Fabian Lua | Making sense of my days

Until six months ago, I stood firmly on the other side of the divide, believing that yoga is not for guys - and therefore definitely not for me. I resisted using the common defence mechanism that yoga is at the same time too light a workout and too serious about stretching.

Even now, practising yoga as a guy continues to be a conversation killer. When someone asks if I went to the gym, my reply that I just finished a yoga class typically invites silence or a polite but contorted smile. And once, a female colleague responded with "I prefer to take part in macho sports."

I'm glad I got past worrying about what others think. Try this as a guy: walk into a class full of ladies wearing tights, receive their curious glances, then proceed to be the most inflexible person in class. In the case of inexperienced instructors, add a situation where the teacher gets surprised by someone as stiff as you.

I'm glad I realised the secret to getting good - dropping the competitive mindset against others but pushing my own limits while being comfortable in my own skin.

I was twelve when I first received the advice that "loving what you do is more important than doing what you love." Back then, I dismissed that suggestion as coming from someone who is old and cynical. I thought I should only pursue what I love, and skip what I don't. Now I see it as important for me to not avoid doing what I don't love yet. 

With yoga, the initial dislike of the discomfort gave way to a maturity in dealing with the discomfort. Everything else in life - work, personal relationships - might benefit from the same. Slowly but surely, I got better. A pose I thought I couldn't deal with has recently become effortless.

It brings to mind the idea that "it is easy for you but it is hard for me." A lot of times we defensively dismiss someone's effortless ability as something we cannot achieve. But maybe it is because we never worked for it.

I'm thankful that I've more or less made yoga a ritual for myself now, practising at least every other day.  It has given me calm and focus in a job that requires me to be composed and to have a clear mind.  More importantly, it keeps me sane and fresh despite being desk bound for too many hours.

Two random sentences from my instructors come to mind:

• “If you can’t do it slow, you can’t do it fast."
  My instructor was trying to tell me that I wouldn't be able to launch into a crow pose or headstand quickly if I cannot manage to do it extremely slowly. It really reminded me that the path to being really good at something involves lots of relentless practice, persistence and being honest to myself.
  
  
• “Loud noises don’t scare you when you’re relaxed."
  Something had collapsed in the room when our eyes were closed in meditation. Yet no one had any significant reaction. It makes me realise that the way to navigate tough options in life and work is to be relaxed about it.  It doesn't mean you don't care or you are not invested in the outcomes.  It simply means you're able to create a better outcome.

I never thought I’d write a love letter to yoga, and the old me might have been surprised at the new me. But I'm glad to say that yoga is saving my life.  And yes - hello from the other side.

How successful will you be in your 50s? When you’re younger, you might look to older alumni from your university to glimpse into your future.

A week ago, I was featured on The Guardian for my side-project Architecture Walks Singapore. The article gave me the opportunity to thank ten design places that inspire me. Naturally, being interviewed was a joy.

Around the same time, the organiser of an event that brings professionals across various industries and nationalities invited me speak. I thought it was a great opportunity for me to learn from participants knowledgeable in other fields - I did not hesitate in saying yes.

Then I realised the event venue was a restaurant that serves Shark's Fin soup.

Things are so easy-going when your personal views and professional activities are aligned. But what happens why they are not? Would declaring 'views expressed are my own' sufficiently separate personal opinions and company policy? With everyone given the tools to express ourselves today, everyone has become a public figure of sorts and a representative of our organisation. No one would quite care if you have already made the 'this is my personal opinion' disclaimer.

Do you then silence your private thoughts to protect the organisation's interests?

Two experiences I had recently in a purely personal environment taught me the answer.

During the Hong Kong Umbrella Movement, one of my friends shared a photograph of students repurposing plastic bottles into masks to shield themselves against the tear gas used by the police. One commentator, probably thinking of the Great Pacific garbage patch, stated harshly that "plastic has no place in our world." That comment reminded me to take a step back and understand the bigger picture. Otherwise I might make harsh comments that fail to see the good side of things.

And I was mindlessly scrolling down my Instagram when I saw a friend posting happy pictures of seeing a Killer Whale in a theme park. My knee-jerk reaction was almost to comment 'Haven't you watched Blackfish??' 

It reminds me of the lyrics from John Mayer's song 'Belief'

Is there anyone who ever remembers
changing their mind from the paint on a sign?
Is there anyone who really recalls
ever breaking rank at all
for something someone yelled real loud one time?

