had helped me in my job hunt, and I often get treats from them. It took about a couple of months before I enjoyed being called "ah-boy", albeit, I still feel undermined.

Team-building activities were held once in a every few months. But it was never the same again with ah-boy in the department. KTV with M1 is unlike any other sessions I sang. Among the 20 odd strength, no one is listening to me and my silvery melodic love songs. They are playing games and dunking Tiger and Chivas, otherwise known as Submarines. Only once in a while, some cute 28 year old lady turned around and exclaimed, "ah-boy~~! you can sing very well leh!"

After warming themselves up with alcohol, it's my turn to get high. I held the mike with gusto as I jumped on the sofa and hailed everyone on to get undressed... 上衣脱掉 脱掉 上衣脱掉.. The big bellys, the big boobs, the lao-chios, everyone is up on their foot, get tranquilised to start dancing the night away to my rhythm, to my beat, to my hip, to my sensation. It feels like holding a concert aloft a dancefloor. Ladies jumped up to the sofa and shake booties with me. An ultimate de-stress to get to this high. Everyone cheers and hail ah-boy. I was soon nicknamed "M1 Superstar". Ah-boy feels like a king.

*****

Today, M1 organises a sports carnival, as a fresh way to bond-building. M1 shops from island-wide came to Yio Chu Kang stadium today to form 4 houses of energetic young adults. My department, as the headquater of M1 shops, consisted a majority of unmotivated aunties and pot-bellied uncles.

I almost did not want to turn up for I was not nominated to participate in any event. I came, bearing a little hope that I might get to show off my forte. It was before long that one balding uncle approached me, in a sigh of relieve, to take up the 800m event. I grinned with a trace of cheeky confidence in agreement.

Before the third event of the day commence, I scanned my opponents at the starting line. The skimpy blue team spoke to the red team, "eh brother, ban chan leh. Wa bei zhao eh leh..." Only the yellow team runner stretches his defined calf muscles, emitting composure. His spiky bright yellow hair complemented perfectly to his tanned and well-built bod, oozing a charm that even caught my attention. The balding uncle had told me to watched out for him in the race.

The horn went off, and I hit off with my usual tactic of speeding at the start and at the end. I extended a gaping lead 200m into the race. A glance behind only to see the yellow team almost 50m away tells me that I can finish the remaining course in an easy pace.

I returned to the orange team, receiving cheers and applause from the aunties and uncles that goes, "ah-boy~ ah-boy~!!" I was immediately registered to take part in the remaining 2 running events, 100m and 4x 100m relay. I champed the 100m and overtook the red team to finish 2nd for the relay. It was flattering to be in the limelight for the first time in a sports event, though my opponents were deskbound personnels. A deceiving sense of victory hazed the history during school and army times when I struggled to earn a medal. I did not even pass the time-trial for the OCS AHM team.

However, the takeaway of the day was neither the medals nor the applause. The limelight had made my presence known to the higher managements. They were curious to know who the hell this young man is. Coupled with my performance at work that have probably earned my boss's aknowledgement, he recommended me to the General Manager of the M1 shops to work as retail executive.

When I affirmed that a data-entry temp staff has no prospect to any position, my non-complacency had unexpectedly paid off.

*****

For the past months, it was discouraging in terms of my job hunt. I experienced my first failure in an interview, with Starhub. The interviewer was a stern yet classy and shrewd but old lady. Despite the failure, I learnt a lot from this tough interview which got my heart pounding rapidly in tension throughout.

Given my current income, I struggled to save even a hundred for each month. My expenditure remains high despite my attempts to cut down. I was dismay for having to pay the salary for my dad's labourer. He needs to give his labourer his salary desperately before he have a hard time finding a replacement if this one decided not to work. With surprise incidents similar to this popping up frequently, saving up is an uphill task. Though I told myself that I must study on the next opening intake, deep in my heart I am unsure of my promise to myself. I simply cannot shrug off the burdens that digested the majority of my income. Demoralised, discouraged, and vexing at times.

I know I need to lift myself out of the comfort zone. I started opening myself up to manpower-thirsty business concepts like insurance and multi-level marketing (MLM) who claim to be a money-rolling career. I detested MLM concepts to the core (cos they are all cheaters), but this time I put aside my perception to open up my ears to hear what MLM can offer me. I am considering taking up financial planning and MLM as sidelines to my full-time job, in hope that they could eventually rolled into a passive income.

It does get upsetting at times when I hear my pals discussing about school work, or even whining about the workload from school. There is a financial situation that I have to resolve, but yet I am compelled to progress slower than people around me because of the fact that I am financially tied up. It is a cruel yet unsung fact that unfairness rules the society.

I am not in a desperate stage where I cannot treat myself to entertainments, but I am desperate to free myself of burdens so that I am allowed to soar. I do not regard these as burdens until recently. I used to perceive the issues as part and parcel of life. I am sure I am worth more than what a million others out there are worth.

An Eye for Miji Meow

I have never look at an eye in such great detail.

It is an honour for me to receive such a request from Miji Meow, a travelling drumming blogger from Hong Kong whom I admired. Here, a female's right eye drawn from pencil with reference from a picture. Perhaps a little token to congratulate Miji Meow on her engagement.

Quick penned sketch of a distraught man's right eye.

Halved

An struggling attempt, other than coffee and ciggies, to keep myself awake in the office.

I started with the eyes, pretty much to convey the weariness at that very moment. By the time the face was done, I have brought my out of the dreamy wonderland, into my current world of unsettled callings.

Where am I now? I see everyone else progressing. Meaningless job scope in the office stirred up the fustration of a talent, undermined. The job hunt is still on. I prostrated to the fact that studies is delayed. I have been uptight about the discouraging turnout of events. Dad is turning 50, and committed hard labours of more than 12 hours each day. It pains to see the weary in him. The retire mindset should, by right, be setting in at this time. Instead, he is not paid of a 3K wage by a former employee, who replied in an SMS: "I no money to pay you. Do me a favour, my kids are hungry. Need to feed them."

Fuck him and his kids.

Drawing down the neck, the chest and biceps are toned. Since a longed revisit to the gym last week, I constantly reminded myself not to bathe straight after I reached home. A daily weights training regime awaits my return. Definition in the body acted as the potential strength to brave through the uncertainties.

Or perhaps otherwise, a pretty desperate attempt to replace over wealth with a well-built body. I am convinced that a man without penny have no right over another lady for he will have little or no ability to bring her happiness in the long run. Even flings can be expensive. I do not refer woman to be materialistic or practical. A capable yet plain-looking man emits a charisma and confidence stronger than a brainless hunk. It is thus justified for a woman to measure man by his penny rather than his penis.

To portray a man still fiddling around in an unsettled state of mind, I halved him. Incomplete. He has a rough idea of what he wants and what he wants to achieve, but uncertainties ahead blurred the vision. Only half of him is visible. Bounded by various considerations, he dare not show his hand to what he have interest in. He walks the financially paved route, leaving interests as hobbies.

Reaching the lower body, I left him undressed. In his sub-conscious state of mind, there hides nothing. He demands the naked truth and condemns the lies.

I finished the censored piece of sketch to see the halved man in deep thoughts. A simple sketch that, yet, contains distorted emotions which some may sound nonsensical or unlogical.

I carried on to pen a halved female version mirroring the man. But the breast had gone terribly out of shape and proportion. So I folded the woman away. This can only mean I have never seen a real naked woman's body to gauge the proportions of the female's anatomy.

Any posers for me?

Tyrant

7 of us were in Jason's Toyota. 3 ladies cramped to one side, and 2 gentlemen, one on top of the other's lap were at the back seats allocated for three. Sitting atop Daniar's numbed thighs, my left side of my face sticked to the ceiling of the roof. And as we reminisced on, we arrived at Punggol. The buoyant mood was taken over by an air of solemness soon after we relieve ourselves off the human sandwiching. Above the brightly lit pavillion, we were greeted by a majestic red banner hung high in the sky between two apartment blocks, and enhanced with countless mini light bulbs, it beamed with patriotism - "Happy 40th Birthday Singapore"... ... ...

