Betting on Emily, Part Deux

What do you mean she's still at her desk?

Let me first state the obvious. I hate losing. Especially bets.

I’m a bit Singaporean that way, I’ll shamefully admit. The infamous “Kiasu” mindset. Though thankfully it doesn’t always rear its ugly head. I’m usually quite happy pottering about, minding my own business, lost in the pretty pink Commonweatlh of Nations that exists in my head.

Just don’t ever put money on the table when you hand me a challenge. Cos that’s a sure fire way to tempt the Singlish-Speaking-Green Eyed Monster out of hibernation.

Case in point : The last time someone bet 50 bucks that I would never fit into a size 30 jeans, I didn’t just take up the sodding challenge. I bloody turned anorexic. And went from a size 46 to a size 29. Just because I could. Nuff said.

But I digress....

So as luck would have it, HR found me another Emily late last month. I've been assured by HR that she's a keeper. This guarantee, I have no doubt, came about as a result of my less-than-enthusiastic review of their candidate-hunting abilities the last time they tried to shove a candidate my way. She was on the job for less than three whole days. To say that I was disappointed would be putting it mildly.

Gleaming references from a large firm downtown. The only firm she’s ever worked with since she was 22, apparently. And she’s pushing 35 now, mind.

Nonetheless, when news broke that she accepted the offer from the firm, I downplayed any hope of this candidate staying for longer than 72 hours. History has thought me well after all. But my fellow colleague, HY, wasn’t so sure. He reckoned this one might well last a little longer, seeing that she:

(1) didn’t graduate from a local university;
(2) had more than a cursory ability to communicate in English; and
(3) didn’t have that “lights are on but no-one’s home” look during the interview.

I on the other hand, argued that:

(1) she still looked for all the world like a civil servant, complete with the obligatory explosion-of-colour baju kurung. All she needed was a name tag to complete the look;
(2) she had a copy of Kosmo! on her desk the first day she reported for work; and
(3) she had that "deer-in-the-headlights" look when I said I needed her to fetch me a latte. Nods of comprehension only came about when I said I needed "kopi". *groan*

My expectations were pretty dismal, in other words. But HY wouldn't have any of it. He bet 100 bucks that she'd still be at her desk come end of the month. I doubled the bet. History was on my side.

EmilyFour, as I’ve now come to call her, reported for duty on Monday last week.

I’m rather perversely disappointed to note that she was still at her desk on Friday when I left the office.

Dammit.

I say it again. I hate losing bets.

Time to really go all Miranda on her, I reckon....*snigger*