11.14.08
joel’s liquor store troubles.
Breaking my self-imposed exile for a good reason and a quick post.
So today I walk into the neighbourhood LCBO (liquor store) at Bloor West Village, Toronto to buy a bottle of wine as a gift for a good friend of mine’s birthday dinner, which I’m a bit too busy to stay at for long but intended to drop by with gift in hand, send my well wishes and say hi to all my friends.
I step into the liquor store, one I’m unfamiliar with since I only moved to this neighbourhood 2 summers ago, and am immediately greeted by the eyes of an elderly blonde lady at the counter. And in her stare I saw something I had never felt before in my life – a mix of distrust and disapproval and distaste, a “get out of my store” look.
At the time I didn’t really understand these feelings, but I felt a great unease as I walked around looking for a bottle of red wine for my friend. The woman was staring at me with those same strangely disapproving eyes the entire time, something I noticed every time I looked over my shoulder at the counter. After a few minutes of this uneasiness, with my mood turning darker by the minute – even though the reason behind this still escaped me at the time – I gave up looking for the wine and walked toward the exit.
Now, as I walked past the counter toward the entrance of the store, the woman, with those same judging eyes, suddenly asked me if she could help me with anything. Don’t you ask people that when they enter your store, not when they already have a hand outstretched to push open the door and step outside? Slightly taken aback, I tried to smile, politely declined and thanked her and left for the subway station.
. . .
Now, I’m not a fool. I’m not a SNAG either, but I’m pretty perceptive. I can tell what is just plain bad service, and what is, well, quite a bit worse. I’ve waited on tables for a month at a classy Orchard Road cafe (glitzy shopping district in Singapore) myself. I can tell when the resident coffee guy at my college’s 2nd Cup is having a bad day and gets a bit gruff, but since he’s all warm smiles and excessively polite (even by Canadian standards) 95% of the time, it doesn’t bother me one bit. But the LCBO lady’s lack of service went beyond a bad mood. It was prejudice.
And you know what, I know this for a fact now. Because it was so strong, so evident. Because she barely tried to hide it. Because in my 6 years of living in Canada, despite being one of probably only two or three dozen Asian kids at my high school, I have been lucky enough to have never felt it so strongly – so strongly that I didn’t understand at the time what it is I was feeling.
Why did she only talk to me, all of a sudden, as I moved toward the exit? Instead of offering her help (or even greeting me) the whole time I was in the store, or when I had just entered? Was it to read my face, gauge the tone of my voice in my reaction to see if I had something to hide? I honestly do not know, and can only guess, because as I’ve said, being prejudiced against is something I am very thankful to God that I’m not used to.
What about me could it be that brought that reaction from that woman? I wasn’t wearing over-sized jeans, I have no tattoos, I didn’t have a hoodie or beanie pulled over my face as I entered the store. I didn’t avoid eye contact, and in fact had tried to make eye contact and smile at the woman when I entered – before my eyes met that disdainful stare, of course. I don’t do the goth look or the grunge rock’n'roll look or the sk8t3r b0i, too. My fashion sense, sadly, is preppy and quite close to these Budweiser “What are you doing?” dudes’. I always have short, cropped hair (a fashion-transcending relic from my army days) and today I gelled it up to be tidier. I was actually more well dressed than I usually am, and was wearing a long-sleeved Abercrombie shirt with a brown corduroy blazer. I had shaved just before leaving the house, too, except for my sideburns which I’m leaving a bit longer than usual, just for fun. I was wearing nice brown sneakers which I had bought last Christmas from Montreal. I didn’t have my earphones or sunglasses on. I was in a pretty good mood (with the weekend finally here) and had a little hop to my step. I also wasn’t coughing or anything, and had been feeling great despite my recent lack of sleep due to the lovely 14 degree weather.
By all accounts, I think I looked, dressed and acted rather presentably today. So whatever the source of her prejudice, it had nothing to do with the way I was dressed. Nor did it have anything to do with the way I carried myself, since she was giving me that untrusting look the second I stepped into her store. Whatever the source of her prejudice, I can only guess, and can’t say for certain.