**** **** ****

It was recess time and rowdy boys had already packed the queue at the Muslim stall. But it never bothered the tyrant. He casually made his way to the front of the queue for his Nasi Lemak. Unsatisfied with a plate, next up was a daily dosage of drumstick from the Chinese vegie rice stall. He terrorised Mayflower Secondary School - teacher and students - with a boarish reputation. But we all like him for the way he is.

I got to know him when I joined the (back then) prestigious basketball club. From among the 13 year old kids, he effortlessly outshone most of the rest with his infamous left handed lay-up and the baseline shots. Naturally he became our power forward of the 'C' division MFSS basketball school team. I used to detest the way he abused his boarish size and strength in the games while I was a malnourished shortie. Although we did not even make it out of the Zone to the Nationals, I recognised his flair.

He probably enjoyed disturbing girls with dirty jokes, and he exercised bullying as part of schooling routines. His ill temper easily provoked brawls, especially with good friends. The more infamous one was probably his fight with Qinlong in the midst of a soccer game. It later became a classic joke: everyone grabbed on to the fiery him, while Qinlong was free to advance. The tyrant suffered quite some scratches.

Once he had a food fight with his buddy Guoan over the dining table. It triggered off with a dispute over a chicken wing (if I don't recall wrongly), before soon nuggets and rice flew across and back between them.

He knew exactly the means to get his hands on the things he wanted (less women). We were happily sipping away the bak kut teh, when he felt the urge to gulp it all down his throat. Another classic act of his: ka~~pui... The extra ingredient in the soup make the bowl his property, as we watched in disgust.

Also a symbol of vice, he was smoking while we were chatting at the void deck. Accompanying the puff were endless spitting on the floor. As one gained from the seeds one sows, he slipped and fell over the puddle he spitted.

4 years flew in a glance, but we made it a point to be back every Saturday for soccer. The tyrant, whose forte was basketball, chose to follow the trend with us for soccer. It was clear that his left leg ain't half as good as his left hand. Nevertheless, he was one of us. One day he came back, decorated. God of death in its hooded robe, maliciously holding a spear with curved blade at its tip. A full moon (that looked like egg yolk, as Melvin described) set above it. A devil armed with distinct fangs guarded his arm. He is also infamous for his talented ability as a "dua kang". A trademark of vice, indeed. That's the man we know him as.

Ever since the school campus was teared down one year ago, our team challenged the field instead of our usual court games. This evolution did not bring him along with us. We hardly met him since the school was teared down for reconstruction. He became a topic in times of reminiscence. The few times that we saw him were mostly coincidences on the streets. I last saw him a few months back at Ang Mo Kio S-11 while having supper. We engaged in a brief catch-up. He was serving in the Civil Defence. That was my last conversation with him.

**** **** ****

13 July 2005, I was awakened at 7am. As per daily routine, I was to snooze it every 10 minutes, for 45 minutes, until I realise that I would be late for work if I was to brush my teeth. This particular morning there were two SMS, both received at 3am. One was from Wujie, while the other was an unknown number. I read the unknown SMS. Instead of snoozing, I stared into the ceiling for the next 45 minutes. Baoyu saw the SMS at 3am. She went to wake her dad to talk. She could not sleep. Guizhong and Qinlong did not get back to sleep, as they would usually do, after reading the SMS. Kenneth called me while I am on my way to work. Jason had to reply to my SMS, in disbelief, to confirm that it was no plank. Guoan was still in South Africa.

**** **** ****

"Happy 40th Birthday Singapore", the banner swayed synchronised with the breeze. Underneath the red and bright banner, gathered a mob mostly attired in black or white tops. Majority of them are in their early twenties. The monks were chanting while the 7 of us stood outside the pavillion. It was a night of gathering, all for a mourning cause. Familiar faces - Rong Chuan, Melvin, Wenlai, to name a few - which I can never expect to see all came together. We went into the pavillion, to the table. As I offered my joss sticks, I looked deep into his eyes in the frame. It stood majestically aloft a stack of red chairs covered with his black t-shirt and pants. There laid a pack of opened Marlboro menthol. A lit stick was burning amongst the joss sticks in the pot. I shifted my glance to the brown pine crate behind. "There you are, my friend. 好久不见."

It was packed inside the shelter. So the largest gang moved outside to stand with the breeze. Different versions words and rumours of the mishap floated around. My first impression was that the accident resulted from his speeding, like the 180km/h that he used to boast. Some said he rode without license, while some stated that he was riding his friend's bike. Some said he was claimed instantly when he was knocked down by the lorry when he was trying to pick up his bike after he skidded. It was later reported that he had skidded on the road, and before he could pick himself up, he was ran over by the lorry.

It was rumoured that he was the sole bread winner of the family of four. Serving as a lance-coporal at Civil Defence in the day, he played a debt collector's role in the night. The devils painted on him probably made his job easier. With his sudden absence, the pillar role can only be taken over by his younger brother.

14 July 2005. He has been on my mind for the past two days whilst in the office. Images of him from the past kept emerging. They appeared to be so near as if it was yesterday, yet so far away. I began to wonder what it would be like if it was to be my last day of my life. What would I do? Where would I be? Who would I be with? I was reminded of Professor Morrie. I would want to appreciate everything around me. I would want to be with friends and kins, spending quality time with them, albeit, a day's time seemed too stingy to satisfy the greed. At that very moment, all the problems, such as the unsettled bank loan and other fustrating money issues that has been troubling me everyday appeared not to be a problem anymore. All these are unimportant issues which no longer matters on my last day. But, it only lasted for an instant. I was being pulled back to the reality where all the fustrations exist and problems do matter and affect the quality of life. It feels like I am taking a gamble against the high odds that I shall perish the very next day, should I cease to appreciate and choose to tackle the problems.

He never had the time to consider.

It was 2pm. His wake ended at 10am, earlier in morning. It was time he set off unto 黄泉. I took a cigarette and headed not to the smoking area, but to the deserted canal behind the office building. I took sentimental puffs aloft the patch of green clearing, facing the milky water. I stopped at half the stick, knelt down to poke the remaining cigarette into the ground. 一人一半,感情不散.

Farewell Stephan.

Sunday Morning

This is what happens in a typical sunday morning, after a night of mahjong or winning eleven, at Gan's room if anyone refuses to wake up.

Hot

I was first approached by a man when I was 16, while selling balloons during Christmas in year 2000.

I am not sure if it happens to alot of guys out there, but from time to time, I seem to be a pretty hot with species of the same gender.

Some abstracts from the Friendster.

********** Case 1

PowerShoesClub wrote:
good day sir, you're look so cool and smart in picture, please sir .... as a cool, smart, handsome, superior and powerful young guy, you need to have a low life shoe slave to serve your shoes, sneakers, boots and socks .... please sir i begging you give me a chance to be under the control of your powerful feet .... i can make you feel superior and powerful .... i lick your shoes very clean and i smell sniff dry your full sweaty socks .... you can use my face and my crotch as your foot rest and i massage your superior sweaty socked toes with my nose and my crotch .... please sir i begging you give me a chance to serve your superior feet and footwear .... just send me your email for add you in my club and let me know what kind and what colour of shoes you wear and also your shoe sizes .... thank you master sir

********** Case 2

Some guy wrote:
woo u r damn handsome and muscular..wads ur e-mail...? pls add me as fren

Guowei wrote:
i_am_not_interested@inman.com

********** Case 3

Some guy wrote:
Hey, u want singer kahki?? haha ....... anyway just came across your page, hahaha....have the same liking...... singing and playing mahjong..though i'm not really good in both of them....damm it ....

Guowei wrote:
ya want singing kaki. but the profile says preferably ladies. to include male is just to make it look more decent... singing and mahjong, think i'm good in both of them.

Some guy wrote:
so confident of yourself ah ?? ha ...... so what ?? do we mean that we can't be friends ???

Some guy wrote:
do u want me as a friend not ?? i'm serious about having u as a friend one le.......haha.....if u dun want then pls let mi know k ?? and do u have msn ?and what's your OA account name ???

********** Case 4

Some guy wrote:
Hi; I'm a 28yo/170/65 chi who enjoys water sports esp sea sports like diving and sailing. I'd like to get to know you so I hope you'd drop me a reply and we can chat further ok?