Ultimately it is not about the conflict between your private view and company's interest. It is about what your goal is, and how you go about achieving it. Too many people fight for what is 'right' without care for collateral damage, and without trying to understand why people do what they do.

I am still going to speak at that event, and I would not request for a venue change, especially after I realised that the organiser also owns the venue. I have not thought about how exactly to effect change in this case, but at least I know that boycotting the event, the venue or the organiser is not the way to go.

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Read next: How to say what you mean to say

Photo from Flickr / xanboozled

1. Explain what you do
   When people look at my business card, they are impressed because the title "General Manager" sounds important, but they often follow with the question "so what do you do?"
   
   I have learned to explain to everyone - customers, friends, my team - what exactly my role is. I have realised that above all, my role is to make sure the entire team is firing on all cylinders.
   
   
2. Remind everyone why we're doing what we're doing
   It is easy to get lost in the execution when you're hacking away at it day-to-day. I get my team to pull back and zoom out now and then to remind ourselves of the higher goals we're heading towards.
   
   
3. Manage by influence, not by authority
   You can never and should never try to control the people who work for you. You'll never have enough time, and you can't earn their respect. Everyone has a different style, so exerting your authority backfires.
   
   Instead, I try to set clear expectations so my team wouldn't have to second-guess what success looks like or what's in my mind. They then also feel empowered to make informed decisions without having to consult me.
   
   
4. Don't be the bottleneck
   I have learned to always share not just what to do but also how to do it and even more importantly - why. The point really is to let everyone do their jobs and remove obstacles, including myself.
   
   And in small ways: if they need a document signed, do it immediately because you're likely to forget otherwise, and become a bottleneck.
   
   
5. Be approachable to a fault
   Regardless of how many times you say an organisation is flat and hierarchy-free, there is still an inbuilt sense of boundaries, especially in Singapore.
   
   I have learned how important it is to encourage my team to share their minds openly with me, including telling me how to be better. Even then, I think they hesitate.
   
   
6. Roll up your sleeves
   The buck stops at you.  Being a General Manager is about making sure that even the most unsexy operations keep moving on.
   
   
7. Meet the standards you set
   It is easy to set high standards, like punctuality. It is harder to ensure you don't break your own rules.
   
   Even in the other directions, like working flexible hours and locations, you have to take the lead because otherwise no one would dare to do it.
   
   
8. Gain visibility, but be yourself
   I'm an introvert, and prefer not to be in a room of strangers. Yet it is important to gain visibility for your product via your own profile. But just remember to do it your own way, and be yourself while doing it.
   
   
9. Be proud, but be humble about your product
   Share the strengths of your product proudly, but be like a piñata when people bash your offering - hand them a smile and some candy, and learn how to make things better.
   
   
10. People first, always
    I'm only as good as my team. I try to make sure they're happy with their jobs, are able to see personal growth ahead of them and are motivated. Celebrate even the small successes, and give them credit instead of fighting with them for it.

And of course, easier said than done.

This blog post was written in 20 minutes. Again I'm trying to convince myself to write more, and it seems like the best way is to tell myself it doesn't take much time.

The piñata analogy is from Get Satisfaction.

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The db Bistro burger at the Marina Bay Sands Singapore: sirloin patty, stuffed with red-wine braised short ribs and as a statement - foie gras, held by sturdy bamboo picks between a toasted parmesan bun. Sinful enough for a last meal, and therefore, dying for a wine pairing.

Since that burger is built for making the news, I can't imagine any table not ordering at least one burger. If my memory serves me right, all five at us couldn't help but order that same burger. Hey, makes the job easy for the waiter. And also makes my usual task of selecting the wine easier - theoretically.

Beef - clearly a red wine. And with the onslaught of fattiness, saltiness and savoury from the burger, a wine intense enough to stand up against it, possibly a Cabernet Sauvignon, or a blend that has Cab, like a Bordeaux. That is where the price constraint kicks in. My friends love me, but they would kill me if I made them split the bill for any wine priced far north of $100. And supposedly restaurants mark up Bordeaux, Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay the most because diners recognise them the most.

It didn't help that the wine list ran hundreds of labels long, and there were wines by-the-glass that cost more than wines by-the-bottle at white tablecloth restaurants elsewhere.

I would usually ask the sommelier for recommendations. I generally don't dine at expensive places, and some like me would have the misconception that the sommelier is their enemy. They imagine that dude has a sales target, a commission and bottles of wine going over the hill.

But they forget the sommelier has a reputation, and that his aim might be to ensure you enjoy your first bottle enough to continue with a second, or to return to the restaurant. Moreover, margins are actually the thinnest at the high-end restaurants. Restaurants can only mark up expensive wine so much before the diners balk.

