Tuesday, January 11, 2005
I seriously detest waiting for the phone to ring. It never does. Even after I've Taken The Initiative and called people up.
I hate this interminable waiting game. I wish that they can just get on with it and give me an outright rejection instead of subjecting me to days of torment in frictional unemployment limbo.
But unfortunately that's the way the world
works. I had an interview with this slightly
beng guy who runs a tuition centre in Jurong East. He was a deceptively easy-going fellow with a very relaxed way with words, but stone-cold pragmatic underneath all that. He told me that contrary to what teachers' encouraging comments in progress reports may say, the world is not such an easy place to navigate, even if armed with an impressive array of certificates. Of course, I agreed.
Reality really can be quite a disappointment, and sometimes, it pays to be cynical. For example, I had to lie about my address to even be granted an interview - they had good, practical reasons for not considering applicants living too far away, but I was kind of desperate. (I was honest about everything else, though.) I used to think that I was cynical, but now it turns out that I wasn't nearly cynical enough - not by a long stretch. I still have much to learn about not being such an earnest, naive fool. According to a travel guide I read, in China, waiting dutifully in line doesn't get you anywhere - you have to shove your way to the front of the queue. I can feel myself growing jaded already, and it's only been - what? - 2 weeks?
An unpleasant family incident last night reminded me of just how foolish and naive I am. To summarise, my mother accidentally damaged a very cherished pair of earphones belonging to my sister and myself. When she heard that it was relatively expensive equipment (we appreciate quality sound, a well-rounded bass etc.), she flatly refused to buy a replacement, or even to sponsor a fraction of the cost, maintaining that it was an 'accident' so it was not her 'fault', and anyway, it was our fault for even buying such a needlessly expensive thing in the first place.
That extraordinary line of reasoning was aggravating, to say the least. Then I asked my sister if she would bear the full cost of replacing something that she had unwittingly damaged. Her answer: depends on the cost, depends on how much money she has... maybe 50%?
I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. However, 'responsibility' is a word with positive connotations - the sign of a good worker, a competent leader, a constructive team-player. However, in my case, I think it could more accurately be described as an unhealthy overcapacity for guilt.
In Secondary 3, I was charged with collecting class payments for the Biology TYS. I had this dangerously large sum of money in an envelope which I stupidly left on my desk for a short while. As could be expected, it went missing. I believed that it was my fault and seriously considered compensating the full amount myself. I was prepared to keep mum, quietly replace the stolen money and pretend that nothing had happened. Fortunately, because I was semi-hysterical then and couldn't conceal the facts well, my plan didn't work: my dear friends caught on quickly and reported the theft, even as I was begging them not to. (I was a silly girl in those days, terrified at the prospect of humiliation and blame.) The incident ended reasonably well - the class was sympathetic and generous (which made me even more embarrassed) and the culprit was eventually exposed (a long story... let's just say it didn't lack drama).
(RG life was rarely dull. Thinking about it now - even if I don't remember all of it - gives me a deep sense of nostalgia
and leaves me feeling faintly ridiculous. The things we got up to in those days! Now I feel insufferably old and boring.)
Yes, so - guilt. Or responsibility. Either way, I'm just too square for my own good. And yes, if I had been the one responsible for the earphones, I would have shelled out the money without protest.
words were spilled on Tuesday, January 11, 2005
