The Purpose of Life is a Life of Purpose
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
I Can Never Win an Argument with You, Adila!
Apart from ranting about the ups and downs of my job, I hardly write about work in this blog.
This entry is an exception, documenting my laments on my new reporting line and my choice of working has resulted in an unbalanced work life.
Reason being, the organization structure of the department where I serve as a Head, has been approved.
In case you all wonder, I am a misplaced Head of Department reporting to an EVP. In this company where I work, that is no 2. There is the President, and four EVPs and I report to one of them.
Why misplaced? Because I always feel that I am a low life creature in this Fortune 500 corporation and much as I do realize the importance of this department's role in the overall scheme of things, I find reporting to an EVP errrr.....shall I say, unnerving?
But life goes on, as they always say. I find reporting to an EVP not too be a bad proposition after all. The perspectives of an EVP has been invaluable to me in shaping the way I think about the departmental role in protecting the organization's balance sheet. I feel like I am developing as an individual in my reporting to him and that's important I think at this stage of my career.
Therefore, at his directive, the functions of credit and trading risk management was transferred to us necessitating a re-look at our organization structure. Coupled with organizational trends in risk management, and fulfilling our roles as a financial risk management function for the Group, we came up with a new structure, aligning our risk management responsibilities into two main portfolios.
The tough part was the sell to this EVP creature. Explanation as to why we structured ourselves this way, why we need that many people, what these positions are supposed to do, and him telling me he has "elephant memory" and that I was supposed to cut positions, not add....let's say I was persistent and honest on the workload that is required and why the right organization structure is very critical for us to fulfill our roles!
After all that, my boss said...."I can never win an argument with you Adila! Oklah!"
And that was it!!! From a humble beginning in 2004 where we started with a team of 4 (myself included), we are now a reasonably sized team of 20 positions.
Post Exco yesterday, the HR account manager (who happens to be my senior in MRSM) texted me and said, "Organization structure approved, Alhamdulillah!"
An achievement that could not have happened without the support of my direct reports, who had to tolerate my moods, my discontent on many, many aspects of the preparation work, not to mention frequently changing my mind.
And Kak Nat and Ali, who have been relentless in managing the paperwork and approvals process.
And my husband, who have been tolerating my late hours and except for a few complaints has hardly said a word on my work hours. And my kids at home, who does not have an inkling that Mama's drive to do all of this is because of all four of you.
This entry is an exception, documenting my laments on my new reporting line and my choice of working has resulted in an unbalanced work life.
Reason being, the organization structure of the department where I serve as a Head, has been approved.
In case you all wonder, I am a misplaced Head of Department reporting to an EVP. In this company where I work, that is no 2. There is the President, and four EVPs and I report to one of them.
Why misplaced? Because I always feel that I am a low life creature in this Fortune 500 corporation and much as I do realize the importance of this department's role in the overall scheme of things, I find reporting to an EVP errrr.....shall I say, unnerving?
But life goes on, as they always say. I find reporting to an EVP not too be a bad proposition after all. The perspectives of an EVP has been invaluable to me in shaping the way I think about the departmental role in protecting the organization's balance sheet. I feel like I am developing as an individual in my reporting to him and that's important I think at this stage of my career.
Therefore, at his directive, the functions of credit and trading risk management was transferred to us necessitating a re-look at our organization structure. Coupled with organizational trends in risk management, and fulfilling our roles as a financial risk management function for the Group, we came up with a new structure, aligning our risk management responsibilities into two main portfolios.
The tough part was the sell to this EVP creature. Explanation as to why we structured ourselves this way, why we need that many people, what these positions are supposed to do, and him telling me he has "elephant memory" and that I was supposed to cut positions, not add....let's say I was persistent and honest on the workload that is required and why the right organization structure is very critical for us to fulfill our roles!
After all that, my boss said...."I can never win an argument with you Adila! Oklah!"
And that was it!!! From a humble beginning in 2004 where we started with a team of 4 (myself included), we are now a reasonably sized team of 20 positions.
Post Exco yesterday, the HR account manager (who happens to be my senior in MRSM) texted me and said, "Organization structure approved, Alhamdulillah!"
An achievement that could not have happened without the support of my direct reports, who had to tolerate my moods, my discontent on many, many aspects of the preparation work, not to mention frequently changing my mind.
And Kak Nat and Ali, who have been relentless in managing the paperwork and approvals process.
And my husband, who have been tolerating my late hours and except for a few complaints has hardly said a word on my work hours. And my kids at home, who does not have an inkling that Mama's drive to do all of this is because of all four of you.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
UPSR and a Mother's Rant and Vent
Afifah had a way of saying it "Congratulations! I heard Zarif managed to get all As except for BM!" Thanks Fifah, and truth be told, I was happy with his results. Six months ago he was struggling with Math, particularly fractions. MrM and I decided to get Cikgu Harun and Cikgu Liza to privately coach Zarif and we would like to think that has paid off with him getting an A for his Math, when just six months ago he scored 50 odd marks for Math.
What annoyed me was my well-meant brother-in-law called Zarif immediately upon reaching home, asked about his results, and reprimanded Zarif for not getting 5As.