Guowei wrote:
i dun even know how to swim

Some guy wrote:
Hi, Thanx for yr reply but I think I should let you know that I'm bi so let me know if you do not wish to continue getting to know each other and I'd respect it okOtherwise, no worries abt the swimming thing... I can always teach you if you're interested? In the mean time, care to tell me more abt yrself like what do you do? Where do you stay? Aer you str8/bi/gay? What do you enjoy in yr spare time? etc...I hope to hear from you again soon and maybe meet up for a chat over drinks or something ok?

Some guy wrote:
Haven't heard from you since the last time... How're you? DO let me know if you do not to be disturbed and I'd respect it ok?Otherwise, I hope to hear from you again so drop me an email

Culture Grant

"Man never treasures his possession until he loses it."
So often I have heard of this lament that this proverb emerge in my zombie-infesting-state-of-mind all of a sudden while entering data in the dull office. A son loses his dad and realise that he had not been communicating with him much before. A man loses his wife only to wish that his spouse would nag at him more. A NS leaver regrets the days that he spent bumping around in his school days, where he used to enjoy the luxury to study in one.

They hope time would turn back once more.

"Taking things for granted."
This is what the majority might explain it with. But this ability is what man are born with - it's in the basic instinct. Initially, it sounds to me as unjust to take things for granted (TTFG). But the more I dwell into the thoughts, I begin to align myself to the TTFG culture. Since the present society and human nature is designed to be such, I would rather enjoy the process of TTFG at the time of incident than to reflect during post-incident with "why didn't I treasure the moments I had earlier? I should not have TTFG!!...."

How to we measure the term "treasure" or "cherish" then? When we always lament that we had not treasured the times until we lose it forever, how do we actually consider it being treasured? Eventually, it will still be gone forever. The pain for the lost will emerge without fail, regardless of whether the times are being cherished or not. It is redundant for such a lament.

I decided to justify "treasure and cherish" as being able to enjoy the process of TTFG, leaving no regrets, although granted things are hard to identify most of the time.. But what more can I expect from it? It is already a grant.

For the remedy to the pain, or rather the prevention, I borrow a phrase from Master Yoda: "learn to let go of the things you fear losing, you must."

Tenant VS Lieu-tenant

No more walking around in underwear anymore. No more changing clothes without closing the door. No more singing out loud in the shower. No more coming out of shower wrapped in towel. No more wearing shorts without underwear at home. No more peeing with toilet door open. No more doing push-ups or crunches in the middle of the living room.

Indirectly, my privacy had been invaded, by China.

It had been 3 days since the couple from China settled down in my house. And for the 3 days, I had only met the man twice, and the never seen the lady's face. Gone are the days where there are only men in the house. Although the house normally stinks and messes like, well, a man's house, I have gotten used to life without woman in the home. It is disturbing to see fallen long hair littering the bathroom tiles.

I did not even bother to show my face when dad first showed the couple round the house. The only incentive is the $350 per month for me to settle bills with, substantially reducing the contributions required of my income in months to come.

For 3 days, the couple had really acted like a fresh tenant. They shy away from us most of the time, only to retreat to the room after reaching home and bathing. They lead a life with no entertainment, no TV, no music, no socialising. Only the husband, the wife, and the room. God knows what kind of entertainment they can have in a room. It could be that they are trying to minimise the intrusion of our lifes, or it could be the other way round. Either way, it would mean a little change in lifestyle I could exercise in the house.

I believe 除此之外

30 April 2005
My audition timing was 12pm, but I had reached Mediacorp at 11am. The heat of the weather did nothing to subside the anxiousness. However, I know that I had begun to know of myself and my standards after the previous singing contest. I found a simple yet beautiful song that I can confidently project. Continuous repetition of the song "I Believe" in my head had made the waiting time short. When the reception opened at 12pm, I was, surprising, the first in the queue, before it lengthened to form a snake.

Soon, we were led to a waiting hall. We were told to wait after collecting our numbers. When nothing else occupied my mind, the anticipation only grows stronger and unstable. Every breath I took were deep ones to soothe the racing heartbeat. So were the ones beside me, I could hear and feel them well. The hundred over potential candidtates in the hall were mostly quiet. Soon in groups of 10, we were led to the corridor outside a room. I was the first in my my group. Entering the brightly lit room, I stood uncomfortably in front of the mic stand to intoduce myself to the 3 judges. The song went smoothly until the chorus when I stumbled on the lyrics, yet again. The judges, who seemed impressed initially, cut me after my error. That's it, I thought. The judges went on to comment about me, my outfit, everything but how I fared in the sing.

Judge: "you dress like ah-beng, and look like one."
me: (surprised and amused) "is it my goatie?"
Judge: "no. That's pretty fine. It's your hair. Get it straightened."
me: (surprised and amused, and smiled)
Judge: "no, don't smile. Your smile don't look nice. It's your teeth. Get it straighted when you have the time. You can go for the "cool" style, something like Louis Koo."
me: "I will for the teeth if I have the money." (smiled without showing teeth) "Thanks"
Judge: "now look at the light"

The green light lit.

I walked out of the room to be applauded by the other 9 untested fellows. Chen Wenchong came forward with a camera man for a brief interview. Afterwhich he advised, "shave it (goatie) off. I'm serious. Audiences wouldn't like it. Do you trust me? Shave it off."

2 out of the 10 in my group passed the first round. The other is a clean looking 26 year old chap who look and sound like Guan Liang. We had a short chat and eventually shared a cab out. We were the 600 out of the 4000.


7 May 2005
The 2nd round at IMM building. I only managed to steal a peek at of the stage after much squeezing amongst the crowd. Most contestants had fantanstic voices albeit, only to me or some audiences perhaps. The judges never hesitated to press the bell to cut it off most of the time, probably due to the cruel fact that they had been and have to audition some 300 guys for the whole bloody day. I was among the last batch to go in.

From the few that sucessfully made it into the third round, I drew observations that the judges paid great attention to the stage appeal and confidence, followed by the voice quality and the looks. Some really wonderful did not made it in, some managed to impress with looks that can kill, some tried to pull stunts like somersault and backflip (yes, he got in).


I chose to perform 除此之外. I had difficulty finding a right place to really practise it for the past week. I did not dare to project at home in fear of disturbing the neighbours. As a result, I only muttered and rewind the song non-stop in my mind whilst on the desk during office hours.

The judges pressed the bell the moment I reached the chorus. Unlike most contestants, there was no comments at all. A short "thank you" and I passed the mic before going down stage to meet host Jeff Wong with a smile. It was a fast yet long moment, and I was satisfied with myself. This puny and short experience point gained is surely a precious one. I shall carry on to source for places or events to perform.

Maybe I should have heeded Chen Wenchong's advice to shave it off. The other chap who passed the first round with me from the same group was one of the 20 odd contestants out of the 300 on that day. I am waiting to see him performing from the screen soon. Disregarding the fact that he still owed me the cab fare, I will vote for him.

If you don't show me the door, I'll dig my way through

I've met Mr Wu, the influential retiree in Ang Mo Kio, whom I heard might be able to give a hand by connection through his extended network. Although he can't help me personally, he told me to mention his name in the OCBC bank in Ang Mo Kio.

I've met Mr Albert Tan, the manager of the OCBC bank. He told me that his bank does not provide for SIM students. He suggested Maybank or DBS. DBS spoke the same of OCBC, and Maybank dished out unrealistic terms and condition in my point of view.

I've approached the Community Development Council, for I heard of an educational scheme. The information counter told me that that was for young married couples who are providing for their children's education.

I've approached the Resident Council, just in pure hope. The receptionist bluntly told me that there was no scheme to help me.

I've approached my uncle, who just found a job after 9 months of retrenchment. He would try to help. But I would suggest he help his son, who is going to graduate from Raffles Institution in a couple of years.

I've approached my mother, a retiree at the age of 46. She and her family had enough to support the home expenses, and their son to university in the far future. Does that entitle me a loan of 23K from them, then?

I've met Assoc Professor Chin Tet Yuen, MP from the Sembawang Town Council. After expessing his deepest sympathy in light of my situation, he advise that I work a couple of years more to stablise myself financially.

I've drafted a letter to MOE, which depicts a desperate attempt to convince them to fund me. Vicky told me that she had a friend who succeeded in accepting a grant from MOE.

