Sunday, July 31, 2005
yes baby, no tax
On the way home today from holiday-shopping, the Boyfriend mentioned that a colleague of his told him that women who have 4 children before the age of 28 will be exempt from income tax for the rest of their lives!
[Note: I don't know how accurate this information is, although said colleague purportedly has a friend who qualifies for this exempt. I found the baby bonus (dedicated) website but was too lazy to sieve through for the relevant information.]
Can you believe it?! 4 babies before 28?!
This probably means that you'd have get married at 23, first baby at 24, second at 25, third at 26 and fourth at 27! Which means I have disqualified myself from the running; unless I get married now and have twins on my first go. Right.
Besides spending the best part of your career (the foundation-forming part of it, no less) living with morning sickness, craving for the oddest food at 3am and feeling like a baby-factory, there'll also be hell to pay just living with 4 babies.
Can you imagine... Your firstborn will be in arms when you're carrying Number Two; Number One will be crawling and Number Two will be in arms when you're carrying Number Three; Number One will be walking, Number Two crawling and Number Three in arms when you're carrying Number Four; Number One talking, Number Two walking, Number Three crawling and Number Four in arms when you're finally done.
And with such a young family, it'll probably be years until you can go back to the workforce (if ever). Your limited work experience and heavy family commitments are likely to impede any significant career development. I mean, after 4 kids, I'm certain it's only natural that a woman's focus is more her family and less her work.
So actually, the lifetime income tax exemption doesn't mean much (in terms of money saved), does it?
Sneaky sneaky Government.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
what do you do
... with an assistant who accuses you of taking over all the work. So much so she has nothing to do and that's why she idles. And of course she didn't question this arrangement because I'm the higher power.
Now this is beyond ridiculous.
1. I took over my over-worked predecessor's portfolio as-is.
2. I don't figure that I'm hording all the work just so I can work all day, all night and all weekend.
3. I don't dare to hand over work to her simply because she hasn't given me a reason to trust that she will get it done promptly and accurately.
4. Who am I to tell her what to do? I'm only a small fry.
And the icing on the cake is...
... a boss who makes comments like: "I wish I could bring my maid to work." Need I say more?
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
over msn today
new day, new look
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
re: observations
I was inspired to write this post from The Princess' observations entry. And in a sense, this is also an extension of yesterday's ranting about obligations.
So when was the last time you gave up your seat in a train/ bus to "someone who needs it more than you"? I shan't digress into the omnipresent propaganda in our lives. I shan't.
But really. I mean, why should people pass moral judgment on those who don't jump out of their seats at the sight of a pregnant lady or elderly folks?
Everyone pays (more or less) the same fare for said public transport. A teenager thus has the same right to a seat as a pregnant lady. A simple matter of equality, isn't it?
Sure, it's a nice gesture to offer your seat to someone else. But shouldn't such moves be purely voluntary?
In the first place, who is to say that a pregnant lady or elder needs the seat more than say, a young man or teenager? It is a generalisation to assume so.
What if the pregnant lady has been resting at home all day (or all six months) while the young man has been working his ass off? Who would know if said young man has had all of four hours of sleep everyday for the past two weeks? Who would know if said young man again is in the service line and stands on his feet for eight hours at a go? Who would know if said young man is ill? Or if he is suffering from an ankle injury?
No one.
It's so easy to pass judgment on other people - that man is young and strong he should stand, otherwise he's just a selfish bastard. But what happened to giving other people the benefit of the doubt?
I once read a contribution to ST Forum by a married woman. She related an incident where a pregnant lady literally demanded that she forsake her seat. Based on what, I ask?
There are even times when these "needy" (as propaganda will tell you) will refuse an offered seat out of sheer pride. When I was still a schoolgirl, I was once berated by an old Chinese man who felt slighted that I even thought that he needed a seat more than I did. The whole incident was so bloody embarrassing - he yelled at me and told me he didn't need pity.
So you see, who is to say who "needs" a seat more than whom?
Why must we be morally obliged to sacrifice a paid seat to someone else?
