“Where are you working now?”

Boom.

That’s the question.

It arrives before the bak kwa plate finishes one round. Before the pineapple tarts settle in your stomach. Before you even sit down properly.

“So… where are you working now?”

And just like that, you become the reunion dinner entertainment. The spotlight switches on in the middle of the living room. The abalone suddenly feels harder to swallow.

If you are jobless, you cough and reach for the orange.

Then the well-meaning advice starts flowing like orange juice.

“Must try harder.”
“Don’t be so choosy.”
“Nowadays companies want young people.”

Everyone becomes a career coach after two glasses of soft drink.

Companies say they are hiring.
Job seekers say they are applying.
Both sides say they cannot find the right match.

Meanwhile:

Graduates deliver food.
Seniors drive taxis.
Aunties and uncles clear tables in hawker centres.

Some elderly cardboard collectors will tell you they do it for exercise, to stay active instead of sitting at home.

Sometimes finding a job feels like musical chairs. When the music stops, there are fewer chairs than people.

You can be qualified.
You can be experienced.
You can be hardworking.

Still no chair.

So what do you do?

In the old days, people sold kueh from baskets. Bread from bicycles. Curry puffs under the block. The shop came to you.

Today, you need a license even to sell tissue paper on the street.

I am a senior. A breadwinner. And I am currently without a traditional job.

I tell myself this:

A job is one way to earn a living. It is not the only way.

No one owes us a living. But we also do not owe anyone shame.

If you cannot find a job, try to create one.

In this game of musical chairs, maybe the smartest move is not to fight for a chair.

Maybe it is to bring your own.