The best bosses know when to push their people to work harder, when to praise versus criticize their people, and when the best management is no management at all. They are seen as in charge, but have the wisdom to listen to their people closely and to encourage them challenge the boss’s ideas in civilized and instructive ways. They treat their people with dignity and respect, and serve as “human shields,” who protecting their charges harm, distraction, and idiots and idiocy of every stripe.
This is what I hope to become some day.
[click link above for full article and photo slideshow of real-life incidences of 14 of the worst bosses you could imagine.)
The 5 of us were having coffee post dinner at Chawan. Then Miss Best Friend said, guess who asked me to be his friend on facebook? (dramatic pause) Your Mr. Ex-boyfriend.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why she is Miss Best Friend. When the time comes to choose, you choose. You don’t become Switzerland and claim neutrality. It is not about your feelings. It is about mine.
And if you are on the fence and can’t decide which side you are on, let me make it for you. You’re out. Not benched. Not timed-out. You’re on team opposite now. The other team gets custody of you, of your principles and everything else that goes with it. Yes. This IS exactly like picking players for your team back in school during PE. I am not picking you last, I am not picking you at all.
Did I wake you? Were you sleeping? Were you still in the bed?
Or is a nightmare keeping you up instead?
Poor baby, are you feeling guilty for what you did?
If you think you’re hurting, you ain’t seen nothing yet
Was it really worth it?
Was she everything that you were looking for to feel like a man?
I hope you know that you can’t come back
‘Cause all we have is broken like shattered glass
You’re gonna see me in your dreams tonight
My face is gonna haunt you all the time
I promise that you gon’ want me back
When your life falls apart like shattered glass
Glass, glass, glass
Are you having trouble focusing throughout the day?
Do you find yourself still calling my name?
Do you wish you could rewind time and take it back?
I bet you realized that she ain’t half the woman I am
Was it really worth it?
Was she everything that you were looking for to feel like a man?
I hope you know that you can’t come back
‘Cause all we have is broken like shattered glass
You’re gonna see me in your dreams tonight
My face is gonna haunt you all the time
I promise that you gon’ want me back
When your life falls apart like shattered glass
Glass, glass, glass, glass, l-l-like glass, glass, glass
Billionaires and Fortune 500 companies are getting younger (Google, Facebook to name 2). Successful companies are those that listen to its young(er) voices, not those that admonishes it. Refuse to change then die. Even giants fall. Remember KODAK‘s lesson. Memorize it. Then don’t do what they did.
Excess friends are phantom friends. Good friends roll up their sleeves and ask, “What do you need?” even when you don’t need anything; the other kind couldn’t be bothered to say hello even when you are at death’s door . Get rid of these hangers-on. They are phantoms that eat up your time, energy and facebook wallfeed space. You won’t miss them when they are gone. This is not a theory.
When someone says, “It’s what’s best for everybody,” he means it’s what’s best for me. It’s the same as saying I’m in charge so it’s my decision, just politer. The subtext is, I want to do what I have made up my mind to do and nothing you say or do can make me change it. It’s not selfishness, at least for some people it is not intentionally selfish. But it does mean that you don’t figure in the decision-making process. No amount of argument, paperwork, heart-to-heart talk, supporters or evidence will change it. You are not bound by past promises, history, relationship, hierarchy; you are bound only by and to your honor. If a person wants to be an island, let him. If a person wants to learn his own lessons, let him. Character counts. Be the kind of person you want your child to be.
When a promise is made and your heart doubts it, listen. Weather changes. Mind changes. Feeling changes. Decision changes. Circumstance changes. People renege on their words. They may believe it when they make it, but if your heart doesn’t think they will make good on it, they probably won’t. When you listen, you cope better with the outcome. Doesn’t make it less awful, but you will not be as unprepared.
Forcing the heart to heal when it is not ready will just tear it further. It is not a race, it is not a race, it is not a race. It will heal when it heals.