Monday, July 25, 2005
i am much obliged
I once knew someone who always espoused that friendship (or any relationship for that matter) should be free of obligation. I surmise that he feels this way because obligation often puts strain on the giving party.
I witnessed, not too long ago, an episode that left me bewildered, really. Perhaps it's because I'm a third party looking in at the situation. A beloved colleague who left for greener pastures agreed to help her (ex-) boss with some work because her replacement had yet to report for duty. Now this sounds all fine and dandy until you realise that this "helping out" involved coming back to our office after a 9-6 day in her new one, and working til 11ish each time.
Of course you need a relationship with your boss - one that transcends the office and into true friendship - before an ex-subordinate would go the whole nine yards for him/her. I still say until today that this was a debt of friendship.
Admittedly, her boss was and still is very nice to her. When she came back to work, he made sure she was paid her regular hourly pay, drove to the nearest MRT station to pick her up, bought her dinner and drove her home again. It's a two-way thing, then, obligation crap.
Also an interesting demonstration of obligation happened to me two weeks back. Now I know, and you know and everyone knows, that I am no longer in Events. But my three month stint in the department did grow 'friendship', for the lack of a better term. I'm not saying that I'm not friends with my Events colleagues; comparative to other colleagues, I am. But I wouldn't go as far as to say we're really friends, you know? Friends are so much more than that. I know, because I have a bunch of them and we've lasted ten years and counting. So anyway, I concede that I am chummy with them and I enjoy my long lunches with them.
It happened one day that one of them came up to me with a desperate look on his face and said that he was short on manpower for an evening event coming up. I obliged. So that Wednesday, I worked til 11ish helping out. Fine.
Then it got worse.
Another guy came along (with a we're-friends-so-you-won't-say-no look on his face) and told me point blank that I have been deployed for another event. On a Sunday. From 9-5pm. I was flabbergasted to say the least. But apparently that was that and before I could react, my name turned up on the admin programme. Til today I still wonder, at which moment in my life did I agree?
You see, it's not that I'm drawing a line between my jobscope and theirs. But try to understand that encroaching on my weekends is a different issue all together. Work, as it is, is torturous and my only respite is the weekend. Searching my heart, I realise that what I really take issue with is that he didn't ask. He assumed. That I was obliged to help out a friend.
After going through the duty list for Sunday's event, I find out that my "duty" isn't even that crucial! I mean, anyone could do it. His no-good boss, for example, could easily do it. So tell me why I need to work on a Sunday for that?
I guess I'm coming across very selfish - admittedly so. But once again, try to understand. I've had 2 weekends burnt this month because of events. Together with that Sunday event, my first 2 weekends next month are effectively gone with the wind as well. Tell me how that doesn't suck. Especially for someone who isn't even in Events no more.
Even more ridiculous was a "favour" asked from me a few weeks back. But I shan't elaborate. Enough is enough already.
All this post serves to tell is that I've finally - truly - understood what that old friend of mine meant about obligations.
I am much obliged; whether I like it or not.
the island - a review
So I watched Ewan McGregor and Scarlet Johansson's The Island despite prior claims that I wouldn't catch such a silly show. Admittedly, the film was better than I had given it credit for - blame the trailer, I say.
Warning: this review includes spoilers.
I guess everyone's clear on the gist of the show: McGregor and Johansson are clones living in a facility, cordoned off from the real world. Along with the thousands of residents there, they are clones made-to-order by people dripping with moolah. A whooping 5mil each! So these clones live in the facility until their sponsors require their parts - skin, organs, that sort of thing. Well, evidently the clones are none the wiser about this gruesome fact of life. They have been programmed to believe that the world was inflicted with "contamination" that killed all life. They are special. They are the survivors. Talk about brain-washing. Geez.
Running to.. or Running from?
So anyway, the film really was about running.
I mean, hell, the duo really ran alot. They ran around the facility, ran out of the facility, ran through the desert, ran around the train station, ran onboard the train - *breathe* - they ran around the streets of LA, ran from baddies, ran from good guys.
The most common line in the film was - you guessed it - "RUN!"
