Happy Employees = Happy Company

What a lot of business owners and managers don't understand (or don't care to understand) is that a happy employee equals a happy company. Take Google for example; all their employees are extremely happy there and are therefore innovating and creating at unprecedented rates. People are lining up around the block just to get a position at the company! What does that mean? Well, it means that Google doesn't have to accept crappy employees (or, employees that can't do their jobs well) and then FORCE them to do better. Since people love working there, Google has a large selection of potential candidates and can choose the best person for each job. And that best person will be happy inside the company, meaning that their work gets even better!

I've got a theory about employee responsibility, too. I propose that employees should be given their job description and told that they're required to achieve a certain amount: nothing more, nothing less. If the employee goes over on either side - they're in trouble! It's like a machine or a biological system; for it to work perfectly, each and every part has to do exactly what they're intended - nothing more, nothing less.

Moreover, managers won't always be prodding employees to do more and more... which actually leads to anger, resentment, and eventually, quitting. Tell your employee to do exactly what he or she was hired to do and that's it.

Do You Know What Blows?

Do you know what blows? Well, I'll tell you... being frickin' old and having to run around here and there just to get scraps thrown at you every payday really blows. Even if you're not old, it still blows. But, it especially blows if you're old. Imagine using up all your energy for the sake of your work everyday? Do we live to work or do we work to live? It sure seems like we live to work sometimes... but there's the contradiction.

Each of us is working to produce something for the other people out there in society... so why does everyone work like slaves? Is it so that in the little time that we do have off, we can spend it more hedonistically compared to if we didn't work as hard? Are we living somewhere unenjoyable so that we can make a little extra dough and then take that extra money to go somewhere desirable on the short vacation you get? Why not just directly live where is desirable, work less and enjoy each day of your life?! Do we really need to be tired to enjoy the feeling of energy? DO WE?!?!

Of course, choosing to live in the society that we do live in, money is an important thing. We all need it to get by in a society based upon money... so it's unavoidable. However, what is avoidable is working too hard at something that will get you nowhere. What is avoidable is wasting the earnings of your hard work on something that doesn't really alleviate any of the pressure on your life. What is avoidable is wasting your younger years working with no aim in mind, with no goals set. What is avoidable is not setting yourself up for the day that you break free...

English Murmur #7

Part of the answer of one high school student when posed the question, "Would you rather be a celebrity, or an ordinary person?" HAHAHA...

"And I will not be pested by paparaze on my way home. Further more, I will not hit the head lines when I have affair."

English Murmur #6

"I am a fat girl that I don’t like to exercise everyday."

English Murmur #5

"When I was ten years old, my parents took me to swim. Unfortunately, I drown."

English Murmur #4

"I wish I can be thinner that every will change their mind and be easier to know the inside of me."

English Murmur #3

"He has a heavy body, kind face, soft voice, and a hearty heart."

English Murmur #2

"I know their hamburger are very huge, so I want to go to America. I want to eat it."

English Murmur #1

"But I am more fortunate than those children who have to eat human beings to survive."

Night Life, Life...

People are always like, "Blah, blah, blah, I love the night life of this city. Ohh... look, people are doing this and that... blah, blah, blah." What the fuck's to love about the night in a city after people are worn out all day by the laborious work they have to do?! You see some guy hunched over a bowl of noodles because he's frickin' tired after putting in a 12-hour shift and you think that it's beautiful?! It's pitiful and sad! The guy is so damn tired, and he's hungry, so he's just burned at least half an hour of his pay on that bowl of noodles. The noodle-seller, in turn, is probably working even longer! Getting up early in the morning to get the noodles and the soup ready... working into the wee hours of the night just to scrape together a pitiful living. A life as such is horrible!

Don't Overlook the Toilet

One of the most basic things people do for entertainment is eat. Yes, people eat not only to provide sustenance to their bodies; they eat in order to spend time with someone they care about, they eat because it tastes good, they eat because they're bored or depressed. That's all people think about... eat, eat, eat. Even proprietors of restaurants only think about what they're able to offer in terms of eats. But... what about when all that food is processed and wants to come out the other end? That's right, nobody thinks much about shitting.

Shitting, however, is a very important thing that we all must do.

