Party in the PRC

Before Chinese New Year, all the restaurants are booked up, busily serving ten course meals, wine and tired smiles to employees who get to party on company dime.

It's becoming a booming industry across China too. Employees of big corporations are starting to hire professionals for scripts and acting coaching to perfect their company plays. The local radio plays success testimonials from individuals who transform themselves from what's-your-name-again to you-did-that-cool-magic-trick-come-with-me-to-a-sales-call by creating a career-launching impression on their bosses at the annual party.

At our little startup, we don't face that kind of pressure, but we still bring our A game to the celebration.

Girls clock out on average two hours earlier than the guys. 

And yes, top left corner is our resident part-time model slash receptionist. 

You need a gorgeous MC when there's a five hour program.

Magic shows. 

Never quite understood the significance of a piece of unbroken string.

We dress up quite a bit for company parties.

And somehow, I find all my costumes just by rummaging through my closet. 

That's why I don't have a fashion blog. 

That's my beau in the play.

And she's wearing two rolled up napkins and a paper crown while wooing me Gangnam style.

I'm telling you. It takes a lot to impress me.

Three of the performances involve transforming a man into a woman.

. . . and we're not even in Thailand.

This is the moment when my boss announces a 10% raise for everybody.

Best indication that our startup is doing fantastic.

I'm celebrating by planning a trip to SE Asia in April. 

 Somehow nobody else interprets "act crazy" as choking your team member. 

And this is the one sent to all the investors.

It's all about making an impression right?

Occupational Hazards

The thing about being an adult is that you get to take business trips. The thing about being a kid still is that you can gush about your first business trip where you actually fly somewhere (ok Mexico City was a different type of business trip, but still). And nothing is better than flying back to your childhood home.

There are so many more friends I need to see. 

These people know all about the obnoxious seventh grade me. 

And yet, they still like me.

Skyscrapers are so cold and yet so beautiful. 

Somehow eating oysters always make me feel like a King.

And when tapas are involved, just call me Juan Carlos the First.

One of the client factories is in Shen Zhen, a neighboring city linking HK with the Mainland. Despite being so close to HK and known for best fake copies of anything in China, I've only been there once before. I was sufficiently traumatized by my five hours in SZ back in high school. HK-ers have a collective distrust/fear/loathing for SZ. Growing up, whenever I refused to eat my food, the lady taking care of me would threaten to dump me in SZ. A friend was sitting in a cab, when a wild-eyed teenager forcibly opened the door, grabbed her designer purse, and ran off. My mom even heard that someone's secretary, pretty wisp of a girl, disappeared after going into a public bathroom. 

Regardless, I needed to make the sale so I woke up super early, hopped on a train across the border, and started eyeing everybody suspiciously, ready to jab my elbows into anybody's sensitive areas if needed. I locked all my taxi doors. I clutched my ipad tightly. And I texted my boss that it had been a pleasure working with him and that he shouldn't feel too bad in the event that I was never seen alive again. 

I don't have any nice photos of SZ to share. My HK prejudice is alive and well. But I must admit that SZ has changed a lot in the last ten years. I'm almost curious to go back and explore more, which is good because it sounds like I'll be spending a lot of time there in the future. I guess that's what happens when you made the sale. Maybe I should have thought it through before I tried so hard. 

Spamming My Uterus

Exactly 39 minutes after I posted my whiny blog post comparing wisdom teeth pains to period pains, I got this email:

"Hi Sisi,

Pls complete the additional Questionairs [sic] form that related to your menstruation pain. and letter of consent - Clinic and address to ask for your history on the consultation of menstruation pain.

Pls sign at "X" and email me back.

Thank you.

Warmest Regards,

XXX
AIA Singapore"

There was even an attached Gynaecological Disorders Questionnaire with some rows filled in for me already.

The diagnosis? Menstruation Pain (written in all caps).

This was an application for life insurance.

This type of targeted marketing definitely beats annoying Google ads on the sidebars of your email.

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Oh and btw. That email was not for me. I wrote them back and told them that they had the wrong Sisi, and that from one Sisi to another, I hope she will feel better because periods do suck.

I wish they passed on my sympathies.