His middle name is Control Freak

The media is relentless in its reports of the financial crisis. Headlines of a looming recession are on every press and every news channel. Every single day and hour.

It does nothing but unsettle the common folks. And they actually try to take advantage of such uneasiness.

A meeting was called for in the early week. The main agenda was to address the imminent crisis and how we can hinder the possible decrease in sales.

Shortly into the meeting, the topic was steered towards some other mundane problems. They rattled on and on.

My patience was wearing thin since these problems did not concern me. I asked if I was needed in the meeting. You see, I had better things to do than listening to these thrashing out. My request to leave was being turned down however.

Two and a half hours later, we left the room with no concrete plans or solutions whatsoever to the anticipated problems on the agenda.

What a perfect waste of time.

One thing they did achieve though. To instil fear in us. So that we would work harder and longer in order to secure our jobs in the company. With a recession, retrenchment will be on the cards.

My young colleague was totally out of sorts and fidgeted during the rest of the day. Till she went to clarify with one of them if her job is safe. It is. She is assured.

Devious scheme, I call it. Instead of ensuring a sense of security in the company, they rather have us operating in fear and panic. Just so to generate results. These results, if any, will not be long-lasting, I am very certain. Because no one can perform productively for long under the dictationship of fear.

Shortsightedness? Oh yes, it is in abundance over here.

And then they went on to hire 2 new staffs.

I don't understand these people.

While dusting our crib

Saturday. A day which we sometimes allocate for dusting our crib.

Mr R was cleaning the glass coffee table with a clean rag. Afterwards, he proceeded to the store room with the rag and I didn't see him coming out with it.

Me asked pointly: Where is the rag you used to clean the table? You put it back???!!!
Mr R: Well, it's not as if it is very dirty...
Me: NOT VERY DIRTY??!!! Hello?? The table was dusty and fingerprints were all over! And you used detergent too! Please, put it away. Thank you very much.

I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes at him.

He often whines to friends that ever since I moved in, I repeatedly pick on his ways of housekeeping.

Please tell me how not to when his idea of keeping our pad neat and tidy is to bring a used rag back to the stack of clean ones. Now you see I have all the reasons to do so.

Men! You can never trust them to do a woman's job!

A special knack for language

In the midst of a telephone conversation with a Japanese one day:

Hoonie: Oh, by the way, I didn't get your name?
Japanese: I am Watanabe (pronounced as Wa-ta-na-bee and he went on to spell it for me).
Hoonie (subconsciously): Mr Wata-nabey... Okay, I will drop you an email and let's keep in touch, Mr Wata-nabey! Goodbye.

I burst out laughing after I hung up. How did I even manage to sound so crude in this neat language? I am such a bloody chow ah lian.

Living in a material world

I take comfort in my worldly possessions. Perhaps it's got to do with me being an earth sign who, at their worst, are highly materialistic. I am not ashamed to admit there is some truth in it. Well, let's face it, who isn't in this time and age?

I do not fear being labelled as shallow and superficial just because I pay more attention to my physical well-being and material things. The state of my intellectual and spiritual well-being is only reserved for close ones.

Anyhow.

I recently got hold of an item which I truly heart. Even though it's an unintended buy. Murphy's law came into play that day since the very thing I was searching high and low for was in nonexistence. Bloody typical.

Nonetheless, the newly acquired article makes up for it. Each peep of it fills me with great glee and I can't wait to put it on.

Clothes make the man.
Naked people have little or no influence on society.
- Mark Twain

Super Licence to race

The man is a huge avid fan of the Formula One race. If he can help it, he will try to catch each and every race which takes place. On TV, that is. Therefore, imagine his enthusiasm when he got wind last year that Singapore would be hosting the first ever F1 night race. He was over the moon!

I could tell his mind gears were turning when he came to me. Hardly able to conceal his excitement, he proposed to schedule our trip back to Singapore in September. In order for him to catch the race. To which I gladly obliged, knowing this is one of his dreams to be there physically and watch the race with the roars of the engines ringing in his ears.

However, as luck would have it, our trip was brought forward to May instead.

Nonetheless, that didn't dampen his excitement about today's race a wee bit. Already on Friday night, he was calling for me (while I was in another room) to watch the training with him, while gushing on about how cool the tracks, the lightings and the tunnel were.

Today, he made me sit down with him and watch the half-hour documentary on Singapore before the start of the race. Right in the midst of my housekeeping! I complied as I didn't want to be labelled as a wet blanket.

Though the documentary was nothing to shout about. It's more like a tourism effort to promote the sights and attractions of Singapore.

After which I promptly got back to my housechores while the man rooted himself in front of the TV screen for the next 4 hours.

I heard him curse when I was doing the ironing. It must have meant that McLaren didn't win the race. He is a faithful fan of the team although they have not won the championship for a long while now.

Despite the hiccups, he enjoyed the race thoroughly. And I am glad for him.

Corporate Culture

I was listening in a conversation between 2 colleagues. It was about some mundane topics. One was in the middle of recounting her experience on something while the other colleague simultaneously raised her voice slightly louder to drown out her colleague so that she could continue narrating her own story.

I frowned.

Though it is absolutely harmless in this instance, I find it extremely rude. Is it so difficult allowing the other person to finish her piece first before continuing with yours? Where are the manners?