This is no doubt a retribution of the complacency that saw me through my days in schools, from Primary to Junior College. I took education for granted in a knowledge-based society like Singapore. I never expect it to be this tough in an attempt to pursue studies. For those who went through this smoothly, you are blessed, and saved from the desperation plight. MOE shall perhaps be my last hopeful resort.

Man, I'm reaching my wit's end.

Jialong's 21st Birthday

30 April 2005. This is the most pleasant bithday celebration that I had attended, out of the many 21st birthday celebrations I've been to. All credited to the Peiyun, the mastermind behind every scene, it was a successful turnout and a successful surprise party for Jialong.

It almost looked like a wedding day, when the horde of friends and relatives hogged the corridor outside his unit. The mastermind had gathered everyone to ambush Jialong right at his home. While he was told to meet everyone in town later on, he was still slacking around at home, probably prepared to be late. After the trespassing, I saw everyone in the house filled with the victorious smile of a successful raid on their pal. It was, too, a joyous smile.

The party carried on at the BBQ pit beneath the block, where kids from the neighbourhood even joined in the fun. It seemed as if everyone present in the park commentated the occasion. The smoke rose from the pit, laughters broke almost non-stop from the horde, kids with their skipping ropes, the soccer fanatics and their ball, the birthday boy and his face of cream... Like May had descirbed, it is filled with love. A lovely day.

The little BBQ pit beneath the block is a cosy park that integrates people playing soccer and volleyball at the court, and children with their childhood games at the playground. With the right people, the right location, the right time, accomodated by the right weather, it's all for Jialong. He deserves this.

The Father, the Son and the Shark

On a warm and humid Friday night, three men sat in front of the coffee table. Even though three, the dinner was a pretty quiet one. As the three men, or rather, the three generations, consume the food that seem tasteless to them, they each was troubled.

The grandfather, who survive one near death experience, is now thin almost to the bone. He now live his days, even though leisurely, expecting his end nearing. Still, he tried hard sustaining the frail live hassling from hospitals to chinese physicians, from Kuala Lumpur to Singapore. Easily wearied, he rested his wrinkled body against the cushion, troubled over the unknown number of days left that he is granted to see the soothing light and breathe the purest air.

The son, a grown man now, had felt his weight gradually increasing, attributed by the responsibilities of sustaining the maintenence of the house and other necessities, now that his father had lost his ability to do so. He thought that this had come too soon, thus distrupting the assumed proper route that he should take. After some hopeful attempts to approach potential organisations for help, all was but in vain. He worried over the limitations of himself, and an unstable future path which goes against his initial ambitions. He do not like the idea that he will fall behind other people of his age.

The father is at a vunerable period of his life. For a 50 year old man like him, things are worst for him when both career and marriage had came to an abrupt end. His ego were being trampled upon when he realise that he could no longer provide for his family. Even when he discards many other debts, he met with emotional disputes that spurred the thoughts of suicide in the worst scenario. At this very moment, as he sat in the melancholy living room, he probably could not rest his head to the back of the couch, for his head is rounded up by bandages...

On the previous night, Thursday, the son finally found the chance to unleash all the fustration brought about by the boring job at the KTV. He was enjoying the company of a buddy and four other ladies. He proudly showed off his gifted ability with the microphone in front of the new people. Perhaps he enjoyed it when praises showers him. From 8pm, they did not want to leave the room until it was near 1am. It was the last proposed song when the son's handphone rang a familiar ringtone. Going outside the room to answer, he thought his father wanted to ask him if he was going home. However, the son could answered only to hear an unfamiliar voice from the other end.

"Are you ####'s son?"
"Yes"
"He was admitted to Tan Tock Seng Hospital. He had quite a serious head injury, and is bleeding quite badly."
"What had happened?"
"It should be a fall"
"Ok.. I'll come over right now."

The group had waited for the son to finish his last song, he came back to the room with a worried face to break to them the sudden news. The son left hastily, leaving the rest to settle the bills. The son went into the lift with another guy. The guy held the lift door open, awaiting his friends who dragged themselves like slugs toward the lift. The son expressed his urgency to the guy, who replied in an unconcerned manner. The son almost wanted to smash his head off the lift wall.

Upon alighting at the A&E, the son was just in time to see the father being pushed on a trolley bed. The father was wearing a light grey shirt, cruelly smeared, with blood of his own, across his chest, from collar downwards. Dried blood stained his chest through the unbuttoned. He had a bandage cast on his head, leaving little hair to pout out on top. His left eye was wide, for the tight bandage had pulled up the left side of the forehead. The son frantically rushed to him. The father remained in a daze, which however, seemed to be mixed with rage and anguish. His face was obviously still red from the liquor. The son greeted the father, pained to witness such tragedy. The father looked at his son in the eyes, as if dying to tell him something. He did not speak, not knowing unwilling or unable to. He merely passed his mobile phone to his son. The father was pushed away to the treatment ward.

A man in blue shirt then approached the son. He, too, smelt of liquor. Upon confirming that the son's identity, he introduced himself as the father's friend. They stood outside the building in the midnight breeze. The son eagerly wanted to know more from the man. The first thing he wanted to know was how had the father injured himself. The man described that the father had drank too much, who then fell after he suddenly lost his consciousness. Unconvinced, the son went on to clarify the exact details of how he fell. He replied that the father fell off his chair. The man went on to advise the young son about the dire and stressed situation the father was in. Of course, the son knows it better than anyone else. But what the son did not expect is that the father still could not get over the broken and betrayed marriage, and he lived everyday in misery, at times thinking that life isn't worth carrying on. The son shook his head in disappointment.

Finally, when only one person was allowed to visit the father, the son went in. The nurse allowed the poor son into the ward where the wounds were going to be stitched. The father lied under a rotating light similiar to those in a dental. In this room the father spoke his first words to the son. "Is my handphone with you? Call him. Call X, ask him how is he going to pay for this." Puzzled, the son leaned forward to question. The father was fury, yet unable to be loud, "how do you think I got this? You really thought I fell?" The son could guess that the father was referring to the man in blue. He got increasingly agitated as he speaks. Noticing the unstable condition of the patient, the nurse had to invite the son to leave the room.

The son sat impatiently outside the ward with a confused state of mind. The doctor came looking for him. "Your father can be discharged already. But he seemed to be an unstable state of mind. On the ambulance, he had been saying things like 'why don't you all let me die? Why save me? Let me die...' We had initially wanted to send him to the Institute of Mental Health instead... You must be able to take more caution taking care of him.." These words sent trembles down the son heart. Suicidal thoughts again. The most fucked up adn irresponsible statement one could ever make, he thought.

The son pushed the father out to the corridor on a wheelchair. He insisted on walking, and went straight up to the man in blue. The worried, yet outraged, but confused son followed on.

At their very first exchanged of glance, the father gave him a wide smile, showing all his teeth that glitters with an exhibition of ingenuity. "死不了... 烂命一条..." The father showed his arms around the man's shoulders and together, they walked out into the chilling night breeze, the son tagging behind. The son, who earlier had a good nice chat with the man, now sticks his face near the man's, a glare so stern that it never blinked, as it travelled so deep into the man's guilty eyes. It did not require the son to ask "did you hit my dad?" for the man to give a reply, "you can believe 50%, I know you will choose to believe your father, but I swear I did not beat him." In fact, the father could not remember a shit about what happened. He did not recall where exactly he fell, who was there or whatever. He only knew he woke up in a cell that is moving, and accompanied by paramedics.

It did not take long for the 'friendly gesture' to evolve hostile between the father and the man. Vulgars and middle fingers erupted in a seemingly peaceful night that should not tolerate such audacity in the first place! The son knew it's time to intervene, well knowing that a body contact would possibly sparkle off some violent scenario. The son dragged his father away as he called for the man to disappear out of their sights immediately.

That fucker is a money lender. The son's stepmother had borrowed a small sum of $1,500, with dad as the guarantor. The outstanding debt is $750. Unable to locate her, the fucker looked for the father. Then some incident occurred outside the country club before which the father found himself in the ambulance.

