It doesn’t really matter what a person do or don’t do in Singapore,

It’s just your voice,

It’s just your face,

In short-

It just boils down to whether we like you or not.

You want a job?

Sorry, we have too many resumes in our computers,

You know how we sort out resumes?

We look at your photographs,

And you know what- we laugh at some of your faces.

That woman- look at her face!

She looks so low-class!

And look at the way she projects herself,

Unlike me- so high-class,

So poised.

I will use my magic,

To make young pretty girls cry in the office.

You know something?

I have a fetish for seeing young little things cry.

It makes me feel like a man!

And of course, some of our daughters look at your resumes and laugh,

“Secure” in their positions,

With probably lower qualifications and street-smarts than some of these “prospective” employees,

This woman- masters har?

Most Singaporean women with masters and above can never get a high salary in Singapore’s private sector.

Unless you know what?

Unless you are us lor!

So highly educated and so idiotic,

Study so much for what?

You low-class girls think education can give you a leg-up in society?

Ha! Ha!

This employee,

Work so fast,

I don’t need high quality employees,

What I want-

Is submission and obedience.

You know what?

I want to make this girl earn a high hourly rate and a lot of money.

You know- men don’t like girls who earn more than them.

Then I can marry my girl to this boy.

Marriage has always been the way for harmony between different families,

And my girl likes this boy mah.

This person,

The face I want to slap,

Just ignore her lor,

Just leave her to die,

She sure cannot make it one.

You know who I am?

I am high-class, slim and polished,

And I pamper my little boys and girls,

My little boys and girls deserve the best.

I am-

One of the Singapore employers.