Sponsored by...
What also struck me about the film was the tad-too-conspicious product placements. From one of the first scenes, we learn that residents of the facility deck themselves head-to-toe in Puma-sponsored apparel.
Other noticable brand presence - MSN Search, Ben & Jerry's, Nokia, American Express, Chrysler and Calvin Kelvin.
And I probably didn't catch everything, unobservant me.
I am God
The subject matter at hand - creating life; destroying life; one wacko scientist's God-complex - deserves more than a fleeting glance. I noticed however, that the film very conveniently glazed over the matter.
Johansson's sponsor was supposedly mutilated in a car wreck. She needed lung, kidney and heart transplants, and that's why Johansson was 'chosen' to go to The Island (a euphemism for Heaven, if you ask me). But McGregor (aka Sherlock Holmes) found out that reality bites and ran off (see above) with her.
Johansson knew that her sponsor was dying unless she received the necessary transplants. But Johansson the clone wanted to live. Knowing that this would be at the expense of her sponsor. The film left this moral dilemna dangling and only near the end, revealed that because of the delay, Johansson's sponsor was likely to suffer brain damage, with or without the parts. But of course, if Johansson had made the decision to save one life with hers, her sponsor wouldn't be in this state now would she?
So in this convenient manner, the film touches upon a controversial subject matter but refrains from delving too deep into it lest it opens up another can of worms.
To a certain extent then, the flick focuses more on extended mind-boggling (headache-inducing) action sequences and stylised closeups of Johansson and McGregory than it does the morally-debatable issue of human cloning.
Well like people say, that's Hollywood for you.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
too
I've never noticed til today how noisy the office can get.
Too many people, in too small a space, talking too loudly to too many people on too many telephones.
Makes it too noisy to listen to a too-soft recording with a player too old.
Tonight's going to be a long one. Too long. Too long.
Monday, July 18, 2005
the greatest insult
You merrily go for an interview.
You think it went well.
You wait 3 weeks but get no response.
You send a polite but probing email.
They reply.
They tell you the position has just been filled.
They wish you all the best.
Another 3 weeks pass.
You surf JobsDB.com.
You see an advertisement
For the same position
In the same company.
Woe is me.
monday reds
No Monday blues for me today. No siree. I've morphed past blue, now I'm seeing red.
I'm seeing red (half at myself, half at someone else) because:
1) I kinda forgot about the timeline for several papers I need to put up,
2) I was away from office on Friday, and return to find that someone didn't bother to help me vet any of the stuff that came in,
3) Barely any stuff came in (5 days away from print and I've yet to lay eyes on the remaining 62 pages),
4) Loads of ad-hoc crap are piling up on my tray
5) Help is out for a fag when I need help
What a wonderful week this is going to be.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
they're all different.. but similar
From the first one to that one, and now this one. Three different women bosses in 11 months. And my oh my, what a ride it has been.
And still is.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
you're just jealous
SPH pulls no punches as it forces NKF's CEO to admit that he earns $25,000 a month and enjoys bonuses of 10-12 months each year. It's claimed that gasps filled the courtroom when this was revealed.
Singapore is abuzz with murmurs of dissent, disgust and rage about this. A non-profit organisation that relies solely on public funds pays their CEO that amount? To think my colleague said working in NGOs doesn't pay. I guess it depends which NGO eh?
I do agree that that sort of annual income is rather obscene for an organisation that pledges to serve the ill and under-privileged/ needy. But I'm not taking too nicely to anyone who grouses about feeling cheated aka "my donations went to his gold tap/ first-class flight?!".
To be brutually honest, I think a majority of contributors to the NKF Charity Shows are enticed by the huge-ass prizes and indecent amounts of money. It's like buying lottery, ya? This was quite evident from the barrage of NKF Charity Show advertisements that you can run but cannot hide from on TV recently. The pitch is blatantly 'donate and win this' or 'donate and win that', followed by a 'oh yah and you get to help someone too'.
I'm certain that there are kind-hearted souls who look at the NKF hoohah and think, Gosh I should help cancer/ kidney patients. There surely are.
