So here I am, close to two weeks after my last receipt of verbal confirmation regarding a potential hire, waiting patiently for the country's central bank to 'touch base' with me again. Frankly, it's a tad bit worrying. I chalk it up to past months of pent-up paranoia regarding future prospects. Ah well - aside from placing yet another call to pester their HR, there's nothing I can really do about it.
On a sidenote, I did in the end receive an offer from our local state finance body. That, at least, has buoyed my sentiments - even if I did turn it down in the end. The role seems pretty challenging, and the people appear friendly. The level of international exposure and value-add in terms of personal career growth, however, lag significantly behind what I would garner while working in central banking. But still, it's a good thing. I cannot express how big a sigh of relief I vented when I received word about a job offer after so many friggin' months of waiting and rejection.
Meanwhile - I guess I'll be looking forward to (hopefully) a call from the MTI regarding my application for their trade division. Moreover, all this interim waiting has also spurred me to apply for that political risk analysis post I wrote about earlier - might as well right, seeing as to how I'm spending my days running errands and mugging.
(Yes, mugging. A chao mugger's work is never finished. I just wrapped up Animal Spirits by George Akerlof and Robert Shiller - a revamped approach to Keynesian thought, market psychology and crisis handling. I'm halfway through When Genius Failed, which details the long and short of the Long Term Capital Management saga. Naturally, I recognize that this is once again my buay hiao bai intellectual ego rearing its ugly, bespectacled head - who really gives a shit what these bloody books are about, right not?)
T'was Kenneth Phua's birthday a few days back. Although I didn't attend the event (if you could call a clubbing session at Butter an 'event'), the aftermath pretty much speaks for itself. Phua CB has absolutely no recollection of the fateful 28th November evening, save for entering Butter. He probably made out with his 'casual friend'
Mr AMK wishes for some Wang Qing Shui (Water of Forgetfulness) - File Photo
This is, of course, purely my speculation. But its calculated speculation once one factors in the sheer number of times the two have (tongue) tangoed whilst sloshed and inundated with bass. For instance, I will never forget how three-or-so years back those two made out like bandits on the Phuture dance floor. Make out already still must arch forward, arch backward, arch forward again. Wah lan eh. Like a palm tree in the face of Hurricane Katrina - sway like crazy but macam don't give a fuck. And this was in front of her then-boyfriend or dunno-what-relation-guy somemore. Ex-boyfriend zero, Phuamanda ten thousand points.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think that's a nice way to put it. 'Phuamanda' - or maybe 'Phuamandina'. Like Niall Ferguson's catchy wordplay to describe Sino-American economic interdependence, Chimerica. Or Zachary Karabell's Superfusion (again, China and America).
Phuamandina. It's a bit like Romeo and Juliet, if you think about it. Admittedly, there's none of the tenderness and affection that one would associate with a soppy love story. The partying/drunkenness/streets-of-rage action scenes are way, wayy overdone. First dibs on a bottle of poison don't necessarily belong to Romeo, but to whomever is feeling the most generous. Everyone drinks. And any instances of feeling star-crossed only occur the morning after. But the moral of the story - and if I may sneak in a cheap shot at Kenneth here - is that no matter how many times the story plays out in different places and at different times, no matter how many iterations the tale is spun, the couple never get to, shall we say... consummate their, um, love.
*: See Central 6 blog history for details.
1 comment:
HAHAHA OH MY GOD THAT PICTURE IS TOO BLOODY FUNNY!!!!!!!!! & your Hurricane Katrina remark LOLOLOL WTF MAN!!! I can't stop lol-ing.
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