Come on!
Can I just say that your daughter, dear brother-in-law, performed the requisite 5As for UPSR, 7As for PMR and 5As for SPM and in the end did not pass her Matriculation resulting in pursuing a Tourism course in Kuantan?
The moral of the story is : It is just UPSR for goodness sake! Is he lesser of a mortal intelligence because he managed to get 3As? UPSR is no predictor of his future. UPSR is no predictor of success in life. Heck! A university degree is no predictor of success in life, however you define it to be.
What annoyed me was my well-meant brother-in-law called Zarif immediately upon reaching home, asked about his results, and reprimanded Zarif for not getting 5As.
Come on!
Can I just say that your daughter, dear brother-in-law, performed the requisite 5As for UPSR, 7As for PMR and 5As for SPM and in the end did not pass her Matriculation resulting in pursuing a Tourism course in Kuantan?
The moral of the story is : It is just UPSR for goodness sake! Is he lesser of a mortal intelligence because he managed to get 3As? UPSR is no predictor of his future. UPSR is no predictor of success in life. Heck! A university degree is no predictor of success in life, however you define it to be.
Two by the name Siti Aida
Received news from Zaidah, an office colleague, who is also half-sister to Siti Aida Hj Kedah, that her family is having Yassin recital today, as a last ikhtiar for her. Siti Aida, 44, is suffering from breast cancer. The cancer has spread to her lymph nodes and she now carries a big bulge under her right armpit.
For the uninitiated, Siti Aida Hj Kedah was MrM's school mate in STJ, and sister to my junior in MRSM Hedzir Hj Kedah, as well as Cikgu Suri Hj Kedah, one of the teachers that for the life of me I can't remember what she taught. Siti Aida, to my recollection, has 7 children, with her eldest about the same age as Munirah.
Zaidah tells me that the bulge is oozing liquid and she cries perhaps due to the pain.
Siti Aida Hj Salleh, is my mother, adopted daughter to Hj Salleh or Cikgu Mahat as my grandfather was known and Wan Bedah, my grandmother. My mother has 7 children, too. Suffering from the last stages of liver cancer.
Same name, similar disease, same fate? Only God knows.
For the uninitiated, Siti Aida Hj Kedah was MrM's school mate in STJ, and sister to my junior in MRSM Hedzir Hj Kedah, as well as Cikgu Suri Hj Kedah, one of the teachers that for the life of me I can't remember what she taught. Siti Aida, to my recollection, has 7 children, with her eldest about the same age as Munirah.
Zaidah tells me that the bulge is oozing liquid and she cries perhaps due to the pain.
Siti Aida Hj Salleh, is my mother, adopted daughter to Hj Salleh or Cikgu Mahat as my grandfather was known and Wan Bedah, my grandmother. My mother has 7 children, too. Suffering from the last stages of liver cancer.
Same name, similar disease, same fate? Only God knows.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
A Mother's Journey
Upon hearing the latest developments from my sister, Kak Cik, about Mak's condition, coupled with the guilt of not being there for Mak, and add this crazy workload that I have, this entry makes an attempt to translate the many thoughts I had in the car on the way home last night.
Mak does not have any appetite to eat and yesterday, apparently she did not even notice that she had passed motion on the bed. She is in adult diapers, of course, but considering how particular she is about cleaning herself without any help from the maid or anyone of us, that is a sure sign of some level of deterioration. At least to me. Having had almost nothing to eat except for warm water, she retched late yesterday, again another sign of the onslaught of this disease by the name cancer.
I thought again and again about my office colleague Farehana, whose mother underwent surgery early this year and was in a critical state and the fact that she took unpaid leave to care for her mother. Her reasons were simple. When will I ever get this opportunity to care for my mother at times when she needed me? Farehana too held a position that demands a commitment and saddled with a huge responsibility for Strategic Planning for the entire Group but she made that call to do what she needed to do and that seems so logical to anyone in her situation.
Why can't I do that? Why is this such a difficult decision for me?
It saddens me that I am not able to be like Farehana.
It saddens me further when I think about my mother's life, and how alike it is to mine and all mothers in many ways, except for the difference in years.
My mother tells me that I am the "wanted" child, having had five children in the space of 6 years (1949 - 1955), I guess the decision to have me when my brother Ghazie was 11 was due to the hard life then and let's put it this way, having that many kids in that space of time must have not been easy in the 1950s.
So when I was born, my mother tells me that my sisters were so excited about having a little baby sister and I quickly became the attention of the family. Too much attention that I was accidentally dropped by my eldest sister while carrying me as a baby. And to that my mother said "we are lucky you turn out all right, no brain damage...."
And she was just telling me last week when she was at my house, that Harith too is just like me, a little baby brother that is much doted by Munirah, Zarif and Aliah. And at the corner of her eyes, I could see tears welling, perhaps knowing that she will not see Harith grow up like she did my first three.