I met a friend a few weeks ago for supper after I finished my run. He made a comment about me ordering dinner, something like what’s the use of running if you eat afterwards. And ever since my running is becoming a little bit more well known, many other people also make similar comments.
Ok, let’s just clear the air.
I have always been running. I have been a casual runner since 2007. Actually I don’t think I can even be called a runner. But apart from team sports, running is probably the easiest thing for me to do. Going to the gym, while tempting, presents too many logistics problems for me, while running can be done anytime, anywhere, any terrain. So it’s not anything new. It is not a fad. I have been doing it all along. Just not this regularly.
I don’t talk about it because it is just a daily routine, like eating or reading a book or playing video games. Really, it’s no big deal. I think the only person who is truly aware about my running would be LFN who used to sit in front of me at work. I don’t know why other people didn’t catch on coz I certainly did not hide it. Maybe because running and Ijah don’t sound right together?
I run for my life. I began to run more regularly since last August. I don’t run because I want to lose weight. I run because it was the ulimatum given to me by my doctor. Either I practice the DASH diet and run at least 3 times a week, or take a pill every day for the rest of my life. I opted for DASH and run, no pills. If your life depends on it, you’d run every day too, trust me. It was an easy choice.
I run coz I karaoke. Running helps me to breathe and lasts longer. If you have never been to a karaoke session with me, you have no idea how much energy I use. I am not one of those who sits prettily and sings like I am a stick. I run. I jump. I dance. I flail around. I am a fucking superstar and the karaoke table is my stage. And I like karaoke.
I run to think. I used to walk alone to clear my head. Now I just walk faster.
I run to listen to new music. I am a music snob. I used to listen to new music during the 1 hour bus ride to and from work. Now that I don’t work there anymore, I revert to old habit and only listen to stuff that I like again and again. When I run, I create several different playlists and play them at random. The MP3 player will be tucked in my bra, so I have no choice but to listen to whatever’s playing, and I have to listen carefully coz I time my steps to the beat. I still find some music is crappy just like I thought they would be, but at least now I give them a spin first rather than hating them purely on principle.
I run because it is easy and cheap. All I need is my MP3 player and a pair of running shoes. I don’t care if I don’t have a gym buddy, or someone to run with, or if it rains. And if I get tired, I stop. If I can’t run in the morning, I run in the evening. It is low maintenance, fuss-free, membership fees -free and pest-free. I am sick of people checking out my breasts bouncing up and down in the gym.
I love swimming too but I am not a good swimmer so I don’t do it often coz I am scared of swimming alone. Maybe someday I will take proper lessons and overcome my swimming alone fear. Right now, running’s still the best choice.
I run for me. Not for anyone else. You know how people fake-take-up sports or certain hobbies to connect with the people they hang out with, or to impress their boyfriend/girlfriend? I am not one of those people. So football season may come and go, boyfriends may come and go, jobs may come and go, but this, it’s my hobby, and it is not motivated by external factors. Just like playing the guitar and video games, I do them because they make me happy. I don’t care what other people think.
I set up running goals because I want to progress. I get bored easily. Unlike playing guitar where you can progress to doing improvisations and eventually songwriting, with running you can only go faster and longer. So I set goals to keep me interested and challenged. You put in 130 hours on Final Fantasy not because you’re slow but because you want to play the perfect game and unlock all the alternative endings. Who you gonna brag to? No one. You do it for yourself. I am no athlete, and I don’t think I can say that I am passionate about running. But setting goals keeps me interested. Plain and simple. Go for broke, AKLH would say. Doyle does it to win the girl (see clip below), I do it to get the free t-shirt. And NO, I am not fat.
Some of you know this, and some of you don’t. I have accumulated a lot of stuff over the years. Last year when I decided to move from my old apartment in Sunway to this new place with a better postcode, I disposed some of my books, shoes, CDs and paintings. Didn’t make me rich but allowed me to share stuff that I have pre-loved with people who will (hopefully) find some joy in owning them, and also paid for a couple of expensive haircuts and fish porridge with salted egg at Uncle Lim’s kopitiam in Amcorp Mall.