The father was at the limit of what rage can reach. He lost the battle to rationale - he did not even give a fight. The insistent father brought the hesitant son along to the stepmother's mother's home. The poor cab driver was chided violently by the infuriated father when he could not find the way. It was about 3am when the father and son stood outside the unit, talking to the stepmother's brother. The brother's main concern was, well, to keep reminding the father to keep his voice down in the silent night. But the father had been taken over by emotions. The son watched in silence. The weeping, hopeless, and angry one-sided conversation echoed mournfully down the corridor. Nothing could prove to work out, even by talking to the family. The father was unsure why he went there in the first place. He was confused, he did not know what to do. The son advise him to go back home, and then to the neighbourhood police post.

Walking past the seven-eleven and the MacDonald's, the midnight punks were chilling out beside their stunt bikes. Every mother's son turned to look at the bloody man walk pass.

Back at home, the father was startled to see himself in front of the mirror - his bloody self. Looking at himself in the mirror, he probably had recovered a majority of his rational sense, lost earlier. He told his son, "my anger had subsided." Torn down by the series of incidents, he dropped on his bed, unchanged out of his bloodied shirt. The son asked if they are going to the police. The father replied, "we'll see tommorrow. I'm tired..."

A week later, nothing had yet been done to seek justice. The father probably had let it rest, since the shark agreed to forget the $750 sum. He probably fear further complications if matters were brought up to legal level. Anyway, the father owe him another few thousands separately. The fuckers who survive by under table - fuck you.

If a sum of $750 could be resolved with 3 stitches behind the head, the son would not mind taking five smashed of bottles or on the wall, and stitching up some 15 stitches on the scalp to settle the father's debt with that fucker. One day I shall call him up to discuss.

5 minutes back at home

Beatened up after a much eye-straining in the office and distant travelling to an interview, I stepped into the house wearily. Grandpa came over to stay for a couple of days. We conversed as I lazily sat down to pull the socks off. Not before long, we reached the money issue. Grandpa had no money pull through for the coming days, and thinking that dad was broke, he asked me for some cash. Back in my room, bro starts talking about money. He need to borrow. The bills are still lying underneath the files - a deliberate attempt to hide them. Even when mum didn't call, I'm reminded daily of the debt.

Now that my hopes to study in SIM almost seem impossible, I began to consider alternatives. Retaking 'A' levels might seem a wise choice since I am already not going to school this coming year. I'll see how it goes this coming Friday at the meet-the-people session with the MP.

I used to envy people who brag about the wonderful things in life. Now I get jealous. Haha damned.

The first 5 minutes back at home, supposedly a cosy place to de-stress, was enough to dampen my mood for the rest of the night.

人情

人情 - a form of debt unmeasured monetarily, but by the efforts and actions (out of kindness or pity) of a person (creditor) for the sake of the debtor, which normally results in enormous returns of gratitude. The level of gratitude by the debtor will not be proportional to the amount of effort by the creditor. In fact it will be a increasing exponential curve.

人情, a loan that one would need desperately in times of despair. To receive the loan would be similiar to a situation when one receives water from another person, after struggling to survive for days in a scorching desert. Ironically, sometimes I would hoped that this much appreciated needy helping hand do not appear at all. I felt shit knowing that there is nothing I could do to repay the debt, when what lies ahead in my life journey is still a massive fog. There is only an outstanding debt of indefinite gratitude that engulfs over me forever.

3 years back, in JC2, I can vividly remember Kiat passing me a stack wrapped in a piece of white paper. It was over a hundred dollars in cash, pooled in by a group of friends. It's a regret that I do not recall all the members involved, but the act was touched me deeply. They saw that I only brought less than a dollar to school each day, barely enough for a proper snack. Looking back, I feel ashamed. These are money I should not accept, for my friends are mostly as broke as myself. I developed a philosophy which states that a man, given his natural in-born ability to hunt for his own food, will never allow himself to be starved, moreover in a modernised society. I can find my own food without taking from any other people. 人情, I owe them a deeply appreciated one.

My beloved teacher from NYJC had listened to all my problems. Unable to pay for A-level exam fees that very year, she had applied financial aid for me, and the school eventually paid my exam fees.

I have never mentioned it openly before, but I'm sincerely deeply grately for their help. Gan and his family had been concerned about my situations, in fact, more than anyone else. Gan's dad had, through his network, introduced me OCBC bank (Ang Mo Kio branch) manager to discuss and negotiate my study loans. Gan's mum was so worried that besides finding me councils that might be able to provide study aids, she actually volunteered to be my guarantor using her CPF. She is a housewife and a babysitter.

Mum's husband is a wise man when it comes to dealing with money. He had saved enough to last him and his family of 3, and support the son til University studies. The son is 11 this year, and the parents have retired. I do not like to ask for money which comes from their retirement savings, but he finally did agree to lend me the 1.4K to pass the tide.

A month back, Eugene and Enping gave me an EZlink card as an much unexpected ORD gift. While I was prepared to keep it as a souvenir from them, one day I had no cash at all to support my transportation. Reluctantly, I had to resort to tap the new card to report to work. The card worths a total of $67.

Just last week, Daniel intended on passing me some cash of over a hundred, which I was insistent of not accepting.

I deeply appreciated the gestures and all.

At the same time, I feel pathethic.

Cataclysm

I was awakened by the my handphone ringing this morning. The time was 9.12am. It was Ailing from Citibank, "did you got to the law firm?" In a daze, I replied, "I did not go, and I'm not going already..." I dropped back to my bed. An hour later, I was, again, awakened by the knocking of the door. "The bidders are here," I thought to myself as my heart raced.

Last night was a night of emotional upheaval, ever since the traumatic family feud some years back.

I called up the bank, Ailing, and Immigration & Checkpoints Authority (ICA) to get more infomation on how I can handle this case. Due to the fact that the properties in my house were purchased as common product with dad, they have legal rights to charge these stuffs to my stepmother. Ailing adviced me that the only solution to prevent the auction was to pay 3 times the sum of the properties' value to settle everything. I have to come out with $3000 before 9am next morning, when I barely had enough for dinner later on. After my work, I went to meet up with Gan while on his job. I needed company.

Even though 3K is not a big sum, we did not have the ability to produce it in such a short time. Dad began calling all his (broke) pals, and I attempted to look for mum. It was hard for me to ask her for money. She hated dad to the extent that she prayed him to be dead. To lend me the money is as good as helping dad. She rejected my initial approach. I sensed her reluctance, and I did not persist. Believe me, it feels fucking cheap and terrible to beg for money.

I knew that mum was the last person whom I am able to ask money from. I thought all hope was gone after her rejection. I called dad up to inform him. "Forget it. Nevermind it already, let them take it..." he said, which matched what I was thinking. We should not keep the properties we could not afford. I feel unjust by the fact that they are paying a thousand to confiscate properties that worth over ten thousands. I knew dad did not want to let those properties go. I received calls from bro, I sensed his helpless. He laughed hopelessly. Forlorned and fucked up. I loathed myself for being unable to do anything to rescue the house of its belongings. I felt like a good-for nothing useless ass. I can't even save my family from such a minor incident.

I was with Gan and his dad at the coffeeshop. I struggled so much to hold back the tears from the watery eyes, alas I gave up fighting the tears. I made my way to the washroom, and felt like bashing up every fuck shit person and obstacle that stood in my way. I broke down beside the urinal. I was just useless. Gan came in to give me a pat on my shoulders, as if a de-javu of a similar situation in school almost 3 years back.

I hated myself to act this way, for I perceive myself a strong personality. Now do I realise how little can I withstand.

After calming down back at the table, bro called. He sounded urgent. It seemed that dad had sourced for a guy who was willing to lend him the cash, with interest. Loanshark, it immediately striked me. This is not the first time. I thought he agreed to let the property go. How could he have been so desperate! Bro said that he had to use his IC to borrow the money. He had tried calling mum to ask for money, but also to no avail. I called dad to warn him. He told me everything's gonna be fine, and hung me up. I was brought to a frantical situation. I ordered bro never to sign any document, and to make sure dad don't. At that very moment the loan guy had already set his foot on our tiles. I rushed off home immediately, leaving my unfinished dinner with Gan and his dad.

On the MRT platform, mum called. She gave in for the sake of bro and me, and agreed to lend the $3K. I was utterly beatened up by that time. I made my way out of the MRT station, and to her house. I almost could not find my way there as I went into a state of daze. I felt useless.