And the sommelier-is-my-enemy camp forgets they can choose how the interaction goes. For example: ask the sommelier what wine the chef braises the short ribs with. That helps you select your wine.

Better to seek some expert advice, then to make your decision, than to order blind and end up with wine you don't like (and still pay for it).

All that said, I don't think I asked the sommelier that evening. Because I had spotted an ideal candidate - a Malbec from a Catena family owned vineyard in Argentina. I remember a gorgeous Tahuan Malbec by Ernesto Catena.

As a more obscure grape varietal, the price was right. The other good thing about ordering underdogs is that the sommelier couldn't have put the more obscure bottles in the list unless he or she loved it.

After that evening, at least one of my friends loved the Malbec enough to make the effort to find out who distributes it. He also discovered that the mark-up at db Bistro (priced at $100) was one time more than it retails for (priced at $50). Not bad considering most casual places sell supermarket bottles that can be bought for $15+ for $50+ (that's more than 3x).

To be honest, if you ask me for the exact flavour profile of the wine or the burger, I can't quite remember. I just remember lots of laughter, the inky dark purple, almost black Malbec staining our teeth, swirling the wines like we thought the experts would, inhaling deeply the fruity smells, letting each sip linger since we don't pay so much for wine every day, having difficulty holding the burger up, warm and comfortable service from the team, and for me - wondering why on earth the Catena family keeps putting pyramids on their wine labels.

If you haven't been to db Bistro, I would recommend striking that original burger off your bucket list, and having a Malbec with it. And bring friends - they are the best wine pairing or burger condiment you could ask for.

I'm insanely jealous of Taipei because they have 24-hour bookstores. The last time I visited, I took a red-eye flight and headed straight to an Eslite to gorge on books. Even though I had my luggage with me, I still bought five books.

I'm starving in Singapore because there isn't a Chinese language version of Books Actually. I used to think that Bras Basah Complex, known colloquially as "City of Books 书城" and historically the home of Chinese bookstores would remain a haven.

But over the years the bookstores started stocking stationery and of course, assessment books, 10-year series, past-year examination papers aimed at helping students score at standardised tests.

The mothership of the stationery plus test books extravaganza is Popular Bookstore 大众书局. But since it has four floors at Bras Basah, I thought I had a chance at buying the rather popular novel Decoded 解密 by Mai Jia 麦家. 

Arguably readers have moved online. Me too - most of my reading is done on my Kindle app. But the question I feel for Singapore is that we don't even read, physical books or e-books. Let alone Chinese books. Chinese is probably regarded as a school subject best left behind after Secondary School or Junior College. Unless of course, that job opportunity requires you to brush it up.

I'm not the first to say this: that's why we Singaporeans are good at passing tests but terrible at things that require creativity and passion. In the end I had to contort myself through all the barriers Amazon China set up to get the book on my Kindle. Then I realised I have a new problem - no one to discuss the book with.

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This was written in 10 minutes. I'm trying to write consistently, and it seems like the way to do that is to convince myself it doesn't take much time.

Being really skinny, I'm used to friends who haven't seen me in a while imagining that I got thinner even as I maintained the same weight. But tonight was the third time in one week that someone told me I lost weight, so I had to take her word. 

Today also happens to be the day I've been with Peatix (an online ticketing and registration service) for one year.

Don't get me wrong, I know my statistics - correlation does not imply causation. Still, I have been unintentionally skipping meals because I was at events. Somehow my body is unforgiving of debt. Once I've missed a meal, it doesn't properly acknowledge the food that comes after.

I'm working on making sure I don't skip meals. I stock snacks for me and my team. I also get as much sleep as I can. Getting a startup product somewhere is not a dash but an ultra-marathon.

Having no time to eat isn't the tough part of my startup job, much as I enjoy my food. 

The tough part is when organisers tell me issues I can't yet solve for them. I love the people who speak up - they really are your best customers. They come from a great place - from the concern they have for their ticket buyers. And actually they are also concerned for you, otherwise they will just walk away to a competitor. It is frustrating for them, and for me, to not be able to fix things in the short term. I'd like to think I'm not a proud person - even then the experience is very humbling.

Yet that might be what a startup is about. A startup is flawed because it is slightly ahead of the curve. It is trying to figure out what exactly it should be. It is a work-in-progress. The polished, finished products, those giants - they dominate today, on the flip side they are expiring more quickly.

