It used to be
that you were a success in life if you had the 5 Cs – career, car, condo,
country club membership and cash. Of course, if you ask someone like my mother,
she’ll tell you the 5 Cs are just a subset of the Big 4 Careers – doctor,
lawyer, engineer, and chartered accountant. If you’re in one of these four
professions, then the 5 C’s are natural consequences.
“Chartered
accountant,” Mother would tell us. “It has to be chartered, otherwise you’re
just an ordinary bookkeeper!” she
added in a tone that indicated that you might as well be sweeping the streets.
“Is there a word for when you’re
prejudiced against someone because of the job that they have?” my sister once
wondered.
“Yes, it’s ‘mother’!” my brother Jack piped up. The quip entertained us for a
full week.
These days, the whole idea of
getting a job that will give you these 5 Cs is just so last century.
Expectations have changed. And why not? When talentless nobodies from Kampong
Ulu can pop up out of nowhere, without coming within sniffing distance of an
actual performance arts school, and become celebrity artistes and earn pots of
money hawking abalone and dieting pills to gullible housewives, you have to
wonder if there’s any point in even graduating.
If you really think about it, the
people making the most money these days are the ones who, at school, you used
to sniff at as odd balls and who couldn’t possibly amount to anything. Look at
Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. What are the odds that when they were kids, they
spent all recess and lunchtime playing chess, or Dungeons and Dragons?
And when you read that even bankers in the UK are
getting their bonuses cut, you can’t help but wonder just what kind of drugs
your parents must have been mainlining when they insisted that you learnt your
algebra and valence tables.
As Jack, who consistently got straight A’s in
maths, pointed out recently, “I’ve literally never had to use a quadratic
equation to solve anything in my entire life. That was a complete waste of
three months of my life learning that crap, wasn’t it?”
And as you get older, the resentment about the
wasted opportunities only grows.
“I wish my parents had sent me to
tennis camp,” Saffy said the other day as she watched the Australian Open.
“Who’s playing?” Amanda asked, sitting down on the
sofa next to her.
“I have no idea. Some nobody from an Eastern
European country with an unpronounceable name and someone with an equally
unpronounceable name from who knows where.” Saffy sighed. “But can you believe
that last year, they didn’t win a single tournament, and yet they each earned
$500,000! It’s ridiculous!”
Amanda was impressed. “Really? God, we should have
taken tennis lessons!”
Saffy’s bosom inflated. “That’s what I’m saying!
It’s infuriating!”
They watched the match in silence, the air pregnant
with possibilities and unrealisable dreams.
Eventually, Saffy said, “I was just thinking this
morning that it would be so fabulous if somebody did a reality TV show about
us! Don’t you think?”
Amanda blinked. “What’s so interesting about us? We
lead such boring lives. Nothing happens!”
Saffy’s bosom thrust out in 3D. “Are you kidding
me? With a bit of heavy editing and fast cuts, it would be a ratings
blockbuster! I mean, look at us! I’m hot, you’re hot, Jason’s…not, but we’re hot!” Saffy sat up, her eyes
shining. “Between your dating issues and my horrible boss, there’s already so
much material. My God, my chronic constipation alone could take up an entire
episode!”
When Sharyn heard about it, her glasses fogged up.
“Ay, can I be in it too?”
“Sharyn,” Saffy said kindly, “nobody wants to watch
the life of a married woman with two kids. Especially when she’s married to a
man who walks around all day in shorts and a torn Crocodile singlet.”
“Where got?” Sharyn protested weakly.
“No,” Saffy said firmly. “Our show is all about the
exciting lives of singletons living the high life in Singapore! With a
supporting cast of gorgeous French and pan-Asian models!”
Sharyn looked doubtful. “We’re sitting at Chomp
Chomp on a Friday night eating grill sting ray. This is consider high life,
meh?”
“It’s amazing what they can do with editing, these
days,” Saffy said with authority. “I really don’t see why those Kardashians
should get all the limelight. My life
is just as glamorous!”
Doubt still etched Sharyn’s forehead. “But they
live in Hollywood, you live in Toa Payoh…”
“Oh shut up, Sharyn! Who died and made you Simon
Cowell?”
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