But it wasn’t about how I was dressed. Or about how I was behaving. Or about my religion, or my accent.
What disturbs me is how someone working in the service industry can continue to behave like she does in such a generally warm, welcoming, multi-chromatic and multicultural city like Toronto, in a neighbourhood like mine where any two people on the street of the same religion or skin tone would likely have an entirely different accent.
. . .
I ended up not going to my friend’s birthday dinner. I was out of sorts, stammering and not being coherent at my project meeting this afternoon, too, because this strange feeling has been eating away at my subconscious the entire time. I also turned down another friend’s offer to go hang out later tonight, even though I otherwise would’ve loved to, being sorely in need of a break from my work. I just somehow don’t have the mood for any of this now.
I am confident in the person that I am, with the colour of my skin, the sound of my voice. I am a decent student in a competitive program at a good university. I have served as a sergeant and have trained and been responsible for the welfare of men years older than me. I have dramatically messed up in front of 200 guests at a school event I was organizing, so nothing can faze me very much beyond this point. At the same time, I am very thankful to my family for their omnipresent support, to both my home country Singapore and adopted home Toronto for being safe, eclectic and very well-run societies. And, I carry myself every day with that mix of confidence in myself and consummate gratitude to those who have made my life what it is today.
So to unfathomably be prejudiced against today and so explicitly unwelcome and disliked by someone for no logical reason is alien and offensive to me, and disturbs me still.
11.11.08
a baller’s pride
I’m going to be hella busy for the rest of the school term with my academic work, so I doubt I’ll post anything else substantial til mid December. I’m taking a break right now from my work to write about something that bothers me, and has been bothering me since the start of the summer.
The Lakers. Yes again.
Specifically, I’d like to write about the play that broke my heart as a Laker fan those months back: Ray Allen’s game-winning layup on Sasha Vujacic in Game 4 of the NBA Finals.
When that play happened, I yelled at the TV. I bit my lip so hard it bled. I was slamming my fists on my bed nearby.
What pissed me off so much? It wasn’t Sasha’s fault. He isn’t the fastest defender, and he’s a little white guy (okay, he’s got a coupla inches on me but still). But he tries hard. How do you guard Jesus who’s iso-ing on you? You can’t give him space with the game on the line, so Sasha moves forward to get in his face. And Ray blows by him for the open layup. No fault of Sasha.
What pissed me off was the body language of the rest of the Lakers. The casual fan, the shoots-hoops-for-fun-on-the-weekend baller won’t see it. That was the most horrible defense I have ever, ever seen in my life. It was really, really obvious that the Celtics were gonna isolate Ray on Sasha, to capitalize on Ray’s superior speed and experience. So they run the play. And Ray beats Sasha on the dribble.
Watching Sasha sitting upset on the bench afterward really moved me. Yes, Sasha. Cry. Slam your hands disconsolately. He was upset at himself, beating himself up for letting Ray beat him. But he shouldn’t. He tried his best and his emotional outburst showed how much pride he put in playing those last few seconds of that game… much, much more than I can say for the other Lakers standing on the court at the time.
What do the other Lakers do when Sasha gets beat? Watch the video.
Vladimir Rad-f*cking-manovic is standing there watching as Ray drives unmolested to the hoop. He doesn’t even move his feet to help out. He just watches. He was the “first line of defense”; he could’ve stepped in for the charge, or at least stick out a hand or leg to try and steal or impede or bump or even trip Ray. But no. He stands there watching.
Pau? Pau, standing baseline with the best view of the situation and thus having the most time to react, decides to stick to his man until the last minute, when he half-heartedly takes a cringe-inducing effeminate one-legged hop with his hands outstretched to try and stop Ray. That wouldn’t even be good defense in an Under-14 girls game.
Fisher wasn’t TOO bad. Seeing the play unfold, he sagged off his guy in anticipation of Ray’s drive. But he was on the wrong side of the court – yet ironically came closest to helping out on D.