My time in my previous start-up Viki has given me great perspective - how to keep the faith and push on with a product when it is still beta, how to empathise with all the parties from users to customer support to BD to marketing to dev who are all trying hard in their own ways, how to communicate so that people know where you are coming from. It also taught me to enjoy the ride.

My year with Peatix has been crazier then I signed up for when I came onboard to launch Peatix in Singapore. I am now the General Manager in Singapore, with the privilege of working with and nurturing three teammates with incredible attitude. I have met countless organisers who inspire me with what they are doing, whether they run a bookstore, organise meals for locals and migrant workers to mingle or put up plays. Sometimes when I look at what they're doing I am so moved. Really Singapore and the world has hope. I have been blessed by the openness and kindness of people. I've met people who just refuse to budge from the status quo. But more importantly I've met those who were willing to come with us to forge a new path.

I had thought I would write an epic, exhaustive blog post when I reach my one year mark, documenting one-by-one all the highlight events of the year that passed. But I'm grateful today that I think back and it has been a blur of laughter, friendship, changing my mind about things, failing then getting up again, knowing when to let go, being more spontaneous, and being thankful.

It recently dawned on me that because I go to events of all sorts these days - from a 'post-hardcore band's gig' to 'Japanese sit-down comedy' to 'exclusive launch party', not only do I get affirmation that Singapore is really exciting, I get glimpses into how a wide range of people live and what they love. I am so lucky.

My submission to the FiveFootWay "Magical Spaces" project in 2007, writing about the porch in my old Katong home.

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"But what was in the space?"

"All things," the young man answered.

"Our dog under Pa's car, the dog bowl, Ah Ma's and Ma's plants competing all over the place, last year's Ang Paos still fluttering on them in shades of red, wind chimes, the overhang of our neighbour's mango tree, slippers that revealed who's home."

"When the car is out, Mimi the dog would stretch and run - fill up the space. Sometimes mangos fall ripe, sometimes they fall because mynahs pecked at them. Their fragrance fills up the night air, and bats - yes eventually I realized they were bats - swooped around. At least that's my memory of it."

"But what else? Surely there was more?"

"Small pools of wax, filed even smoother by shoes skating by. The wax from the Lantern Festival candles. Ma was always worried we would set the house on fire, so we were only allowed to play there. Mimi wouldn't come close to the flames. He's actually male, but we got him when he was already eleven - we didn't get to name him. When we wanted him to sound macho, we called him 'Ah Mi', like 'Army.' Haha, imagine that. He's a great dog. People always asked me what breed he was. You know, that's what people care about - the breed. I have endless stories but they just want to know the breed."

"I guess he's just another dog, Pavlovian and all. Even before I took Psychology 101, I tried to trick him into running towards me for a photo. Of course, tapping the dog bowl worked."

"How's he doing?"

"Well that must be more than ten years ago. I wonder how he liked to be under the car. We had a kennel that we never used it much. I hate to admit this, but sometimes I played those skipping games with my two sisters. A kid neighbour always spied on us jealously, and we nicknamed him "Pong Pong" after that buoyant fruit. We also gave the mynah with recurring baldness from fights a nickname that is too embarrassing to tell you. We would yell 'Pong Pong' and that confused Mimi. He would bark at us, thinking it is a game."

"You guys weren't kind - to neighbour or animals."

"Well I guess my compulsive e-mail checking habit came from running to the mailbox every half an hour to see if there is any new mail, although we would see the postman pause at our door when cycling by if there really was. But partly because my Ah Ma would randomly comment that she thinks she saw or heard the postman. Thinking back, perhaps she knew that we liked to dash to the mailbox. It probably took us just ten seconds, the dash - that was how small the space was."

I'm passionately curious about life events that change trajectories. And I've had a few of those moments: studying at Penn and MIT in the United States and K.U. Leuven in Belgium, switching from a stable 'scholar' career track at an established firm (Singapore Airlines) to a (then) upstart company (Viki) that didn't even seem like it was based in the right location (Singapore, not San Francisco).

So even though I'm not a startup poster boy, I've been lucky to have the benefit of experience that would be useful to others starting down certain paths. That's why I give talks - it is my way of giving back. You can never start too early in giving back.

This post is essentially an invitation to organisers - if you're looking for a speaker, maybe I can help by being one. I'm particularly interested in speaking to these three groups 1) youth / students 2) people at a transition point of their lives 3) curious polymaths.