On the lift up mum's house, I was with a middle-aged lady. I had a sudden mad urge to shine my jack knife on her neck to rob her. I thought it would be easy to rob from the nearby 7-11, or the cashier of the drink store. I was in the absolute wrong state of mind, everything thought ran wild. Before the lift door close, someone pressed it open again. In came another 2 person.

At mum's house, she repeated herself of how much she wanted dad to die. She wished that he jump off the window, only then she would not hesitate to aid us. I remained silent and waited for the money.

I finally headed home as it reached midnight. I was mentally exhausted by that time. But dad and I still have to plan for the auction next morning. We had 3 plans:

1. Bring $3K to the law firm to settle every fuck thing.
2. Negotiate and buy back everything from the highest bidder at a higher price.
3. Let them take everything, and we replenish with the 3K in hand.

We eventually decided on plan 2. And so I went to bed immediately, too tired to even wash up.

This very morning, I answered the door. I was surprised to see only a man in his forties. With his hair all combed up, he seemed like a decent businessman. He tried to appear angelic, "I'm here to help you." He suggested that we'll put up a show later, with his man to sucessfully bid the property, and sell it back to us. His sweet words does sound nice and touching, but it all came from his lion mouth. Apart from what he called "registration fee" of $300, he will charge an additional of $300 on top of the final bid. I left it to dad to discuss with him. The final decision: everyone will leave the house, and I alone would have to put up a show at the auction.

I had to show it to the bidders that I'm not interested in keeping the property anymore. I need to appear annoyed and try to push for the auction to end fast. All these would result in the bidding to be lesser, hopefully. I emptied the fridge to give them the idea that I was prepared to send it away, and not interested in negotiating to buy it back. And so I was left by myself in the house to anticipate their arrival. After a good night's rest, I was in a clear state of mind. I was calmer, but at the same time surprise to recall how pathetic I was the night before. It was disgusting.

The mob arrived very soon. A swarm of potential 'money-grabbers' packed the corridor rather unsightly. The auctioner came in to account for the property, before he called for the mob to come in and commence the auction. I stood high before all of them, then spoke in a commanding yet irritated tone, "eh, you want to auction, make it fast. I am rushing for time. Faster settle everything, take, and go." The auctioner assured me 5 minutes would be sufficient.

I went up to my room to hear the bid commence. He started it with $900. No noise from the mob. He then decreased it to $600, only then the mob started making noises. Every bid is $50, and every bid raised my blood pressure. My ears were running hot. In between I heard some quarrel from the mob. There seemed to be disputes over the bidding. In the end, the deal closed at $950. Everyone else then left, after 'dirtying' my home. The bidder was one of the 'actor'. As agreed earlier on, we proceeded to the transferring of the property to my name. Dad came back and they negotiated further, only to finalise the deal at $1,400. With that, the ordeal closed its curtain.

Perhaps a blessing in disguise, I estimate that I would only take the next 3 months to repay mum $1.4K instead of $3K. My plans to save for studies have to halt for now. I had managed to secure $1.7K for April after weeks of working, but it is demoralising to see it gone to repay debts before I can pocket it. I am tired of this thing. I am sick of money.

Dilemma: Realism VS Desire

Every once in a while, Eugene, my buddy from my previous unit, would wake me up from the comfort zone. Everytime he spoke to me about my situation, I see how hazardous things are. After spending the past 8 months working closely with him, Eugene knows my situation better than anyone else, and he never fails to offer precious and wise advices. Even after ORD, we had discussed my problem over MSN.

I had already applied for BSc Business from SIM-UOL. I did so without measuring the risk ahead. Even til now, I have not a source to support the studies. And so, Eugene analysise my situation again. He is now working as a temp in a firm. Together with him are a handful of SIM graduates, also there working as temps. Most of their other friends who graduated from SIM, either cannot find work or only find a job with a starting pay of < $1500-1600. Many sucessful entrepreneurs pounced on opportunities, they need no degrees. A fresh graduate with top honours foresees a $3.5K pay, and an average starting pay for a NUS grad is $2.3K. When SIM's marketability will most probably lose to both NUS, NTU and SMU, I would expect a 2K pay with a decent certificate. I can't confidently guarantee even a decent looking certificate. Measuring opportunity cost, I would lose out 3 years of working experience and income, incur an additional $23K of debt, and spend another 3 years repaying the debt. Altogether, I lose 6 good years of income in exchange for a cert and some theories. What Eugene highlights sound all so logical and reasonable, despite my desire to persue the degree. Moreover Eugene pointed out that I am simply not cut out for studying, which I agreed. His suggestion: from now on, work my ass off, day and night, sleep 4 hours a day, get paid, clear all outstanding debts, and start a business in 10 years time. He, as a lawyer with a decent income, promised to invest in time to come. He says, "you'll get a better chance in the real world, rather than following the flow," and that I have the responsibility, honesty, work ethics that aren't traits for studying. He suggests I take over every debt that dad owes, to truly measure the amount of time I need to clear everything before I can really concentrate on earning for myself and the potential business.

Dilemma. I'm facing a choice between realism & my desire?

Human is a very complicated being. It takes alot of perspective from different levels to to define human and its life. Although I hate it, I have to be undecisive in this issue. I need more perspectives to measure the pros and cons.

While his words piled pressure on me, on the other hand, more pressure pours in. I am fire-fighting against the debt that dues in 2 days. Finally the creditors are coming to auction off our properties. The debts are credited to my stepmother, who did not live with us for more than a year. I've been to the police station to sought advice and called up the citibank (creditor), all of not much help. With one day left to sort this out, I can only pray for a glimpse of hope by calling ICA to inform them that stepmother had not changed her address, bidding for a chance that they would direct the charge to her new address. The monkey clan actually planned to celebrate Hanjun's 21st birthday at my house this coming Saturday. I told Guofeng to put it on hold first. I wish that the celebration can take place. I was complacent, that I had not tried anything to resolve this earlier when I have abundance of time. I was just too complacent to get things done. I assumed things would straighten out when the time comes. This is yet another painful lesson.

O.R.D Special: Pseudo Army

21 January 2003, I set my foot upon the shores of Pulau Tekong as a recruit.
6 April 2003, I trained in OCS as an Officer Cadet.
28 January 2004, I commissioned as 2nd Lieutenant and was posted to 1PDF.
21 June 2004, I was posted to ITI due the merger.
1 Feb 2005, I promoted to Full Lieutenant one year after commissioning.
20 March 2005, OPERATIONAL READY DATE.

Two years and two months long of service in the Singapore Armed Force was a rather fruitful journey. After commissioning I had minimum exposure to combat roles, and I had sticked to the technical and administrative field of the organisation. My combat knowledge remained stagnant at an Officer Cadet level. However the staff work had prep me up for future adminstrative rides.

Many had wondered why I never wanted to sign on the Army since I'm so financially-screwed. It is a foolproof logical route that can bring stability and security to my studies and my family. But I insist on starting afresh outside the SAF. It may mean a continuity of the crisis back at home, and risking my chance to graduate with a degree without any financial stumbles. In spite of this, I am determined to get away from working in this pseudo world.

A world constructed and constituted to showcase how well we could defend ourselves. A new world order is established within the dimension. While training involves taking on imaginary enemies, when there's no blood being shed, the army regulars get paid for going through the motions. I totally agree that it is more than essential to showcase this world, and that's probably why the organisation is one of the richest in our region. Therefore many local talents are spotted and lured, with high flyers easily earning over 10K per month.

The rules and regulations lacks the flexibility due to the essential enforcement of strict discipline. The nature of the working style is sufficient to fustrate me for the 2 years in army. The product of this world is of intangible nature. Unlike the rapidly-paced stage in the real world, we could see the results of our hard work almost immediately, and more often than not, the profits goes solely to the investor. Working in the pseudo world, where ever-happening-peace is taken for granted, does not produce fulfilling results.

Time is a vital factor to me. I choose time over capital. So it's time for me to reap as much experience I could, as I take the rocky path.