What raises my eyebrow is this is not an isolated case in the workplace. It is in fact quite an everyday scenario. Somedays such dialogues go unnoticed while somedays we get to witness shouting matches between headstrong colleagues who won't budge at all. Quite akin to kindergarten children having a spat.

I wondered out aloud to the man and friends if this is the norm in german working culture. Apparently not.

Therefore, does it mean as long as their opinions are being put across and they have the last words, it means a battle won? Whatever happens to discussing work issues calmly and amicable like grown-ups? And be professional at that too?

Even simple work queries are answered in a hostile and sometimes aggressive manner.

Another colleague as old as me in this workplace has had enough and finally called it quits. In short, she was bullied for being slow to catch on.

Something is amiss here. Yet the management does nothing to discourage such behaviour. They simply stand aside and look on while the agressiveness festers like an ugly disease in this workplace.

I am determined not to let this evil disease catch me. If necessary, I will stand my ground and state my views but I refuse to bully and get bullied.

I fell flat

I cannot believe it! I got word that I flunked my geman exam. Only 4 of us made it. I thought I didn't do too well but to actually fail it??!! It came as a shock. Not only to me but to many others as well.

This is regardless that Goethe Institute modified the format of the exam completely and we were the first guinea pigs. No matter that this modified exam was much tougher as compared to the old one. Disregarding that my teacher literally told me before the exam I would make it.

Well, and I saw my teacher at the carpark today. Yet I didn't go up to her and say hi. I had no wish to do small talk and particularly discuss about the disappointing results.

The thought of re-taking it fills me with dread. And that won't happen anytime soon, as a matter of fact. Now that I work, I do not have the luxury of time to attend the course and make another go for it.

The man very sweetly comforted me, since I started work right before the exam, I naturally didn't have adequate time to prepare for it. Unlike my first exam which I took weeks to brace myself for.

Even so.

I am reeling with disappointment. And kicking myself for not taking the old exam last year. Because I thought I wasn't ready for it. Looking back now, I am certain I would be able to clear it without a glitch.

Too late now.

No Sick Food

I hate falling ill in Germany. Because like any typical Singaporeans, I need my sick food when I am unwell. The usuals like Kway Teow Soup, Porridge, Mee Tai Mak Soup, Macaroni Soup etc. Which are easy and soothing on your pharynx especially when you are suffering from a bad dry throat. These comfort food is easily available in our friendly neighbourhood coffee shops in Singapore. But most definitely not here in this ang moh land.

When one is poorly, with aching joints and low energy level, one has absolutely no desire to lift a finger to even brush one's teeth, let alone cook one's own sick food.

Apparently the Germans do not have any sorts of food which can be categorised as sick food. At least in terms of my classification. You will find rows and rows of Knorr and Maggie soup powder in the supermarket should you crave for soups. More often than not, they unsettle my stomach further in my unwell state.

My MIL does her own chicken noodle soup. The ang moh version, of course. But I find it a tad too oily and unnatural even on my dull palate. She adds spoonfuls of soup powder in it.

I make do with my plain porridge with whatever I can find in the fridge. Not that I can find much seeing that I hardly cook these days.

Fortunately, a pack of pork floss is lying somewhere in the cupboard. That will do for now.

Gear up!

I obtained my driving license on a second try. A tiff with the dear ex shortly after resulted in me, in a fit of spite, to forsake driving. That was at least 10 years ago.

Since then, I've only made one very reluctant and feeble attempt at driving. After much urging on from the close friends, that is. The spin turned out to be a horror instead. As I was negotiating a roundabout, a friend had to hold on to the steering wheel because I was about to lose control of the car. It was most terrifying. And that finally shut my dear friends up in their seats and in coaxing me to drive again.

And then I had recurring dreams in which I had to drive due to emergencies. Some of these rides felt like roller coaster rides. *Shudder*

I couldn't get away with not driving for long however. It has become essential for me to be behind the wheels once again. Since I am not a natural in this one, the only thing I can do to better my skills is to practise, practise and more practise.

I must confess. I am a total nervous wreck with millions of butterflies in my stomach before each drive. I am so bothered by my apprehension that I asked if indeed my driving skills sucked big time therefore I was always paralysed by fear.

According to the man, it took him months before he totally shedded his fear of driving. His male colleague, who has been driving for 15 years now, is still queasy whenever he drives to Stuttgart.

Alright, it is consoling to know I am not the only one out there. But that means my fear is here to stay for quite a bit.

And now my fears,
They come to me in threes.
- The Strokes

Sister Blister

I did chicken rice today. With help from Prima Taste of course. I find the chilli sauce which is included in the pack lacks the oomph-factor. But what is chicken rice without its famed chilli sauce? As usual, my mum's chilli was there to save the day.

Halfway through devouring the flavourful meal, my tongue, the inside of my mouth and my lips were stinging from the full force of the fiery spiciness. My nose was running uncontrollably. The hot soup didn't make it any better. With each sip of the soup, the nerves from my mouth to ears were on the verge of exploding. My senses were tingled all over with blistering tanginess. Damn shiok!!!

It may sound like a painful and sadistic ordeal. But for chilli fanatics, that wild burning sensation in their palates is one of the greatest fulfillment in terms of food orgasm. It is like a drug which means no turning back once we are hooked on it.

I daresay only my mum's drug is able to attain such sense of gratification in me and leave me scrambling for more.

With something else to look forward to the next day.

A burning ass.