The Next Stone Phillips (my hero)
I am finally back in Shanghai, after what was supposed to be a three week vacation in Shenzhen (including a pit-stop in Hong Kong to take the LSATs) turned into a two month hiatus from my new home. Not that I am seeking much pity, since all I did was watch DVDs and work on my golf-tan while my comrades back in Shanghai were freezing their ass-hairs off. Sometimes, the best things just happen to the most undeserving of people.
However, stress has crept back into my life as I begin searching for a job, something I haven’t seriously done since my first semester of my last year at Berkeley. Actually, it wasn’t an effort that many people would consider calling “serious.” Now that I think about it, “half-assed” is a much more appropriate description.
Example: Here was an exchange I had during an interview with the investment bank CIBC.
Eric sits down across from the interviewer, who will hereupon be known only as Asshole Guy.
Asshole Guy: Good afternoon. So you’re interested in working for CIBC, are you?
Eric (smiling): Most definitely. Among all the other interviews I have, this is one of the few at which I am really hoping to perform well.
Asshole Guy: Great, then I’ll start by asking you what the letters CIBC stand for?
(3 full minutes pass in silence)
Asshole Guy: Eric? Do you know the answer?
Eric: Um, the Canadian International Bank of…Canada?
Asshole Guy: Sorry, it’s the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce.
Eric: Should I leave now?
Asshole Guy: Yes.
I’ve had an overwhelming fear of job interviews ever since. I only got the job at Intel because I slept with the CEO, and if I have to resort to using my body again, however lithe and sexy it may be, in order to secure a salary, I may have to up and move to another country. Again.
My point is, the stress is creeping back into my life. In the mean-time, I’m doing some freelance writing work to make some money so that I can buy some long underwear. Apparently, the arts and entertainment editor at the English-language magazine That’s thinks that I’m bilingual, so she called on me to interview the producer of an upcoming play for an article in the March issue. Little does she know that I only know about 50 basic words in Chinese, most of the curse words, but I’ve spent many an hour at home practicing my pronunciation, and at this point I can pronounciate the HELL out of those 50 words. Still, I needed the money, so I agreed to do the interview, and diligently spent a few hours in the afternoon researching how to say “play, actors, inspiration, and burrito” in Chinese (the last one was for my own edification).
Anyway, here’s a little sample of how the interview went from my perspective:
Eric: I’m just wondering what the basic premise of this play is?
Mr. Bai: Sure, we’re trying to dhfjskdhfjsadhfjahdsjfhkasdhfkadfhjhadskjfhjdhfjadkfjhd.
Eric: Uh, I seeeeeeeee…
Mr. Bai: And really, what we’re trying to do is, sadjfhkjsdhfjkahdjfhasdkjfhasjkdhfjakdhfjsdhfjhsfjksadhfasdfjhaksdfjasdkfhaskdfhjasdfkjhadsf
Eric: Ah, I see. Interesting…
Mr. Bai: You have heard of us doing kajsdhfkadhfjkahdsjhfklsadhf before, right?
Eric: That sounds illegal.
Mr. Bai: Excuse me?
Eric: Should I leave now?
Mr. Bai: Yes
It’s all a bit hyperbole, of course, but it just made me realize how much more I need to go before I attain my goal of being the next Stone Phillips of China. First, I’d have to change my passport to reflect my new name, which will take about 4 months to process, and then I’d have to register to become a citizen “of China,” which will take another few years. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.
As I type this right now, I’m staring at the collection of DVDs sitting on my desk: The Simpsons (Complete Third Season), South Park (Volume 8-11), the complete Hayao Miyazaki collection, and the first three seasons of The Sopranos. I did a quick calculation in my head, and after 10 minutes I whipped out the calculator, and after punching a few numbers I surmised that I have about 48 straight hours worth of entertainment sitting on my desk, of which I have watched 24 minutes. Underneath the desk sit about 80+ DVDs, most of which I have yet to watch. I am a man-child literally engulfed with media. Shopping for DVDs has slowly become a dangerous addiction for me. I’ve been back in Shanghai for about four full days now, and have already walked into various DVD stores 7 times now, never walking away empty-handed. I am quite proud of my collection. From the classics (Lawrence of Arabia, The Graduate) to movies that have yet to be released (Dogville, Elephant); from the testosterone-ridden (Ronin, The French Connection) to the meditative (English Patient, The Thin Red Line); from the patently commercial (S.W.A.T., Matrix Revolutions) to the intellectual art-house film (Russian Ark, The War Zone, Backstage Sluts 4); I’ve got them all. And what do I do but spend 4 hours a day on my computer playing Freecell. I’m lousy at utilizing resources, but pretty fucking great at Freecell!
I used to feel bad about buying all these bootlegged DVDs. I once spent $70 (US) at a Best Buy for the entire Godfather DVD Collector’s Edition, and didn’t wince when I saw it being sold here for $3.50 (US). But something funny happens when you’re swimming in a sea of Chinese soap operas and terribly grating variety shows: you learn to shed your own moral chastity belt and just got for it. With no burritos in sight, it’s one of the few connections I have with the States. Guilt dissipates quickly when you’re forced to watch old re-runs of Communist farmer propaganda from the 50’s. Sanity dissipates, too. I guess that’s how the Reds got hundreds of millions of people to wear grey for so long.