Well the good news is last April I moved to PJ8. Nice place, good security, VERY good location. Bad news is, my stuff doesn’t fit. I mean physically they don’t fit, not aesthetically. There is just no space. Those who have been to this place can vouch for that, I barely have space for shoes. I have been warehousing these (5-tonne lorry worth of stuff, I know that coz I had to book for a 5-tonne lorry from the movers. I originally booked a 2-tonne one, they looked at my stuff and said they have to change lorries) at Aning & Boyot’s place since then but they are also moving to their own place soon.
Tonight I hauled about 1/3 of my books from her house. I still have 2/3 to go, and 8 huge crates of clothes to go through, not to mention accessories, beddings and what-have-yous. So, in the next few weeks I will be posting things that I intend to give away and things that I’d like to sell coz I need new clothes to go with my new size (trust me, losing weight is fun but expensive so help me with this worthy cause).
But first off, I would like to dispose my new-ish pink HP 110 Mini Netbook. Details here, please click if interested.
I buzzed a new-ish friend tonight. Let’s call him tenshi (天使).
I need to sleep now, his message read.
What?! I exclaimed. It is only 2.39am.
He is a notorious night owl. Not as resilient as I am, after all I have had 10 years of practice. But he usually stays up til later.
I just got out of the hospital, was the reply.
Wow.
Why?
I almost died, came the answer.
I then told him that I would talk to him tomorrow and bade him good night. But not before calling him an idiot.
I have no idea why he almost died. So, calling him an idiot was probably an inappropriate, callous, insensitive thing to do.
I don’t have much experience with death. When confronting my own mortality, there are only two distinct incidences that made me think of death – an unprovoked vision brought upon by a sudden, debilitating migraine in 2005 while having supper at (then) Strudel’s in Bangsar with an old friend ; and about 2 months ago when my insomnia became so vicious that I ended up being awake for 96 hours and hallucinated about death (mine). Thankfully I became lucid long enough to seek immediate medical attention.
The last conversation that I had with my (late) grandfather was when he insisted on buying me lipstick; and the last one that I had with Adial, a former colleague from my production days, was about music and his freelance work. When my grandfather passed away, his younger brother died shortly after – from a broken heart, I was told. He never recovered from his sadness. I still remember seeing him sitting and crying at the roadside when we gave him the news, unable to talk, unable to function. As for me, the day I found out about Adial’s death was the very day that I was looking him up to reconnect after many years of separation (unintentional as it may – planes to catch, bills to pay, the usual). I cried involuntarily for the next few days whenever the thought of him crossed my mind.
Very recently a friend told me (and I paraphrase) – when the time comes, the space that you left behind is too huge and they feel it…I feel it too.
I never thought of it that way.
I started off this blogpost wanting to write about something else, but ended up writing about this instead. But I guess what I really wanted to say is the same thing.
There are many kinds of love. We recognize it immediately – the space that is left behind – that it is simply one of the many manifestations of that love. Adial would never know that there is a hole in my heart that keenly reminds me of his absence. My grandfather left not knowing that his younger brother would be so devastated he eventually succumbed to his grief. The one that I loved would probably never realize how I searched for that last sliver bravery to fill the space that he left behind.
(It couldn’t.)
And once, from a time that seemed so long ago, someone said this when asked about what happened to him in the decade past. Sitting by my knee, and half obscured by the darkness, he said I died. Though it wasn’t a physical death, it was no easier to bear. For a long time, it followed me around like my own inseparable shadow.
Over time the heart heals, grief lessens, sadness goes away. We know that. We have gone through it many times before, in varying degrees, in many forms, in many reincarnations. Love renews itself. Life renews itself. Humans are resilient that way. I say that again and again, thousands upon thousands of times before I sleep at night.