But for majority of us - having never experienced the pain of perhaps losing a loved one to cancer/ kidney failure; or having never witnessed the miracle of having a loved one fight and win the battle against disease - we don't necessary relate to the (melodramatic) reality snippets that they broadcast. Sure, you feel sorry for the patients. But how can you say you really understand if you've never been in, or near, that sort of situation before?
So if your foremost thought while you dialled the hotline/ sent that SMS was wonder-if-I'll-win-the-condo/car/cash, then please save me the I-feel-so-cheated crap. You're just jealous.
::
I remember once having a conversation about karma and the question I posed, which remains painfully unanswered to date is: if you do something good with the wrong intentions, do you still get 'credit' (for the lack of a better term) for it? And vice versa, of course.
I still don't know. Do you?
Monday, July 11, 2005
newton's first law
Isn't ironic that Newton's first law of motion is the lack of motion? Inert is exactly what I am now.
I'm so horrid; I've been procrastinating working on the copies for the next issue of the mag. And today I realise with a rather rude jolt that we're due to print in 2 weeks' time. 2 freaking weeks!
I guess part of the reason for my laziness is because my new boss is onboard and I kinda expected her to be the super hands-on type. Doesn't really seem to be happening though. I've to think of some sneaky way to make her work on at least some of the stories/ copies.
After 1 week now, my initial impression of her is wearing off some. I know she's experienced in the magazine publishing side of this job, but her media relations methods seem lacking. Plus she has some deep-seated grudge with one of my publishers. No good for work, I tell you. No good at all.
I guess to a certain extent I can't really blame her. She had a nasty experience with him (though he tells me that he had a nasty experience with her) so I guess she's already formed some kind of opinion about him. I don't appreciate, however, her going after the sub-contracted photographer; he's never been rude or snide or caustic to any one of us these 6 months, and in 1 hour of meeting her, she claims he bit her head off? Like, huh?
I'm not too certain myself if this is a reflection of her disdain towards the publishing house: she hates them; they sub-conned him; she hates him?
I've told my publishing house, in all brutual honesty, that things are probably headed for the worst. And it's not that I want to be callous, but I'm striving not to get embroiled into things. Since she's so into the magazine, I'd be delighted to hand it over to her and just be the "assistant". It'll free me up to do other stuff anyway.
But first, I have to speak with my publishing house about reworking the pagination. She isn't happy with me. Goodness. Someone save me.
It's going to be a really long week.
Friday, July 08, 2005
london bomb blasts
Tony Blair's statement was brilliant, I find.
I think we all know what they are trying to do, they are trying to use the slaughter of innocent people to cow us, to frighten us out of doing the things we want to do, of trying to stop us going about our business as normal as we are entitled to do and they should not and must not succeed.
When they try to intimidate us, we will not be intimidated, when they seek to change our country, our way of life by these methods, we will not be changed.
When they try to divide our people or weaken our resolve, we will not be divided and our resolve will hold firm.
We will show by our spirit and dignity and by a quiet and true strength that there is in the British people, that our values will long outlast theirs.The purpose of terrorism is just that, it is to terrorise people and we will not be terrorised.
My condolences to all Londoners. Hang in there.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
where not to eat in singapore
I read with much bemusement tym's where not to eat in singapore entry. I've been silently reading tym's blog for quite some time now - as I do with mrbrown and missdrinkalot, to name my favs.
But anyway, tym's latest eat-at-cartel-at-your-own-risk entry was so hilarious I couldn't fight the urge to respond. I had wanted to leave a comment - one of my firsts, I must add - but decided that I had enough to say to warrant an entry of my own.
So. Cafe Cartel. The last time I ate there, I almost suffered a heart attack over the dismal service. First up though, I must say that although I am a tad prissy when it comes to customer service (or lack thereof), I was in a cheery mood when I went to the Plaza Sing outlet for lunch. The bosses were all away from the office for some reason or another, so we fled the office and ended up in town for a 2-hour lunch (heh heh).
