"Mornings became darker after the Winter Solstice. Have you noticed that?" My buddy, Hui (not her real name) remarked not two days ago.
I couldn't sleep but the solstice had nothing to do with it. This morning, I rose at o-dark thirty and rocked in the garden with a cup of coffee and some biscuits. A light rain softened the crisp morning air and birds were chirping merrily despite the dismal drizzle.
Life is good, I thought as my mind meandered in the darkness, turning this way and that, until it found Mr Ng. (Not his real name.) It was only yesterday when I told his story.
Mr Ng was a cook at an obscure restaurant downtown but that was long before I entered his story. He was married with four kids. They occupied a modest home in the suburbs. Mr Ng was thin, agile and unassuming. His file described him as hardworking and honest. Business was brisk. He was earning good money and then some.
Someone taught him about the quick bucks to be made at the Stock Exchange. Big dreams required lofty plans. Margin trading was inevitable. He bought a better house on a bank credit.
The stock market crashed. Unable to meet margin calls, he had to sell his business. His loan turned bad. The property bubble burst. His house was foreclosed under unfavorable terms. The proceed wasn't enough to cover his loan. Legal proceedings for bankruptcy was initiated. His wife left him and his children joined foster homes. He found another job dish-washing and boarded with his new employer. His loan was restructured and he began the long arduous repayment scheme.
It was a couple of years before he came to me. By this time, he had nasal cancer.
I was touched by his plight and felt a strong compulsion to highlight his case. Spending a little more time than I normally would considering my work load, I sat down to dissect his story. It culminated in a status report subtly crafted to draw empathy.
The NPL Committee wrote off Mr Ng's loan. I never got the chance to tell him. I left before the written approval came.
I shall never know what compelled me to write that report. Suffice to say, all of us played a tiny role in the grand scheme of things. When we are called for a purpose, we obey. Everything happened for a reason.
Mr Ng was a cook at an obscure restaurant downtown but that was long before I entered his story. He was married with four kids. They occupied a modest home in the suburbs. Mr Ng was thin, agile and unassuming. His file described him as hardworking and honest. Business was brisk. He was earning good money and then some.
Someone taught him about the quick bucks to be made at the Stock Exchange. Big dreams required lofty plans. Margin trading was inevitable. He bought a better house on a bank credit.
The stock market crashed. Unable to meet margin calls, he had to sell his business. His loan turned bad. The property bubble burst. His house was foreclosed under unfavorable terms. The proceed wasn't enough to cover his loan. Legal proceedings for bankruptcy was initiated. His wife left him and his children joined foster homes. He found another job dish-washing and boarded with his new employer. His loan was restructured and he began the long arduous repayment scheme.
It was a couple of years before he came to me. By this time, he had nasal cancer.
I was touched by his plight and felt a strong compulsion to highlight his case. Spending a little more time than I normally would considering my work load, I sat down to dissect his story. It culminated in a status report subtly crafted to draw empathy.
The NPL Committee wrote off Mr Ng's loan. I never got the chance to tell him. I left before the written approval came.
I shall never know what compelled me to write that report. Suffice to say, all of us played a tiny role in the grand scheme of things. When we are called for a purpose, we obey. Everything happened for a reason.
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