Two Sundays ago, after church, at one of the high-traffic escalators in busy busy Suntec City, I came across an ex-colleague from my newspaper years (1986-89). We remember each other well, spoke for a few minutes, exchanged contacts and agreed to stay in touch.
A few days later, I followed up with an email, suggesting "kopi or teh?" because I wanted to find out more about her part-time job, getting paid to edit travel stories.
She replied today, suggesting a time, a day and a place to meet.
Her opening remark though made me think and "blog": "Hi Eng Hai, real glad to hear from you. I thought it is one of those where the hi and goodbye ended at Suntec ..."
We do live in a "Hi and Bye" world, where we often talk about catching up over lunch or coffee but almost just as often fail to do so.
I'm sure the failure to follow up with those lunches we often talk about on the fly is not for lack of sincerity. Most likely, it is due to a disease (read dis-ease) of a lack of time - often real, but sometimes imagined, in which case, the fundamental issue may simply be a clash of priorities, where non-core relationships get neglected. That, refers to most relationships with the thousands of people each of us know.
I must admit that if not for the business that I do, I would likely suffer from the same disease too. It wasn't that many years ago that I was living and operating under the "hi and bye" syndrome.
So, am I glad that I am in the business of meeting people ... finding out as much as I can, and as they'd let me, about them; then helping them get whatever it is that they're looking for - either by suggestion, connection or action; and where I discover a good fit between what they're looking for and what I have to offer personally, well, I'll make them an offer and invite them to consider.
Only yesterday, I was at it again - going beyond hi and bye. After a catch-up lunch with one of my business partners in the financial district, I walked past two familiar faces seated at a sidewalk cafe. In the past, I'd have taken a mental note and walked on. Yesterday, I turned back, said hello, and took a seat in between them when invited to do so.
One of them asked if I have time for a chat. I said, "Sure, I'm my own boss, working at my own time and for my own target." And she said: "How nice. We're still only employees, working according to other people's time and targets...." Incidentaly, these two happen to be friends from my journalist days too.
Later, after a good chat, finding out the latest from each other - from work to family, ane exchanging contact cards, we shook hands, parted company and on the way to the MRT, I was tapped on the shoulder by somebody whom I had said hi and bye to only last week - but only because she was coming out of the train to go to work, and I was stepping in to go somewhere else.
This time, I offered to walk her back to her office, and she agreed. We enjoyed a good long chat. She's just happily become a grandmother, enjoying the newborn grandson in Sydney from afar, with the powers of the Internet - at least until she visits in September. At 59, having wrestled with the troubles of being diabetic for years, and living with a husband who stopped working years ago because of mental depression, she's philosophical about life, talking nonchalantly about death and disease. She's working 5-hour workdays because she needs the money for her modest lifestyle and her second mortgage. I've known this charming, energetic lady since my newspaper days too, when she was a valuable news source, and I a rookie reporter out to make a name for myself in the world. I was even happier to listen to her yesterday, in our new capacities, until in the end, she had to excuse herself. "Hey, I better run, or we'd go on and on."
It feels real good to have the time for people, to really hear them out, especially in a world where people are generally too busy for each other, and have little time beyond the hi's and the bye's. It feels even better to know that eventually, I will get paid for that ability to listen to people, for that is now my vocation, my lifestyle, for life.
Back to the ex-colleague whom I met at the Suntec City escalator. I look forward to meeting her because in her brief email, I get that she's looking for advice and I may be able to make a contribution.
"Maybe you can help me plan my retirement with the pittance I am getting each month. I need to save up to book myself into an old folks home!"
In my reply, I said: "Perhaps, when we meet, I can really help you with your retirement planning. I believe we can do better than prepare to end up in an old folks' home, unless that's what you really want ;-> See you next week!"
1 comment:
"When a person gives you money, you just get his money. But when he gives you his time, you're actually getting a part of his life. Value that."
I picked this out from the papers this morning, from an interview with 57-year-old Singapore poet-academic Kirpal Singh,who was recounting a profound point he picked out earlier from an American singer, Wayne Newton.
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