But what we are oblivious to is the space that we leave behind. We couldn’t fathom that this particular space, even if it occupies the tiniest corner in anyone’s heart, is irreplaceable, too.
So tenshi, I hope you know that whatever peace that is waiting for you on the other side, whatever salve that you believe will finally make you whole and complete, on this side, that space that you leave behind remains. And it too, will follow many in its wake, like invisible footsteps of a ghost.
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
p/s: Happy birthday John Lennon (9 October 1940 – 8 December 1980)
I had just finished my run. There was a taxi at the visitor’s carpark. Nothing unusual, except that I thought I knew the person that was leaning against the passenger-side door. Without my glasses I could never tell. I turned to cut my way across the carpark to enter my apartment from the side entrance when I heard my name being called.
I was right after all.
I took off my earphones and walked slowly towards the taxi. He paid the driver, said his thanks and waved the taxi off.
What a surprise, I told him. I’d hug you if I’m not sweating like a pig.
I called earlier today, he said apologetically, but it wasn’t answered. I wasn’t sure if you were in the country so I thought I’d just wait it out for a while. Your reception didn’t know if you were in town but she said you normally go out for a run at this hour.
I looked at the security person at the reception and waved. She waved back.
I had 26 missed calls today, I told him. One of those must be yours.
He just nodded. I asked if he wanted to have teh tarik. He said yes, so we walked to Restoran Syed.
I was in India, he told me. I called you to see if you wanted anything coz I flew back into town on Saturday but I couldn’t get through to you then either.
That made sense. Last Thursday I received several missed calls from India. I have been asking around to see if anyone I know was in India but no one owned up. Not even hairy Anoo. I didn’t think of him because it just didn’t occur to me that it could be him.
We talked about work and what we both have been up to. He told me I looked good, I told him that he looked good too. Politeness begets politeness. He asked about my running route. I told him I run depending on my mood and what was on my playlist. Some nights I run like a madman, some nights I sort of dance my way around PJ State. And nights like tonight, I was just walking and singing out loud.
Is that why you wear the long socks? he asked and jokingly kicked my legs under the table.
I laughed. Not really, I confessed, I just ran out of regular socks.
We chatted a while over shared tandoori chicken and garlic cheese naan. Nothing explosive or offensive. Just the regular, neutral topics. The weather. Raya season. Latest movies. I vented a little about the state of the music industry.
As I ordered another iced barley, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a velvet box. I got you this, he said. Don’t know if you’d like it.
He pushed the velvet box across the table.
I made the compulsory awww-you-shouldn’t-have face.
Didn’t your mom teach you not to buy girls any jewelry, I mock-reprimanded him. He laughed nervously.
It was a silver antique brooch. It was thoughtful. It was beautiful. It wasn’t him. I knew it right away. Someone told him to buy this. Coached him through it. Guilt can be a strong motivator. Unfortunately, I value a straight-up apology more than a trinket that was bought out of guilt. Not even his guilt, in fact. Which broke my heart all over again.
I actually skipped this song during my run today. I pressed next. A laughter bubbled inside me, the kind that was mixed with sadness, mirth and incredulity. But I said thank you instead. It’s beautiful, I told him, and I promise I won’t give it away to anyone.
We finished our supper and he walked me back to my apartment. I asked him where he was headed next, he said he was meeting someone, somewhere. I didn’t ask for further detail, he didn’t offer any.
I am leaving again on Wednesday, he explained. If I didn’t catch you just now I would have just left the gift at the reception. I just nodded in agreement.
We hugged goodbye. I went upstairs, showered and went about my nightly routines. An sms greeted me as I crawled into bed.
Are we okay?
I thought about what to write, then decided to simply answer it with yes.
I understood that the brooch was an apology.
(But no, we are not okay)
Looks like my long, sad summer is going to be just that bit longer than I thought.
