The Wise Old Owl
There must be a reson why we are given two ears and one mouth. If only we use them proportionally, i.e. talk less and listen more. Might there be not less misunderstanding in this world?
A wise old owl sat on an oak.
The more he heard the less he spoke;
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why aren't we all like that wise old bird?
The Affectionate Hound
Single or double-storey terrace houses characteristically bound the precincts of Chapel Close, Joo Chiat Rd/ Lane and Koon Seng Rd with narrow lanes separating them. This is a gazetted area where no high-rise is allowed and hence the en-bloc sale of the walk-up apartment I was living in never materialized.
Recently, when I revisited the locality I formerly lived at, I was literally taking a walk down memory lane. Instead of taking the main road, it is not unusual for residents living here to take short-cuts through any of those back alleys to get to their abode.
I had agreed to drop in on my old neighbour who, having sold his flat, would be moving out. To get to his place from the main road, there was no reason why I shouldn’t do what I had customarily done, i.e. I took a short cut through the maze of 5-foot like back lanes.
I had barely set foot on one end of one of the alleys when what appeared to be dog-like form at the other end broke into a run, apparently having caught sight of me. Whatever that creature was in the engulfing hazy twilight, I had only a few seconds to hazard a decision whether to hold my ground or flee. To flee would trigger more strongly the animal’s instinct to give chase and so I squatted as if to pick up an object to throw at the animal. That was when I noticed the canine was wagging it tail.
It's body language was a relief to me as great a rescue ship would be in a stormy sea.
To my amazement, the dog raised itself and placed it front paws on my chest. I wasn't taken aback by its action and responded by gently stroking his forehead. The animal rolled back its ears in acknowledgement and wagged its tail even more vigorously.
I asked myself now what I must do to get myself out of that situation. I couldn’t possibly be patting the dog on and on. Before long, another dog was sighted in a distance strolling nonchalantly up the alley towards us. Apparently more mature, it walked past us and then turned her head to steal a glance at me. For that brief moment, a lump formed in my throat not knowing what to expect from that glance. There certainly hadn't been any welcome gesture from her.
Fortunately for me, she continued her way. Seeing that, the other dog disengaged itself and went in the same direction.
The encounter raised interesting questions on animal behaviour. Why was the dog amicable to a stranger as if unable to discern between its master and a stranger. (It certainly can't be a good watchdog). Could it have been deprived of affection by its owner? Was affection all it wanted?
So much for The (affectionate) Hound of the Baskerville.
The Wisdom of Solomon
It is better to settle disputes amicably without resorting to lawsuits. You can never be certain of the outcome bringing matters to court but you can be certain of legal expenses
As two men were walking by the seaside at low tide they saw an oyster and they both stooped together at the same time to pick it up. One pulled the other away and a dispute ensued.
A traveler was coming at the same time, and they determined to ask him which of the two had the better right to the oyster.
While each was telling his story, the traveler gravely took out his knife, opened the shell, and loosened the oyster. When they had finished and were listening for his decision, he just as gravely swallowed the oyster, and offered them each a shell.
“The Court,” said he, “awards you each a shell! The oyster will cover the costs.”
A Portrait of Laughter
It was a song. A mere song belting out from a neighborhood shop I was walking past.
“
wooo,, I hear laughter in the rain walking down hand in hand with the one I love…”. With such a unisex singing voice, it was unmistakably Neil
Sedaka.
For good measure, I located this song
on U-tube and I must say it has a catchy beat to it.
Laughter in the rain is a delinquent indulgence but laughter in the office is a different thing entirely. And when you examine the truth behind it, it can be scary.
How much do you laugh at work? You may say not much since work is not particularly funny. But if there is a way to measure how often you laugh in the office, you might be surprised because we laugh a lot more than we think we do. Laughter at work has no association with being amusing, with joking or fun of any sort. It is an extension of office politics and the stroking order.
If a
COE or president on an official visit were to make the feeblest pleasantry, it evokes convulses from everyone near and far within hearing distance. We are not even remotely amused yet we laugh out of nervousness. He is a powerful figure within the organization.
A newly appointed
COE had the bright ides of breaking ice with his subordinates and suggested everyone should tell a joke after a meal. Far from being a cheery bonding session, it created more ice only this time frizzier and the occasion turned out to be an evening of the unbearable lightness of being. As you can expect, some jokes got big laughs and some fell flat. As a rule of the thumb, if people listen to you and laugh at your jokes, you’re getting somewhere. If not, then you’re not.
In conclusion, laughter is part of office politics. It happens everywhere and every day. Will you not laugh without thinking when you boss makes a joke? Never mind how silly the supposed joke is. It is no coincidence that the more senior he is, the greater your he-ha-he-ha. It shows that you understand the system, never mind the
hypocrisy of laughter.
Fish or Cat?
This Arab tale reminds us that honesty is the best policy , if for no reason other than that truth has a way of revealing itself.
Fish
or Cat?
A man went at sunrise to his favourite spot on the river , cast his line, and pulled in a fat, shining fish. It weighted exactly six pounds.
He told it home and proundly showed it to his wife.
"Prettiest fish I ever caught." he said. "Six pounds of pure pleasure. I'll cook a grand feast tonight." Then he left the house and went to work.
His wife could not take her eyes off the fish. It made them water, it looked so tempting. At last she couldn't stand it any longer. She cooked it and sent for her brother, and they gorged themselves until there wasn't a morsel left.
That evening the man came home to find no fish.
"I'm so sorry," his wife cried, but while I was in the garden the cat got into the kitcehn and ate the whole thing from head to tail!"
The man seized the cat and plopped it on a scale. It weighted exactly six pounds.
"If this is my fish, then where is the cat?" he asked. "And if this is the cat, then I wonder just where my fish might be."
It's body language was a relief to me as great a rescue ship would be in a stormy sea.