However, stress has crept back into my life as I begin searching for a job, something I haven’t seriously done since my first semester of my last year at Berkeley. Actually, it wasn’t an effort that many people would consider calling “serious.” Now that I think about it, “half-assed” is a much more appropriate description.
Example: Here was an exchange I had during an interview with the investment bank CIBC.
Eric sits down across from the interviewer, who will hereupon be known only as Asshole Guy.
Asshole Guy: Good afternoon. So you’re interested in working for CIBC, are you?
Eric (smiling): Most definitely. Among all the other interviews I have, this is one of the few at which I am really hoping to perform well.
Asshole Guy: Great, then I’ll start by asking you what the letters CIBC stand for?
(3 full minutes pass in silence)
Asshole Guy: Eric? Do you know the answer?
Eric: Um, the Canadian International Bank of…Canada?
Asshole Guy: Sorry, it’s the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce.
Eric: Should I leave now?
Asshole Guy: Yes.
I’ve had an overwhelming fear of job interviews ever since. I only got the job at Intel because I slept with the CEO, and if I have to resort to using my body again, however lithe and sexy it may be, in order to secure a salary, I may have to up and move to another country. Again.
My point is, the stress is creeping back into my life. In the mean-time, I’m doing some freelance writing work to make some money so that I can buy some long underwear. Apparently, the arts and entertainment editor at the English-language magazine That’s thinks that I’m bilingual, so she called on me to interview the producer of an upcoming play for an article in the March issue. Little does she know that I only know about 50 basic words in Chinese, most of the curse words, but I’ve spent many an hour at home practicing my pronunciation, and at this point I can pronounciate the HELL out of those 50 words. Still, I needed the money, so I agreed to do the interview, and diligently spent a few hours in the afternoon researching how to say “play, actors, inspiration, and burrito” in Chinese (the last one was for my own edification).
Anyway, here’s a little sample of how the interview went from my perspective:
Eric: I’m just wondering what the basic premise of this play is?
Mr. Bai: Sure, we’re trying to dhfjskdhfjsadhfjahdsjfhkasdhfkadfhjhadskjfhjdhfjadkfjhd.
Eric: Uh, I seeeeeeeee…
Mr. Bai: And really, what we’re trying to do is, sadjfhkjsdhfjkahdjfhasdkjfhasjkdhfjakdhfjsdhfjhsfjksadhfasdfjhaksdfjasdkfhaskdfhjasdfkjhadsf
Eric: Ah, I see. Interesting…
Mr. Bai: You have heard of us doing kajsdhfkadhfjkahdsjhfklsadhf before, right?
Eric: That sounds illegal.
Mr. Bai: Excuse me?
Eric: Should I leave now?
Mr. Bai: Yes
It’s all a bit hyperbole, of course, but it just made me realize how much more I need to go before I attain my goal of being the next Stone Phillips of China. First, I’d have to change my passport to reflect my new name, which will take about 4 months to process, and then I’d have to register to become a citizen “of China,” which will take another few years. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.
As I type this right now, I’m staring at the collection of DVDs sitting on my desk: The Simpsons (Complete Third Season), South Park (Volume 8-11), the complete Hayao Miyazaki collection, and the first three seasons of The Sopranos. I did a quick calculation in my head, and after 10 minutes I whipped out the calculator, and after punching a few numbers I surmised that I have about 48 straight hours worth of entertainment sitting on my desk, of which I have watched 24 minutes. Underneath the desk sit about 80+ DVDs, most of which I have yet to watch. I am a man-child literally engulfed with media. Shopping for DVDs has slowly become a dangerous addiction for me. I’ve been back in Shanghai for about four full days now, and have already walked into various DVD stores 7 times now, never walking away empty-handed. I am quite proud of my collection. From the classics (Lawrence of Arabia, The Graduate) to movies that have yet to be released (Dogville, Elephant); from the testosterone-ridden (Ronin, The French Connection) to the meditative (English Patient, The Thin Red Line); from the patently commercial (S.W.A.T., Matrix Revolutions) to the intellectual art-house film (Russian Ark, The War Zone, Backstage Sluts 4); I’ve got them all. And what do I do but spend 4 hours a day on my computer playing Freecell. I’m lousy at utilizing resources, but pretty fucking great at Freecell!
I used to feel bad about buying all these bootlegged DVDs. I once spent $70 (US) at a Best Buy for the entire Godfather DVD Collector’s Edition, and didn’t wince when I saw it being sold here for $3.50 (US). But something funny happens when you’re swimming in a sea of Chinese soap operas and terribly grating variety shows: you learn to shed your own moral chastity belt and just got for it. With no burritos in sight, it’s one of the few connections I have with the States. Guilt dissipates quickly when you’re forced to watch old re-runs of Communist farmer propaganda from the 50’s. Sanity dissipates, too. I guess that’s how the Reds got hundreds of millions of people to wear grey for so long.