Why do most businesses, especially restaurants, neglect the value that their toilets have for their customers? In times of need, in times of great stomach pain... it is the toilet that is your friend. People would obviously rather do their business at home, but it is a good and clean public toilet that can be your friend when home is too far away. Some restaurants, especially those in countries without regulations, don't even have a toilet to speak of! What kind of craziness is that? Sure, if you've got some kind of street-stall, it's OK not to have a toilet... but definitely not for a sit-in restaurant. Therefore, I refuse to give my money to restaurants that don't even have the consideration to provide their customers with a place of relief. Forget shitting, what if you need to pee?!

In Canada, for example, there are regulations stating the amount of toilets needed based on the capacity of your restaurant... but in other countries, this is not the case. In fact, Starbucks is a really good example of an asshole company when it comes to toilets. Sure, their toilets are usually very clean... but they keep the size of their cafes to a minimum partly so that they only need two toilets available (one of them being for wheelchair users, of course). In Asia, even if the Starbucks can seat over 50 people - there is invariably only one toilet for females and one for males. If that's not inconsiderate, I don't know what is.

I don't know about you, but I appreciate a clean toilet when I'm in need. I especially appreciate a clean restroom that is well-designed. It's a life-saver in times of urgent need. For those of you who don't have any bowel problems (such as IBS or lactose intolerance), you may not appreciate the emotions associated with a good toilet. You may have been rescued by a toilet once or twice before - but not on a regular basis as the bowelfully-challenged, such as myself, are. We appreciate toilets and they're very important to us. If there's a public place we frequent, you can be sure that we know where the least-used and cleanest toilets will be. You can also be sure that if we live in ghetto countries where toilet-paper does not always accompany toilets, that we have some.

I'm sure you can empathize with all I've said.

For business owners, I'm telling you that a clean and well-designed toilet will bring your customers back again and again. Your customers will know that your place not only offers great food, but also a great place to relieve themselves if necessary. I once heard a customer come out of Din Tai Fung - the most famous pork dumpling house in the world, and one of the world's top 10 restaurants with locations in nine countries - raving about the restroom. She said it was the most amazing restroom she's ever been to in her life. Imagine that... you walk into one of the world's top 10 restaurants and you come out raving about the toilet. See what a big impact the other end of your business has on customers? Think carefully before you decide to put all your effort into the food and leave the toilet as an afterthought.

First Moments in Taiwan

Here's a short story of my first moments in Taiwan, back in 2004:

I anticipated what I’d see once I got off the airplane excitedly – it was my first time overseas in adult life and it was such an exciting feeling. On the airplane, I sat next to a guy named, Jian-Jian Wei, who was an engineer from Taiwan in a company called Tatung. Later in my stay in Taiwan, I would find out that Tatung was one of Taiwan’s most famous brands; Jian-Jian worked in their LCD screen division. We talked here and there throughout the flight and I learned a lot about him. One notable thing I still remember is that I told him I was Hakka, and he told me that his girlfriend was Hakka, too. I find that whenever I tell people that I’m Hakka, it comes to light that; they’re Hakka, one of their parents are Hakka, or they are dating a Hakka. I love telling people I’m Hakka – the Hakka are everywhere!

Looking back, I remember the seats to be as about as cramped as any other economy-class seat out there, but it was my first time since going to India in 1996 that I took an airplane and so I didn’t mind it too much. Airplanes have always fascinated me, but passenger airplanes especially. The way they’re able to ferry hundreds of people into the air at such great speeds is a fascinating thing. Airliners look so sleek, so white and when you see them from the window of an airport waiting lounge – you can’t help but marvel at how huge they are. Humans sure have come a long way since the days of crossing oceans in steam ships.

The airplane I took was a China Airlines Boeing 747, which as I remember, rattled and shook as much as a bus in Taipei (I later found out how much Taipei buses rattled and shook). There are two things I most remember about that flight; the first thing is the Taiwanese music that I heard for the first time on the airplane, and the second thing is how fake the service of the airline attendants were. Whenever I hear Taiwanese music now, it brings back such a warm feeling and makes me remember the time I was on the airplane looking forward to my stay in Taiwan. When the plane was only about six hours away from Taipei, I had taken the headphones out of their sanitary plastic wrap and flipped through the radio stations. I didn’t bother watching TV, because it was quite entertaining looking at the monitor seeing the little airplane chart our progress across the Pacific. When I heard Taiwanese music for the first time, a wonderful melody and a wonderful-sounding language floated into my ears. I wondered why I had never heard Taiwanese music before.