A World without Thieves

Fuck. I was yet again being cheated of, and this time round an Indian boy. It was really no big deal, but I was really pissed over it. The boy approached me in the supermarket to lend my handphone for a call, claiming that his phone's prepaid hi-card had no credits left. The call was a fairly short one that took at most a minute or two. A few minutes later, when I went for a smoking break at a coffeshop nearby, I saw that bugger walking on the streets in a distance, talking on his handphone. If not for the unfinished drink on my table, I would not hesitate to confront him and clarify this issue. I'm irritated. With every such incident, my level of trust in people (Singaporeans) drops. I used to be a firm optimistic believer of "A World without Thieves". Well, not anymore, especially after the Malay bitch's incident. I don't even feel like donating to any charity organisation or handicaps on the streets. They all look like cheats to me.

Once during the break of dawn, at Bishan Junction 8, while awaiting the first train to arrive, a monk approached me. He showed me a card with signatures and names on it. On the last column are numbers like 20, 30, 50, etc. He asked me to write my name in, and put in on the next column what I would like to pray for. Similar to previous scribblings, I wrote a "平安" (safe). He then gave me a small golden card with Kuan Yin Goddess on one side, and some chanting scripts on the other. Then he told me to (note: he did not ask) write a figure in the last column. I knew it meant a donation, but he did not explain that column is for donation, not until I ask. He said, "twenty or thirty is fine. Can be any amount." I reply him that I'm not donating. His face turned irritated all of a sudden. He sounded sacarstic," you dun even have $5? Any amount is fine." With the golden card still in my hand, I said no and walked away. I thought this cheat monk is a disgrace to the religion.

Yesterday, I went for an audition with a company that is looking for freelance singers. This company planned to hold live concerts in public places, and therefore is recruiting singers. At the audition was two other candidates. After some introduction, I went ahead first with "Heaven Knows" by Rick Price. As usual, it went terribly wrong as I started the song with a key too high, resulting in the inability to reach the highest point of the song. The other two candidates were Janice and Alex. Janice has a wonderful soft voice, while I think Alex sucks big time. Well, the interviewer told Alex that he was officially recognised in her team of singers. Then she brought me and Janice into the office, and told us that we can sing well, but we need more trainings on speech and drama, in order for us to perform well live on stage. I agree with her totally, but the point that she had scraped away the course on going through voice training made me suspicious. She had previously criticised about my techniques in singing, and now I'm only required to go through speech and drama course. This course costs $360 for 8 lesson over 2 months. It came to my mind straight away: another money cheating sucker. I suspect that after 2 months of training, she might well kick me out of the team still, with the excuse that I 'm still not good enough. I went on to suspect that everything is a fraud, a conspiracy to cheat me of my money. I even suspect that Alex was part of the ploy to convince me into joining the team. I also doubt the qualification, quality and professionalism of the course instructor. Janice had easily agreed on taking the course. She might be the accomplice too.

All this went through my mind at that point of time. After coming out of the audition, I realised that I was becoming very overly suspicious of strangers and coporates, especially when dealing with issues involving money. It could be a plus point for me to be on alert mode in unfamiliar situations, but I feel sad to realise that I have lost serious faith in people.

Stangers are dangerous and evil.

Gimme your wallet!

Today - no camp, no part times, no calls from friends to meet up - there's nothing to welcome this Wednesday. For this, I had stayed all day at home. As part of the government's desire to boycott smokers, I lived a smoke-free day today. As a result the running nose ran like tap water today. Also as part of the society's desire to promote the golden rule that money makes the world goes round, I treated myself to 2 meals of Taiwan's chicken soup instant noodles today. At the end of the day, the dry taste of the MSG was just to gross and made me feel sick. As part of my daily workout regime, two packs of instants mee are not going to supply me enough nutritions. Thus, supper was a sumptuous mocha chill milk with microwave heated pizzas from Cheers.

All the above craps are featured as part of welcoming the new phase of my life - going back to a broke.

My last allowance from SAF had settled the utilities bill. Putting it simply, this marks the first step out of the rigid but freakingly rich organisation. Stepping forward, I wasn't able to bring along any hard cash with me. A fresh start indeed.

After making some enquiry calls to SIM and various banks, I realise my foolishness to have taken it for granted that I would have no trouble getting a loan from bank. I was still hoping for the operator to tell me that SIM provides help schemes to needy students. Darn. I can't even find a guarantor to fulfill the condition of applying a study loan. Mum had already officially retired from her Sentosa's ridiculously-unreasonable-pricing store. Although I still bear a dim hope that mum's husband would offer to lend the sum, I am too embarrassed to turn to him for the cash. The money is meant for his son. Moreover, other than money, there's one more thing I hate to owe - a favour.

To look for someone to be a guarantor made me feel like a beggar, and I hate it. It will take me no less than a couple of years. How much can I earn with my tattered A-levels certificate? Hell am I losing out in time.

The practicality of the lucre-based society had highlighted how deeply rooted the money tree to its core, depleting the chance of an average candidate in poverty to strive alongside the majority. The subsidies and grants are only meant for potential candidates. I should wake up already.

I have 2 weeks to find either the money or a guarantor. Or else I would be sentenced to be a year of an average thug.

Revive the Spirit of Art

This is currently my favourite piece. (Mastered on 4 July 2003)

Revive the art spirit in me!It's rare that I could get into an artisitic mood with the monkeys. 15 March 2005, Robert posed as my model at Bishan portrait. Qinhui is my first ever art student.

and the dragon Qinhui mentioned that her cousin might like...

Looking back to the Superman days

It is pretty fun to rate the different jobs that I had held. Therefore I now do a review on my days as the Superman in Chinablack, as a DBS credit card promoter, and as an Assistant Training Management Officer in Infantry Training Institute...

Review for a Server at Chinablack (Rating of 1 to 10)

• Pay: 3 At $6 per hour, it's a lousy pay for a weekend late night.
• Working Hours: 5 6 hours is already considered a long time for me in the clubhouse. (Refer to Enstein's Theory of Relativity).
• Distance: 7 Situated in town, it's always nice to report for work after dinner with pals.
• Freedom : 3 There's no chance for hiding to take a break. Each of us was only allocated a short 15 minutes smoking break.
• Working environment: 1 As mentioned in earlier blog entries (http://rec0nteur.blogspot.com/2004/10/im-superman.html), the place made me wana puke after absorbing all the smokes, noises, and lightings.
• Boss: 3 I do not like how the supervisor's attitute. Fucking kuai-lan.
• Interaction with new collegues: 8 I do not quite like most of the staffs, but there were a handful of them that are willing to teach and appeared friendly.
• Babes: 10 It babes and babes and babes no matter which way I turned.
• Enjoyment: 3 Although the music was loud, it could well be the only cool thing. I had no mood to admire at the babes.
• Physical requirement: 8 With little breaks, it's a struggle to keep walking to and fro the packed clubhouse for 6 hours. My poor legs really hurts.
• Mental requirement: 2 There's nothing to learn as a server after I understood my job routine - to clear glasses and ashtrays.
• Safety: 2 Seriously hazardous to work there for a long term. Music exploding in the ears, air filled with second hand smoke, giddy lightings. Terrible.
• Learning Value: 3 As a server, I only learn more names to the different kinds of liquors.
• Overall Job Satisfaction: 4 I quit after 3 weeks. It's a place for clubbers, not workers.

Review for a DBS Credit Card Promoter (Rating of 1 to 10)

• Pay: 6 An average pay of $6 per hour for weekend.
• Working Hours: 6 6 hours of working the streets of Orchard is rather tiring.
• Distance: 7 Town is a good place to chill out before and after work.
• Freedom: 5 We had freedom to do whatever we want, but there are timely spotchecks from the mangement who hid among the crowd. So we had to act in caution. Occasionally, we sneaked a 2 hour long break.
• Working environment: 9 Walking the streets of Orchard during Christmas truly surrounded me with the joy of the festive season.
• Boss: 6 The lady expected demands and therefore drew a distinct line between boss and worker.
• Interaction with new collegues: 10 I made some really cool new friends who turned out to be good KTV buddies!
• Babes: 8 There's no lack in babes roaming the streets.
• Enjoyment: 4 I did not experience much fun. My face was pretty black most of the time.
• Physical requirement: 8 The continuous walking to and fro the streets, carrying a large signboard did tire me out at the end of the day.
• Mental requirement: 7 This job also involved studying human behaviour, and therefore I had to come out with different approaches to coax potential customers.
• Safety: 8 My big signboard on top of me did hit a few passerbys when I bent over.
• Learning value: 6 There are techniques to pick up in the art of sales and promoting.
• Overall Job Satisfaction: 6 I do not like to approach strangers in the streets to promote. I rather they approach me. But it's still a good experience altogether.