In the past, I've spoken about:

• Growing Startups across Geographies at MIT Tech That Matters Series 
  
• Singapore is a hub for startups and technology, but startups founded or based here cannot afford to restrict hiring or innovation to Singapore. Fabian shares personal and practical lessons learned from helping startups like Viki and Peatix grow across geographies.
  
• 7 things I learned from having a beer (and my 90 beer caps collection) at BarCamp Singapore 6
• Have you ever wondered why is it that twist off beer caps have not taken over the world?
• The Price is Right: Ticket Pricing and Human Behaviour from the Airlines’ Perspective at BlinkBlank #11
  
• Ever wonder how air ticket prices could vary so dramatically? How do airlines decide on pricing? In this talk, Fabian Lua won’t quite go so far as to “Break the Airlines Code”, but he will give some insight into airlines’ approaches to figuring out how much consumers are willing to pay to travel. He will also share some anecdotes that reveal the lengths people go to score cheap tickets and find loopholes in the system.
  
• As you can imagein, I got into some trouble giving this talk. 
• Dogfooding: A Product Manager's Best Friend at Hackers & Painters 
• Fabian Lua (@fabianlua) talks about when Product Managers need to "eat their own dog food".  The talk will cover lessons learned from building a set of new subtitling tools at Viki ("global TV site powered by a volunteer community of avid fans").  Fabian is currently the Community Growth Manager at Peatix and was Product Manager, Community at Viki.
  

Related experience I have:

• Guided architecture walks (my own project) and art walks in Tiong Bahru and Marina Bay (with OH! Open House)
• Co-organised talks at TEDxSingapore, TEDxMITClubSingapore, MIT Enterprise Forum Singapore, Backstage Pass at Peatix etc. Attended conferences like TED Global.
• Attended lots of talks series like Creative Mornings and Pecha Kucha Night.
• Essentially I'm familiar and comfortable with different formats, and have seen a bunch of great talks.

Other topics I can talk about:

• Hacking the wine list. About how to choose the best value wine from a restaurant menu. Because I prepared this talk halfway but never gave it.
• Being Singaporean in a tech startup. Because there just aren't enough Singaporeans venturing out to startups.
• Taking a scholarship or not, and career choices / transitions. Because I was a Singapore Airlines scholar, and jumped to a tech startup.
• Startup culture, and culture in startups, including working remote. This is a topic I'm passionate about.
• Becoming a product manager (or moving from being a product manager). Because that's what I've experienced.
• Stroke happening to someone close to you. Because my dad suffered from a sudden stroke.
• Architecture in Singapore. I'm not an architect, but I'm a fan.
  

The easiest way to start a conversation is to leave a comment below. I don't know where this will go, but I'm just putting it out there!

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Related post: Help others wholeheartedly (How I network)

My dad was a man of routine. Even when we had dozens of cable channels, he would watch just one. And naturally he had his favourite parking lot. It fulfilled several criteria, including being closest to his apartment block but slightly off the pathway. He wanted to minimise his walk but was also worried that a random passerby would damage his car.

When I started borrowing his car, I would sometimes get back too late to score that lot. It annoyed him. I felt a combination of guilt and also self-righteousness that life isn't about adjusting your schedule for a parking lot.

It is easy to mock a person of habit. Boring, predictable, unspontaneous. But I realised that is probably why some of his friends and customers loved him - the other name for boring is reliable.

My dad was a mechanic. After he suffered from a stroke, I took over maintaining the car. And I'm still struggling to find a workshop I can trust. (Unfortunately my sisters and I never got down to learning from my dad). At a car workshop, usually the customer knows so little relative to the mechanic - the information asymmetry means it has to be a relationship of trust. I supposed my dad never ripped people off, that's why he had customers who returned for more than twenty years. I once hit the side skirt of the car and brought it to my dad's friend's workshop - they refused to take any payment when they saw my dad's car.

Someone asked me recently why I'm so punctual when most Singaporeans are habitually late. That's because my dad never wanted people to wait for him, and trained us to do the same.

And for those who have asked me before how I can be so hardworking, I have to say that I don't think I work as hard as my parents did. His hands were often full of unattractive grease, but it was those coarse, blackened hands that helped raise us with honest hard work. My dad never had a fancy corner office, but he taught me much more with his favourite parking lot.

Rest in peace Pa.

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Image: "Hands" by Benjamin Lehman

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In one stroke

Shocking, unacceptable but true: drivers in Singapore don't give way to ambulances! I was waiting for the elevator late at night on September 11, 2012 when I saw two paramedics wheeling a stretcher towards it - so I let them go first.  They thanked me..continued