Right now, I can’t even remember disembarking from the airplane; all I can remember is stepping out into the hot air of Taipei with my aunt and uncle. It was almost midnight when I breathed Taiwanese air for the first time. I still remember how hot it was – hot like the time my family and I were waiting to pass customs in the airport in Calcutta. That was daytime, however, and here the sky was dark. The air was as humid and as misty as I’ve ever seen. It seemed as if the air was the same air as that from a sauna; the comforting warmth against my skin and the lights whose glare was dull in the humidity. I could almost see the mist rising up from the street and enveloping everything around it. Palm trees and yellow taxis bathing in a natural sauna.

At the moment, I felt how I felt on hot summer nights as a teenager in Markham with my friends when we would stay up through the wee hours of the morning. It was like the time I was with Kevin, Stew and Carmen and we were walking to Carmen’s house at around two in the morning. It was like so many times that Chad or Ben and I went out for a drive in the middle of the night. Except this time, I was somewhere else; in another time and another place.

As I was soaking up the feeling of being in a whole new world and just living the moment, a taxi rolled up and the luggage and us got in. The taxi was yellow, just as every other taxi on the island was. A sort of faded yellow whose color seemed to represent the labor and effort of a poor man trying to support his family. If he told you his story, it seemed, you would surely shed tears. I exchanged a few words in Mandarin with him, my aunt’s friend’s husband, but we lacked of any more conversation probably due to my beginner status as a Mandarin speaker. The background sound of the car’s tires rolling along the highway and the engine humming were a familiar sound and feeling; as if a fixture in my life that could be had at any time and any where.

It was the incredible view outside the window, however, which I noticed most. As the taxi made its way down the highway, I peered through the window and noticed small mountains near the road. Mountains! I’ve never seen a mountain up close and this was incredible. Several mountains we passed could clearly be discerned, despite the thickness of night filling the air. They were giants that loomed beside the highway and seemed almost to float in the darkness. One image I particularly remember was of a mountain so close to the highway that I opened the window to get a better look. Only with my head tilted way down could I see the starry sky appear from behind it, and its fuzzy appearance was caused by trees lining it from top to bottom.

On some stretches of highway, though, there was not a mountain nearby. What could be seen were vast stretches of flat land. Probably the domain of a toiling farmer who had to get up everyday before dawn to tend to his fields. Work which was rewarding in its own right, but work which was forced upon him. In the distance behind most of those fields, however, were mountains even larger than those near the highway. Mountains enveloped the landscape in every direction and reminded me how small a person really is.

As I admired the scenerey, the car got off the highway and started down local streets. The view of these local streets was even more fascinating than what appeared outside the window not moments before. The buildings and smattering of things by the side of the road were so reminiscent of India that it was deja vu. The streets of the two different places looked so similar that I felt as if I really was in India again, though I knew better. From the backseat of the car, I couldn’t much make out what the exact features of the buildings we passed were, but I remember overwhelming visual stimulus. There were gaudy yellow signs with red words encircled in light bulbs that stuck out all over the place. Signs and words were on the street, on the buildings and everywhere else one could think to put a sign. The buildings looked dilapidated and overused – a city that seemed to have grown organically; a city that had been put together by a multitude of individuals and only piece by piece. I would only later notice the thick layer of scooters which remain piled-up on streets and on sidewalks day after day.

It wasn’t very long before the taxi stopped and I was standing in front of my aunt’s apartment complex. The taxi hadn’t stopped in a parking lot or a driveway – there was no driveway – but it had stopped on the road in front of the building’s main entrance. At the time, I didn’t notice any cars or scooters whizzing by, but I’m sure they did that day as they do everyday. On that road and on every other road in Taipei, a ceaseless line of cars and scooters constantly thunders past. But on that day, it was funny, because as I was getting my luggage out of the trunk, I stood there on the road without anxiety. It was as if the taxi I rode was the only vehicle in the world and it was there just for me. Throughout the whole one-hour ride back to my aunt’s home, I didn’t notice any vehicles and I didn’t notice any at that moment. The street we stood on had become part of my experience and was no longer asphalt for the purpose of conveying traffic.

I won’t soon forget the feelings of that day; the expectation and excitement I had, wrapped up in the warm and humid feeling of emotional freedom.

Please post a comment and let me know what you thought about my story! It was a story with no plot and no point; it was just for me to practice my writing and one that only expresses feelings. You know you want to comment!