Mak tells me that I was a fastidious child, difficult to please and prone to tantrums when my wants are not met. As a toddler, I drank syrup from the bottle and would throw the bottle if the syrup and water combination is not to my liking. (don't you ever wonder why I am the size I am now) I wanted paper ships to be made and the ships were never the exact way that I wanted them. My mother had very little patience for me always leaving me to the hands of Kak Leha to address my source of discontent.
I remember in Form 3, upon getting my SRP results I had informed her and her comment is "pandai jugak anak Mak ni" even though I only managed to get an aggregate of 9. That was her simple way of giving encouragement and how I almost burst with pride when she said that.
I remember too in boarding school where she would bring food almost every day during fasting month for me and my sense of relief for not having to eat the school kitchen prepared food for breakfasting. I have not had that opportunity to do that since none of my own kids have gone to boarding schools but the act of "bersusah payah" is so Greek to me having relied on maids for so long.
There are many more memories that are as clear as the day it happened in my mind. My mother was more a mother to me than I think I am to my children. My mother was many times more a mother to me than I was a daughter to her. I have been so emotional on matters that don't seem to matter much now.
Now in her time of need, my thoughts last night was this "wanted" baby have failed to act on what is the right thing to do. I know this seems more like my own inner critic but why can't I?
Mak does not have any appetite to eat and yesterday, apparently she did not even notice that she had passed motion on the bed. She is in adult diapers, of course, but considering how particular she is about cleaning herself without any help from the maid or anyone of us, that is a sure sign of some level of deterioration. At least to me. Having had almost nothing to eat except for warm water, she retched late yesterday, again another sign of the onslaught of this disease by the name cancer.
I thought again and again about my office colleague Farehana, whose mother underwent surgery early this year and was in a critical state and the fact that she took unpaid leave to care for her mother. Her reasons were simple. When will I ever get this opportunity to care for my mother at times when she needed me? Farehana too held a position that demands a commitment and saddled with a huge responsibility for Strategic Planning for the entire Group but she made that call to do what she needed to do and that seems so logical to anyone in her situation.
Why can't I do that? Why is this such a difficult decision for me?
It saddens me that I am not able to be like Farehana.
It saddens me further when I think about my mother's life, and how alike it is to mine and all mothers in many ways, except for the difference in years.
My mother tells me that I am the "wanted" child, having had five children in the space of 6 years (1949 - 1955), I guess the decision to have me when my brother Ghazie was 11 was due to the hard life then and let's put it this way, having that many kids in that space of time must have not been easy in the 1950s.
So when I was born, my mother tells me that my sisters were so excited about having a little baby sister and I quickly became the attention of the family. Too much attention that I was accidentally dropped by my eldest sister while carrying me as a baby. And to that my mother said "we are lucky you turn out all right, no brain damage...."
And she was just telling me last week when she was at my house, that Harith too is just like me, a little baby brother that is much doted by Munirah, Zarif and Aliah. And at the corner of her eyes, I could see tears welling, perhaps knowing that she will not see Harith grow up like she did my first three.
Mak tells me that I was a fastidious child, difficult to please and prone to tantrums when my wants are not met. As a toddler, I drank syrup from the bottle and would throw the bottle if the syrup and water combination is not to my liking. (don't you ever wonder why I am the size I am now) I wanted paper ships to be made and the ships were never the exact way that I wanted them. My mother had very little patience for me always leaving me to the hands of Kak Leha to address my source of discontent.
I remember in Form 3, upon getting my SRP results I had informed her and her comment is "pandai jugak anak Mak ni" even though I only managed to get an aggregate of 9. That was her simple way of giving encouragement and how I almost burst with pride when she said that.
I remember too in boarding school where she would bring food almost every day during fasting month for me and my sense of relief for not having to eat the school kitchen prepared food for breakfasting. I have not had that opportunity to do that since none of my own kids have gone to boarding schools but the act of "bersusah payah" is so Greek to me having relied on maids for so long.
There are many more memories that are as clear as the day it happened in my mind. My mother was more a mother to me than I think I am to my children. My mother was many times more a mother to me than I was a daughter to her. I have been so emotional on matters that don't seem to matter much now.
Now in her time of need, my thoughts last night was this "wanted" baby have failed to act on what is the right thing to do. I know this seems more like my own inner critic but why can't I?
From L to R : Kak Leha (my parents' adopted daughter), Kak Mong (eldest), Mak holding me, Kak Cik and Kak Yang circa 1966.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
Family Picnic Makes a Happy Day
I wanted to bring Harith to PD and get his first foot into the sea and after much coordinating with Kak Yang who wanted to bring Lara for some company and activities, we finally made the move to PD at about 9am. It was a fun day for the kids, especially Zarif and Aliah. Harith was tired by noon and fell asleep immediately in the car on the way back. For MrM and I, the hot weather, running around kids, carrying Harith, we are just not made for this anymore.
Harith by the fish pond while waiting for Mak Dek
My little baby growing up too fast!
On the beach with Papa
A little frightened at first
As long as that water with sounds don't come near me....
Kakak Munirah always captures Harith's best moments
Like my beach bum shorts?
Baa baaa......
Secure with that familiar blue bag by my side.....
MrM and Harith balancing themselves on a soccer ball....
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