Kinder Surprise Thursday

Two Thursdays ago I had what I’d consider an exceptionally happy day.

It started off in the morning at a job interview in town.

Following my lazy-ass whinge, Lady Luck apparently decided that her earplugs weren’t soundproof enough. A headhunter was despatched, armed with a job description so fitting it practically flashed cleavage as it tapped me on the shoulder and fell upon my lap.

It was the best interview I’d ever had because an hour and a half later, the interviewer couldn’t have been more clear about how I didn’t fit the type he wanted.

He was looking for a specialist, someone who’s been living, breathing and getting off on securities laws for the bulk of his/her career. Someone who could run with, not behind, him. And have staying power.

I have commitment issues. I’m in my 5th job in 7 ½ years. I’d more likely stroll off the path in a different direction, what more beside him.

But in spite of having rolled and rolled and gathered by conventional standards no moss (strange that the accumulation of skill/experience should be complimented in terms of fungal bloom), I must however have acquired skills good enough at each turn to be handsomely rewarded.

Boys and girls, if you’re going to have a rolling-stone resume, make sure your bonus record supports the idea that you were a champ of such awesome capabilities that it was your employer’s loss when you left. It gives you credibility. And the balls to outright declare I’m worth it in the same manner as Sean Connery would say - shaken, not shtirred.

That kept them interested.

As clockwork as how the fish dish signals the point in a wedding dinner where the bride changes into her more comfortable gown, that evergreen interview question was unleashed. Where do you see yourself in five years’?

Which is when this interview turned out to be a highly rewarding Kinder Surprise.

I knew the right answer – I hope to be able to have achieved the same successes that you have. Cue ass-kissing, winning smile.

But I chose instead to give the wrong one.

Honestly, I don’t know. Who can, really?
Cue game-over smile.

He asked if I would be interested in a position in the Compliance unit (I guess that's where they put the non-ambitious people?), as opposed to Legal.

In the few seconds it took me to consider, the Kinder split.

Surprise.

Like haiku, it came.

Clear though the mind speaks
Your heart – in silence observes.
The cube is its cage.

I make a lousy employee because I am, at heart, a consultant. Give me a problem, I’ll give you a big-picture solution. My control freak nature compels me also to tell you what concerns you need to address at micro level.

Just don’t ask me to micro-manage or set out detailed procedures. Don’t ask me either to revisit a file/issue/matter over and over and do the hamster-wheel jog of joyous repetition.

Don’t expect me to participate in office morale-&-camaraderie-building, hand-holding kumbayas.

Audit is my kryptonite. Rules and procedures, my Ritalin.

The cubicle is my cage.


I am so in the wrong line. Every month it’s the same thing. Check check check, pass.

It was almost impossible to continue; my heart was waxing Japanese poetry and the disturbing enormity of Mr. CouldabeenmyBoss’s head had become quite distracting.

So. It’s always nice to be able to close my folder, re-cap my pen and think moving right along… before the interviewer even begins to wind up the session.


I had enough left of the morning to put my car in for a service. Yay!

Driving to the service station, the epiphany continued.

The question I hate most in job interviews is -

“What are the highlights of your performance in each job?”

It’s a question I have never answered, until that morning, without copious shovels-full of bullshit. The fact of the matter is that I don’t consider anything to have been of an especially big deal. Now that’s a problematic answer because it gives the interviewer the impression that I don’t bring much to the table.

That’s where the bonus record again saves the day. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, I clearly must have done something right by my employer’s standards.

In the past I’ve been able to muster up enough shake in my dusty pompoms. But this cheerleader is now ready to give you an R!
And an E!
Oh look what the rest spell - TIRED .

Somewhere along Jalan Tun Razak the message that my heart had been SOS-ing finally crystalised in my mind. The reason why I don’t think my work performance is any big deal is because I just don’t have the heart for it. It may be good enough for my employers, but it doesn’t make me happy.

Doncha just love epiphanies? Like Kinder Surprises and haiku - we need more of these little capsules of clarity and simple joy in our lives.

So there you go.


That’s why when I migrate to Australia, I’m going to find a job as a cook’s assistant in a small diner/café. Maybe some temp-ing for family law practices. Go back to uni and do research on medical ethics or criminology or maybe an undergraduate degree in sociology.

I’d like to spend my 40s on a small farm (no livestock please, they’re stinky) in a two-bedroom house with a bright airy study and massive kitchen. Mediterranean weather, golden afternoons on a small porch, coffee, croissants and the papers for breakfast. Cool nights under an endless blanket of stars. Superfast, wireless Internet connection so that I can passively participate in non-face-to-face discourse. A diesel-efficient compact car (VW Golf rocks!). A 20-minute drive from civilisation.

I simply remember my favourite things…and then I won’t feel so bad.


Anyway, back to that Thursday.

Got my car serviced

Managed to rayu the RM100 parking fine down to RM30 by demonstrating a complete lack of shame at the MMPJ with my unnaturally sweet and fluffy bunny disposition

Confirmed that the MMPJ hasn’t yet threatened to confiscate my apartment despite my property assessment being two years overdue.

Super yay day or what? All by mid-afternoon. It just got better and better.

The royal icing on the cake? I spent the rest of the day up till 11pm with one of my favourite people in the whole wide world.

Oh…of course Snowie was there too.


My friend Tigerlily was back from Sydney with her husband and two children, one of whom is just 6 months’ old. Is it possible to top the pleasure of catching up with your favourite person after over a year?

Can the joy of an already yummy Kinder chocolate be outshone by its Surprise?

Yes.

OMAGAWD da baby!!!

Vulture-like (minus the bangkai-eating image. Think slightly less covetous but kindly aunty), I hung over her pram. What a beautiful, sweet-natured bundle of twinkly-eyed chubby cuteness. You should have seen me carrying her all over One-Utama, showing off. Heh.

We had waffles, went pretty dress shopping (Flower Girl in the connecting section between old and new Utama) for the baby, shoe shopping for her handsome brother, had dinner. I literally caught the baby’s puke before it hit the dress she was amiably modelling at Flower Girl. Snowie got chucked on later when the baby decided that half-digested pulped carrots would make a comfy cushion between her and Snowie’s chest.

It was without doubt, an exceptionally good day.