"Unless you had been living under a rock," Stanley my sex bunny friend said the moment our video call got through, "you would know that the latest rave on Netflix is Bling Empire."
Carl the dense one who doesn't live under a rock grinned and nodded.
"What is Bling Empire!" Stanley barked at Carl, calling him out.
Carl, who lives in a well and has no access to general knowledge or current affairs, bit his lips and kept his head bowed.
Of late, Stanley had been all about the Bling Empire.
Our friend had binge-watched all the episodes at one go and even goes so far as to film his reaction at certain scenes (suffice to say the show has a fair share of fair skin showing-- from supple breasts to bubble butts).
But it's not just the nudity, says Stanley. It's their crazy lifestyles and the crazy things they say!
Stanley, who is himself born with a silver spoon in his mouth, has been blessed with his family wealth.
He would later grow up and replace the silver spoon with something else in his mouth, but the point is, growing up, Stanley had not exactly been poor.
"But this," Stanley says, "is a different kind of wow."
Taking a private jet to Paris for lunch is not exactly the same as grabbing to Pasir Ris for prawn mee, you know.
"I want to be a Crazy Rich Asian also," said Stanley, crazy Asian.
Carl, who is also Asian but far from crazy, nodded enthusiastically and clapped.
Carl is simply dense and has no interest nor the capacity to learn new things around him, including the name of his regular part-time cleaning aunty.
For weeks, Stanley became heavily obsessed with the show often making references that we do not immediately understand -- which is the norm for Carl.
"I'm inspired to buy a penis pump," Stanley announced the other day, noting that rich people have this handy device.
Curious with all the rave (and the penis pump), I sat down one Saturday morning to finally watch it.
I must say, the show is trashy.
It's so trashy, it's so bad, it's so good.
Some say the show is tone deaf because airing a series about ostentatious wealth and lifestyles at this time isn't great timing.
But one thing is loud and clear -- it's highly entertaining.
I love it because we get a sneak peek into so many things: Rich people's homes, toilets, dinner parties, wardrobes and what's beneath their expensive clothes.
But for me, it was also an awakening.
While some people's takeaway is to own a penis pump (Stanley) and how one can get rich friends (Carl, who finally watched it, was naturally intrigued by the muscles of one of the characters, and wonders how he can rub shoulders with the rich and famous), mine is quite the opposite.
I was reminded of how poor I had once been, and how that has shaped me later in life.
To be fair, mine is no sob story that is worthy to be shared as a PAP candidate (who will tell you they come from "humble backgrounds" and had lived in a rental flat when they were young).
But my poor story is still enriching.
I didn't have money problems until I started working.
It marked the end of my steady stream of pocket money windfall which helped me survive teenhood to university days.
My first job was something I had loved but my salary was miserable.
My takehome pay was $1,400.
Friends who chose other careers, especially those in the civil service, easily earned $1,000 more.
At first, I wasn't too bothered even though it was natural to compare starting salaries. I stood my ground because I loved my career choice, my colleagues, my work.
But eventually, being poor sucked.For four years, I had toiled in that miserly company that gave me a yearly increment of only between $30 and $50.
Though I had no complaints and still love my work, it got very tiring.
To make up for the miserable pay, I eventually held two jobs.
My night job was fun and pays well and involved lots of mingling.
I taught in a tuition centre thrice a week, earning really good money.
But it took a toll even on my youthful self: Starting my day at 7am and ending at 10pm every day (on days when I'm not at my tuition centre, I was working late).
My sister always tells me that I needed to hold down one job -- not two -- to earn the money I was earning back then.
But being young had its advantages.
I was able to push myself with little sleep and bounce back the next day.
On some days, it would be particularly hard.
I had been rejected by banks who saw me as toenail dirt when I applied for credit cards. They didn't even bother replying me to say my application was rejected.
Some days, even the ATM shunned me.
I would try to draw out $20 and on many occasions, realise, oh, I only have $14 or less in my bank account.
In my early days before I held two jobs, a friend casually asked me out to dinner.
"I don't have money to pay for Ma Maison," I told E.
E warmly said it would be his treat.
I wasn't used to being treated as a charity case and of course, E -- who is a dear friend -- had no such intention. But that episode was a vivid one. Both humbling and prideful at the same time -- I was not shy to admit I had no money, and that I wanted to spend within my means.
Which is one very valuable lesson my partner J taught me.
"It's not how much you earn, but how much you save," he would say.
It's true.
Despite four years of miserable pay and a poor head start, I had never once spent beyond my means.
When I first started out, my monthly savings had been $50.
It took me three years before I could increase that monthly saving amount to $150.
Today, I'm proud to say that I still spend humbly -- which is slightly more than my starting pay of $1,400 some 20 years ago.
But I also have, along the way, picked up acts of kindness shown to me.
These days, I try to pay for meals when I'm with friends whenever I can because I remember how nice it felt when E had treated me when I was at my lowest, at my poorest.
Having once been poor also taught me that money isn't everything.
When I was at my lowest, I was surrounded by friends who would pay for my meals and offer to lend me money when I was dry. And I am glad I wasn't shunned because those people, who are my true friends, remain in my circle today.
I shared these with Stanley.
"I hear you, sister," he said.
"When I'm at my lowest, I too want to be surrounded by people especially when I'm dry. And I want them in my circle for sure."
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