Between my lunch party of 4, we ordered 1 sandwich, 1 set lunch and 2 lasagnas (1 chicken, 1 beef). No special requests, either. And then we waited. And waited. And ate bread. And waited.
Finally the food began to arrive, the set lunch heading the pack. Consensus around the table was that the kitchen must be mass churning those out.
Next up, a waitress came with a plate of beef lasagna, or so she claimed. My colleague dug into it, half wondering if it was chicken but unable to distinguish - the tomato sauce was that overwhelming. Nevertheless, we took the waitress' word for it and believed it was beef.
After the next ten minutes, all we were missing was the chicken lasagna. So we gestured (frantically) for someone's attention and reminded him of that. It was after that that the strangest thing happened...
A male waiter (god knows what his problem is/was) suddenly appeared by the side of our table. All 4 faces turned to look up at him, only to find that he was straining his neck to intently stare at my colleague's half-eaten lasagna. Now, that was downright rude, wasn't it? So I asked loudly and grossly ironically, Can I help you?
He turned to look at me with a perplexed look on his face and was silent for an awkward 5 seconds before he said, I think that's the chicken lasagna.
Now we were perplexed. My colleague (rather comically) stopped short of shovelling another spoonful into her mouth. I clarified, The waitress said it was beef.
He evidently had no reply to that, so I guess his next best response was to ignore me. He turned and walked away, actually. So that pissed me off. I told my colleagues that it was obviously a mistake on their end and the waiter should have the decency to at least apologise. Apparently that remark was loud enough to jolt the waiter back from whatever planet his mind wandered to. When he returned shortly with yet another plate of beef lasagna, he made it a point to mumble under his breath a "sincere" sorry about that.
(Sidenote: By this time, I had polished off an entire philly steak sandwich. The episode took that long.)
Given the half-eaten state of the chicken lasagne, my poor colleagues had to make do with each other's order. We decided against insisting that they fix up a new plate of chicken lasagna - by the time we returned to the office, we would probably have been fired already.
And just like that, a supposedly happy lunch outing deep in the heart of town turned into a rather unhappy gastronomical experience. So much so that only speed-shopping after lunch could have saved the day.
So yeah, cartel is up there on my where-not-to-eat-in-singapore list. Right below that now-infamous char kway teow stall.
lessons from Everest
It. is. astounding.
Yesterday I had the opportunity to meet with the NUS Everest Team for an interview. Their 3-year journey in conquering the greatest height in the world was amazing, to say the least. They were such nice guys too; acceded to our request to view the Everest photos and brought a whole chunk. Even agreed to let us reproduce some breathtaking shots for the magazine spread.
I was burning these photos into a CD for my publishing house to take away but couldn't resist saving them on my harddisk to view at a later time. And the photos almost blew me away.
I remember one Everest team member saying that scaling Everest put alot of things into perspective for him. That you don't really cherish life until you find yourself in such a precarious situation where your life is literally hanging in the balance. He said he learnt, on Everest, that there is life and then there is death. So simple. So clear.
We often grouse about having a "bad day", but I figure he has found that we should be happy we even have a day.
Which is so true, don't you think? We so often get caught up in the wheels of life that we forget what we're even doing on this planet. We lose sight of the important things in life and it's quite sad that it takes the world's greatest mountain to remind you of this.
I figure that by fighting elements as harsh as those on Everest, you'd gain a new respect for Mother Nature and the power she wields. It puts us in our place, really, to understand that perhaps the human race doesn't "own" Earth even though we often act as if we do.
So many lessons I have learnt from Everest, without going to Everest. Thanks guys.
P/S I'm awfully tempted to upload the beautiful, beautiful photos, but I didn't exactly ask for permission from the team, so I shan't. (Who wants to get embroiled into an IP lawsuit nowadays?)
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
from famous.. to infamous
My mom often raves about this particular char kway teow stall and one day we stumbled upon the stall (it had moved away from wherever my mom used to patronise it from) in a food centre.
So last night, the Boyfriend and I went there for dinner. We ordered two $4 portions. I usually take the $3-sized portion but boy, was I starving (it was past 8pm when we finally got there)! So I decided to indulge.