And lastly, my man Kobe. I don’t care if Phil had drawn out a box-and-one on Paul Pierce, and had told Kobe to stick to PP no matter what. Because PP, the cold-blooded assassin that he is, is a lot less dangerous 40 feet away from the hoop than Ray Allen is shooting an uncontested layup. Kobe stands there outside the 3-point line, looking almost nonchalantly as Sasha got beat. Not even the semblance of shifting his feet a BIT closer.
…
So (fellow?) Laker fans out there, tell me. Is this championship defense? Do championship contenders abandon their teammate, down 3 with 27 seconds left in the biggest game of the season on their HOME COURT? Is this the best you have to show, guys? Where was the collapsing help defense? Where was their PRIDE???
I’m sorry if I’m getting too emotional about this. But to anyone who says that the Lakers lost because of inexperience – bullshit. That play summed it all up. It wasn’t Sasha’s fault, it was everybody else’s. Kobe and Pau and f*cking Radmanovic’s. It wasn’t about inexperience. It was about pride. This was not the pride of champions, not the pride of contenders, even.
I’ll tell you something. Rick Fox and Robert Horry and Ron Harper and Brian Shaw and Mark bloody Madsen would have collapsed on D on that play. Lindsey Hunter and Devean George would’ve. Purple-and-gold Shaq would’ve fouled the sh*t out of Ray. That’s the difference between this Laker team and the Dynasty ones.
…
Maybe I’m being too much of a hard ass on them.
I had a heck of a basketball coach in secondary school, a coach who ran a team the same way Larry Brown ran his championship Pistons, and, yes, taught us to play basketball “the right way”. I remember once during a friendly match on our home court, when we did something just as shameful as that Laker defensive play, he called a timeout right away.
The opposing team went to their bench to huddle around the coach. And our team? With a yell of “BASELINE!” the 5 players on the court – me included – did suicide runs until the timeout ended, in front of dozens of other students watching from the nearby canteen, as well as the opposing team who watched in horror with their mouths agape. By the time the timeout was over, when the opposing team was rested and waiting for us on court, my guys and I were on the verge of puking. That greatly embarrassed us, but it emphasized a hard lesson – to play with pride, if nothing else, and to never quit on our teammates.
…
I’m probably reading too much into one play. I hope I am. But that play showed me the true face of this version of the Laker team: they’ll blow you out, score hundreds of points on you during the regular season. They’re already doing it this season. But when the chips are down, 80-something games from now in the NBA finals, will they quit on their teammate again when it matters most?
*The author of this post was sitting in his chair crying disconsolately as he wrote this. When his mother came up to bring him some tea, he bitterly waved her away and slammed his hand on a nearby chair. He then looked up to the heavens in despair, and threw a towel on his face in shame.*
11.23.08
The Role of China in Restructuring the Global Financial System
Posted in joeloholic commentary tagged 2008 recession, bailout, capital markets, China, financial system, globalization, joel ong, restructuring, role of China, sovereign wealth funds, university of toronto, US economy, US recession at 10:29 pm by mr joel
This year I’ve had the opportunity to study in a class called Globalization and Capital Markets: Political Economy and Investment Strategy at the University of Toronto, under a trio of the most brilliant minds I have ever had the joy of learning from, namely Alan Alexandroff, Jim de Wilde and Jonathan Hausman.
A few weeks ago I wrote a short memorandum for this class, outlining the role of China in both the short term and long term in restoring order to the global economy. I discuss how and why China has to play a role in the immediate future, as well as the obstacles that China and the US have to overcome in allowing China to lend a hand to help revive the US economy. I also explore the longer term fundamental changes to the global financial system, including the end of today’s too-convenient vendor-financing deadly cycle between the US and the world’s factory, as well as the crucial need for China to step up to the fore as a consumer base and responsible leader of the developing world.
Since I got a decent grade for the paper, and more importantly, since I learned quite a bit when I was researching for and writing it, I’ve decided to post the document online at the following address:
The Role of China in Restructuring the Global Financial System, University of Toronto RSM413 memorandum, October 21 2008.
Hopefully someone out there finds this useful and informative, in a non-plagiarizing kind of way. Enjoy.
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