Review for a SAF Officer in ITI (Rating of 1 to 10)

• Pay: 9 For 1K++ per month this income had been the pillar to ensure the survival of my family.
• Working Hours: 7 Although working hours is a seemingly long 9 hours, it past rather fast.
• Distance: 3 Also known as Siberia, TG Camp is situated at Tuas. It took me a bit more than an hour to reach camp.
• Freedom: 9 Referring to the times that Eugene and I are the biggest fuck in the office, we were totally free to do whatever we want: read newspaper, soccer, tea time, surf net, play game, etc. The restriction came in only when I received a call or SMS from boss.
• Working environment: 8 The camp felt like a resort to me. With the wide variety of entertainments available, life never gets boring in camp.
• Boss: 8 I am glad to have MAJ S as my direct boss. Cuz he is always so busy to be bothered to supervise us.
• Interaction with new collegues: 10 It's always nice to have other people bumping into my office to look for challengers in chinese chess. Or we would have a game of Soul Calibre 2 before switching to FIFA 2005. And Eugene had been influential in changing my attitute for the better.
• Babes: 1 Self-explanatory.
• Enjoyment: 7 It was fun when I get to take total charge of my own time. But my jobs were pretty unappealing to me.
• Physical requirement: 8 Even when as a staff officer, I was often picked to take part in running competitions. I was compelled to maintain a certain level of fitness.
• Mental requirement: 10 Boss always like to give us little details and ask us to brainstorm for more when putting up a report.
• Safety: 9 There's no physical harm I could sustain. Maybe some indigestions from oversleeping after lunch?
• Learning value: 10 For spending 8 months in this camp, I had definitely felt I had not wasted time working in this organisation. I grew up alot. 2 years in army well spent!
• Overall Job Satisfaction: 8 It was fulfilling for the time in ITI. But the rigid system of SAF is the reason that I longed to be out of this organisation ASAP!

Once You Pop, The Fun Wun Stop

Besides working for the concerts, I got another weekend job as a promoter for Pringles. Pringles had intoduced two new flavors: "tomato salsa" & "grilled shrimp with pepper". So I was attached to Seng Siong Supermarket at Woodlands (beside the custom) for one month as a promoter giving out samples. The uniform is an ultimate turn off. I have to stand in the bright red and yellow uniform and bermudas for 8 hours. If not for the $9 per hour...

I first arrived at the supermarket (after spending $4 on transport for going to wrong places) to look for the supervisor. I got a pleasant surprise from the crews: they had no idea that a promoter was to be attached to them. Nonetheless they brought me to the section that stacked Pringles to chest level from the floor, before leaving me alone, looking helpless. I had no table, no gloves provided, but only myself, 12 sampling Pringles cans and 200 sampling cups.

Before I start to earn my first cent, I had to shop and pay for the gloves to be used later on. Then, I hunted for beer crates to be stacked and utilised as my table. Enthusiastically, I started to fill the cups with 4 pieces of different flavours each, and displayed them all in front of me. It was before long that my booth started to attract a small crowd. Since then, an endless stream of people came to sample the chips. Most of my customers were Malaysians. This place is a hangout for the Johor residents. It was fun observing the different kind of methods people would use to try the samples:

1. The nodding - these people would stop to try thr sample, and as I try to promote the new flavours, I can obviously see that they are not not listening, purely nodding their head impatiently in pretence that they are interested in hearing more.
2. The hit and run - I don't like this band of people for they appeared rude to me. They don't even look me in my face before grabbing the cup and go. They simply disregard my existence.
3. The child's play - a lot of parents like to stand from a distance, and order their children to come and take the samples. And so these children grabbed the number of cups relative to the number of people in the family. Most of the time, the kids deployed the "hit and run" technique.
4. The pitiful stare - kids like to use this tactic. They come to my table and stare at the chips. Some kids look at the chips, then run away, then come back in a few seconds to look again, then run away. This can go on forever if I don't offer them the samples. Some others just stand and stare at the chips, not daring to take until I satisfy them with the samples.
5. The freeloaders - some would keep walking to and fro in front of my booth, taking a cup of samples each time he past my table, assuming that I would not take notice it. Sad to say, not only the kids did this. A handful of adults had attempted.

I truly appreciate it when people sincerely stop by to sample before deciding which flavour to purchase.

There were a few interesting incidents over the 2 days that I had worked there. One lady in her fifties tasted the chips. (We conversed in English) I introduced her to the flavour, "this is our newly introduced tomato flavour." She nodded to show she understood, then asked, "orhh.. tomato ah this one.. hmm then you have potato flavour?" I was at a total lost for words for an instance, before pointing to her that all the four flavours are potatoes actually. She then nodded her head, "orhh...", before walking away.

2 kids, a girl and a boy came to my table. They had a strong unpleasant body odour on them, as if they never bathe for weeks. The girl took a cup and munched happily. The boy stood still beside her, looking at her in envy. He stood there looking at my samples for a long time before his sister asked for another cup for him, "he wants to take but he dun dare to". I gave the sample to him, smiling friendly. He started eating the pieces, and I swear I had never seen anyone appreciate a potato chip to this extent. He appeared to have never tasted potato chips before, and as he chewed, he expressed a smile of joy and gratitude, eyes almost tearing. Man was I touched by this scene.

Once, because I ran out of cups, so I would tell the shoppers to take the chips only, and leave the cup behind. One boy then took the cup and ate the chip. I kindly asked him to give me back the cup, but he mistook that he was not supposed to take the samples, thinking that I was chiding him. In fear, he hurriedly put the half bitten chip back in the cup. What happened next really took me by surprise... The boy reached for the chewed crumps in his mouth and put them all back in the cup, wet and gross. That also meant one more cup wasted.

On my second day of work, a malay man was nabbed for shoplifting. Both his hands were held tightly by two staffs as they walked past my table. As they proceeded on, the culprit tried, in a failure attempt, to struggle to break away.

Most of the staffs in the supermarket were irritating. They do not have the slightest sense of graciousness when they assumed that they have the right to eat the chips because we are "自己人". They don't even have the courtesy to ask.

On the whole, this job is fucking extremely boring. It needed me to stand there 8 hours with no one to chat to. Fortunately, I have no superior to report to. Therefore, when I was near the brim of boredom madness, I would head for the storeroom and read newspaper..until I fall asleep. Although for once this break unintentionally stretched up to 3 hours, it was crucial.

Review for a Pringles Promoter (Rating of 1 to 10)

• Pay: 10 For $9 per hour, it's the vital factor to keep me on this job.
• Working Hours: 6 Eight hours is the norm for most jobs. Allocated with one hour of meal break, it is still fine.
• Distance: 7 A half hour trip of a straight bus.
• Freedom : 10 In hokkien, I call this 没有政府 (no government). I'm the government. No supervisor, no boss, I call all shots to the length of breaks. Integrity is the factor that stopped me from not appearing for work while collecting pay.
• Working environment: 3 It's torturing to have to stand in one spot for a long time. I was compelled to look at the instant noodles poster pasted in front of my booth. The guy in the ad really gave an irritating expression. I would love to give him a hard punch in the face. Fortunately, the music played in the background wasn't too bad, with some Lee Hom, David Tao, and Beyond oldies.
• Boss: N.A.
• Interaction with new collegues: 1 The staffs are mostly freeloaders. The only one who chat a little with me is an auntie in her fifties. The rest are all irritants.
• Babes: 1 Pathetic. Not even more than a couple of babes shop in this supermarket, not to mention staffs.
• Enjoyment: 3 Pretty shameful to admit, the only enjoyable part is to have some weird customers to amuse me with their ignorance.
• Physical requirement: 3 The only physically tough part is to have to stand all the way.
• Mental requirement: 2 This is a very simple job and doesn't need much brain cells. It only involves a routine introduction of the product.
• Safety: 9 Perhaps only the shoplifter pose a little threat, please note: it's just "a little".
• Learning Value: 5 There's nothing much to learn other than studying the link between human behaviour and free goodies. It's the only intriguing part.
• Overall Job Satisfaction: 5 I don't like this job. My weekends are ruined by Pringles!