Waking Up at 4am: Day 7

By morning, I couldn't move my neck and I went to work with pain. I knew I was in for a torrid time. On top of that my entire back was stiff. It was a long long day at work. I was in so much discomfort that I texted a random person I found on the internet doing massage service.

She charged $60 per hour. If you think that was exorbitant, she was already the cheapest around. Many of them ask for $70-80 an hour, plus an additional $20-$25 to come to your house. End up she was a young Japanese lady on Working Holiday Visa. She rode a scooter around despite winter. I read somewhere that little girls in Japan were already conditioned to the cold by wearing short skirt uniform. Despite my gut feel part of the practice was for perverted reasons, it seemed to work for that Japanese girl at least. Mindy told me she took a massage course for 3 months in Perth and began her work freelance. At $60 an hour, the scooter rider put many tough tradie bengs in their Ford Falcon to shame. No need for fancy utes, cool tool sets, 4 year apprenticeships or working under the fucking sun. Just massage oil and hands. I should quit my damn job and learn how to squeeze human flesh. Many of these trained healing hands operate in their own homes too. No shop rental to pay. No warehouse to upkeep. Maybe I could even go to China and get ATBs to pay me for IELTS lessons then apply 457 for them to work for me.

Despite going through the motions, the boys and I managed to finish a sizable amount of work. Supplies were still streaming in and I wondered what would the boss say when he saw our wage bill if we continue our overtime through the following week. One thing for sure, we were not going to work during the coming weekend. Not even if they pay triple. Well, unless they were paying me Lee Hsien Loong's rates. But again, on that kind of pay scale, there was no need to do overtime because there was virtually no living needs left to buy. So you could understand why higher mortals just couldn't understand why peasants prefer to retire and not appreciate their hard work of creating jobs openings for the elderly. Have money also don't want to earn, then complain no money and want to take CPF that wasn't there. My good friend used to tell me how hard a Singapore minister's life can be. Jam packed schedules, including weekends and public holidays. And I agree losing one's privacy can be sorrowful, you can't pick your nose in public and what can be worse than that? One can even compare a minister's job to a prostitute - get fucked for 10-15 years and retire gloriously. We have to consider for a moment while the prostitute buy houses in her homeland and our minister buy islands elsewhere, what can the average Singaporean do after working 15 years? We should be happy enough to remain employed. For the less fortunate ones who needs to tide over more difficult times, can you blame them for asking for their CPF, their own money?

Maybe, just maybe I should come back to work this weekend to make hay when the sun still shines. I'm not pessimistic, just realistic. Australia life has been amazingly great for me so far but I am under no illusion that this can last forever. Anyone who guarantee you this sort of thing with conviction is nothing but a fool. You heard the term, "100% safe," often enough. We should make condom manufacturers insure us against being fathers if we use their products but no - not even these guys claimed their products to be "100% safe." So when some shaggy maggy guy quoted only to be misquoted to having assure me that my money is "100% safe", my balls shrank and wrinkled up like a raisin for a week.

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