I dove straight into the steaming plate of char kway teow with a fervour for food my friends rarely get to witness. But barely 10 mouthfuls later, I spotted something in my noodles. I gingerly picked it up with my chopsticks and throw it on the table with disdain.
Initially I had thought it was a tangle of thin wire, or something to that effect. Upon taking a second look, however, I discovered that it was... a long, curly, coarse strand of hair glistening with what I hope was oil from the noodles. The horror!
My stomach turned. I almost threw up. Literally.
I know you think I'm over-reacting because the entire time I was telling myself that I was over-reacting. But you had to see it to know! It was so strangly and coarse that I sincerely believe it was pubic hair. I still can see it in my mind's eye! Gross!!!
And so I promptly gave up the originally-sumptuous plate of char kway teow and settled for 8 sticks of satay instead.
That char kway teow stall had, in that single moment, gone from famous to downright infamous.
Woe befall me if I ever patronise that stall again.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
i can take a hint
Dear Higher-up Power
Look, I can take a hint alright.
I was innocently filling up a long online job application form (damn those stat boards) - and I do mean long - when the power died. The entire building was out, along with all other buildings in the vicinity. So like, fine, I lost everything! No biggie right? I was only 90% done with it and it only took me a good 30 minutes.
*mutter mutter grumble grumble*
After an hour or so, the power came back on. So I decided doggedly to start on it all over again; patiently filling field after field about my personal particulars, education and career history, when lo and behold, the power went out again.
I threw my head on the table in despair. Yes, I hear that I should have just smacked my forehead with my hand - less painful that way - but I'd lose that dramatic effect that had my neighbour sniggering under her breath.
Anyway, I can take a hint. I shall not attempt to fill that form again.
I'll just do it when I'm home.
So please stop cutting our power supply! It's hot in here!
Thank you.
P/S As I type this, I am praying really hard that darkness does not abruptly descend upon me. For the third freaking time.
Afternote
The Higher-up Power is really good. Shortly after I posted the above, we lost our Internet connection (I understand it's the aftermath of the preceding power loss situation). It's just been revived. Phew!
the commentator @ 6.43pm
Monday, July 04, 2005
always have something to look forward to
I am so wise. Those are my words of wisdom. Good, eh?
I realised today as I sat in my 4x4 that I am looking forward to blogging (not that I had anything specific I wanted to talk/write about). But anyway, I came up with this list:
Thursday - Look forward to self-declared dress-down Friday
Friday - Look forward to a night out and the weekend
Weekend - Self explanatory
Sunday - Look forward to a Monday of blogging through the workday
See! With that, life becomes abit more manageable, and abit less tiresome. If that doesn't work, try this:
Monday - Look forward to Tuesday
Tuesday - Look forward to Wednesday
Wednesday - Look forward to Thursday
Thursday - Look forward to Friday
Friday - Look forward to Weekend
Weekend - Hallelujah!
Sure it borders a (tiny) bit on delusion. But hey, if it gets you through the work-week, who's to say it's no good?
P/S: I already said I had nothing specific to blog about. So no complaining.
Friday, July 01, 2005
new boss in town
Hottest office gossip of the month: my new boss is in!
It's pretty obvious that my last boss left quite an impression on everyone, because I was bombarded this morning with comments like, "she looks nice" or "friendly" or "approachable" or "presentable". This is of course in stark contrast to her short-lived predecessor.
That aside, it is way too soon for me to know what kinda person she is, how good her work (and work attitude) is, and most importantly, whether I'll really have a easier time coping in the future.
I have spoken to her for at most an hour and I do not own a crystal gazing ball. At least not one that works.
I was rather surprised, though, at her background and qualifications - born of the magazine publishing world. Which is really quite impressive (maybe cos that's I want to do). But I thought the Management wanted someone of corporate experience? Oh well. Maybe they changed their mind after the Blackfaced Bear.
So anyway, stay tuned for updates on the new boss! Will create a chapter for her in The Tale once I am inspired about her character.
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