Before.
Q was my first.
(Mentor in the banking sector lah, what’s wrong with you people?)
Back then I had dowdy long hair and wore glasses, Watson’s hose, cheap shoes, zero makeup. I was so awkward in heels (even 2 inch ones) I bought shoes a whole size bigger so I could stuff in several Dr Scholl’s padded shoe insoles.
(Years later I would store up to 3 spare pairs of comfortable shoes under my desk. Not that I own that many pairs of shoes in the first place, and until today I can only manage a 3.5 inch heel with some effort (what’s the point when your hub is 5 ft 7 like you are?) but I liked “living in the office.” During the days when the market went nuts, I could feel the difference to my energy levels, whether I scurried about in heels or no.
Sometimes I didn’t wear shoes. I padded about discreetly in stocking-ed feet clad in back-seamed French hose. They cost ~HKD 400 each at Agent Provocateur in Lane Crawford, but years ago I found a lifetime supply at around RM 15 a pop from some pokey little outlet store in a shopping center in KL.
Who knew some of that expensive, ladder-resistant French hose with the line going down the back of your legs was Buatan Malaysia?)
“Can I borrow your PC to look at porn for a minute?”
After scooting over while he made a show of opening up some pictures (his own computer had hung, possibly from the strain of trying to open too much hi-resolution porn), I got up and moved to Q’s newly-vacated desk with something to read. “I’ll sit here til you’re done.”
Q seemed amused. Maybe it’s a bizarre initiation ritual because I’m not sure he actually looked at porn for real. Not long after, he gave me my first lesson in equity derivatives. “Thank you!!” He paused. I must have had puppy dog eyes. I was so hungry. So grateful someone would give me a chance to learn something. He went on teaching.
In the next few months, I would not pay for a single lunch I ate – and I would never venture into Golden Shoe (nearby food court). We often sat outdoors along Boat Quay so he could have a smoke, with only a beach umbrella between us and the bright glare and heat of the Singapore sun at lunch hour. And all the time, punctuated by ‘F’s and brokers he knew stopping by the table, Q would talk.
There were other good guys in that little dealing room too, but before they eventually “came out,” there was Q. Q sounded like the biggest bully. He was loud, abrasive, confrontational, used the F word a lot. And he never allowed me to feel sorry for myself.
It was all a cover for the fact he was a softie. Not of the sissy variety – Q was and still makes one of the most sincere, loyal friends I have ever met. And he’d been with the same girl for like, forever, but held off marrying her until he knew he could stay in love with her forever, like he was to vow he would, before God. (And yes he married her).
Sometimes you need a spine to stand up for someone or something, keeping quiet does not a nice guy make. Q was an open book who barked out his loyalties, sometimes regardless of humongous political cost. That was when the seed of fierce loyalty, being true to what you really believe in, was first planted in me.
As I became a Christian, it would be further nurtured by the conviction I answered for my choices and actions to God, not to office politicking. Who knew a reputation for loyalty (as well as being at least halfway competent) would turn out to be especially valued by bosses as I went thru 3 mergers?
Q is the only son of… An Important Guy. Who… owns Stuff in Asia. (That’s all I know. Swear. Actually, it’s very easy to ask around – everyone knows the name. It was a conscious effort to be distracted by a bumblebee during conversations involving his dad, and I would like some credit for that, thank you very much.)
Why is that so important to me?
Q never said anything about his father til the day he gently told me he was leaving the industry: “Because of my dad, I never wanted to be in finance. Do well, and people say ‘Well what can you expect, —– is his dad.’ Do badly, and people say ‘Well what can you expect, —– is his dad.’ You can’t win.”
I don’t have a famous dad, so I can only guess it is like the uncertainty a rich guy or very beautiful woman feels from new friendships – are they my friends just because I have money/ does he say he loves me just because I am young and pretty today?
There is no way I can turn back the clock 10+ years and repay Q for the kindness he once showed the earnest newbie who didn’t wear makeup or have any working knowledge of derivatives.
But I wanted to tell him one day, when I could buy my own diamonds and Prada and also quit the market for awhile to raise my son:
All those years I rush to buy him lunch every chance I get. I have never known who his dad really is.
Q had a lasting impression on me as this newbie who would later grow up over the next 10+ years, because of who Q is.
Of the people whom we once knew a decade ago, one or two now earn major bucks at large investment banks. I still have zero respect for the people that they are.
Q on the other hand, is currently a stay at home dad to his little girl and scarily advanced baby boy (he stopped working when his son was born). I still care what Q thinks of me and stuff I’ve been up to.
You know what people are really like by how they treat others they perceive to be of no use to them. It is one of the most useful things you can learn when you’re a newbie – who would be a real friend. You will not be a newbie who knows nothing forever. But you will always need real friends.
That day when Q told me he was leaving, I picked up his freshly-printed resignation letter, walked across the room and shredded it. He didn’t stop me. He still left, though. Much as I wished it would, even as I got better and better, our paths never again crossed for work.
After.
But for all those lunches, every day at Boat Quay, he will never have to pay for another lunch with me whenever he comes to Hong Kong.
He likes Japanese, so we Kikued.
