Background: 1997 -- 1999 (Age 30 - 32 years)
Worked five years in the multinational company, I acquired skills in analysis and communication. The role also widened my networking with external organisations.
"Your skills in statistical analysis and communication are highly desirable in our organisation," said Mr Chua with an attempt to headhunt me, "think about it and contact me. Here is my business card."
Mr Chua was the Managing Director of a UK-based consultancy organisation. The conversation took place in a lobby where I met Mr Chua after he had promoted a consultancy project to my then company.
Mr Chua's business card did not end up in a dustbin. Instead, it opened a door for me to explore the outside world. After attending a formal interview, I was offered a position as a consultant with the consultancy company. I was 31. My role was to provide consultancy services to organisations in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, and India. The services included advising and assisting organisations to get their organisations certified to the International Standard called ISO 9000, and providing technical training such as Failure Modes and Effects Analysis (FMEA), Statistical Process Control (SPC), and Design of Experiments (DOE) to their employees.
In a business trip to New Delhi, India, I was chauffeured.
"I feel pampered having a driver chauffeured me from a hotel," I thanked the manager.
"It is our pleasure inviting you to teach our engineers about Statistical Process Control and Design of Experiments," the manager replied courteously.
Twenty engineers attended my five-day training. They were attentive and interactive.
After being chauffeured back to the hotel, I spent my evening in the hotel watching a fashion show put up in a grand lounge.
"Are you surprised seeing some of these pretty Indian models having fair skin?" a waiter, in his twenties, asked me in a strong Indian accent after he placed a well-presented plate of Tandoori chicken and a small glass of red wine on my dining table.
I nodded with a smile.
"These pretty models come from different parts of India," the waiter explained.
"Enjoy your meal, Sir."
The 'Sir' greeting was quite commonly used over there. I enjoyed. I meant the dinner and the fashion show, not the greeting as a 'Sir'.
On my flight back to Singapore, I reflected on my career. I enjoyed my professional status and the recognition and respect that I gained from my clients and colleagues. In tandem with my career advancement, I accumulated some wealth. But, I still felt that I had not achieved something deep seeded in my heart.
Meanwhile, my part-time Master degree course at the National University of Singapore resumed. I attended the evening class.
"Most of us live for 25550 days in average," a Chinese taxi driver mumbled. He had deep wrinkles on his forehead which I could see from the front mirror in the taxi. He could be in his sixties.
I was taking the taxi home after attending an evening class. Sitting on the back passenger seat, I was wondering whether he was mumbling to himself or speaking to me.
"I guess that you mean an average human lifespan," I responded anyhow.
"Yes, if we are lucky we have 25550 days or more. Some people have less," he continued in a sober voice.
After exhausting my brain with statistical numbers, I finally found a few neurones to work out what he meant. He was using statistics to express a Chinese saying i.e. "A human has an average lifespan of 70 years."
"We are born with a stack of calendars that contains 25550 days, more or less. We are spending these invaluable days without realising their depletion. If we don't make full use of the days, they are simply gone! 25550 is not a big number, do you agree?" he continued emphatically. Again, unasked.
I nodded in affirmation.
"Many years ago, my mother died when she was 70, and now I am getting close to the age," he continued in a sad voice.
"I am sorry to hear this," I attempted to empathise him.
I couldn't find out the cause of his mother's death and console him any further as the taxi screeched to a halt when I signalled him that I had reached my destination.
I saw his tear-filled eyes when I handed my taxi fare to him.
The story of 25550 days crept into my head. My Ah Ba passed away when he was 59; he lived 21535 days. And, I had spent 11315 days then! How many more days had I got?
I was reflecting on my life goal. Would I want to realise my childhood ambition?
How?
If I did not take action to find out any possibility to study medicine as a mature student, I would never have a trace of hope to realise the ambition. I decided to take action.