The Asian reporter. (Portland, Or.) 1991-current, January 04, 2016, Page Page 6, Image 6

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    OPINION
Page 6 n THE ASIAN REPORTER
January 4, 2016
Volume 26 Number 1
January 4, 2016
ISSN: 1094-9453
The Asian Reporter is published on
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Publisher Jaime Lim
Contributing Editors
Ronault L.S. Catalani (Polo), Jeff Wenger
Correspondents
Ian Blazina, Josephine Bridges, Pamela Ellgen, Maileen Hamto,
Edward J. Han, A.P. Kryza, Marie Lo, Simeon Mamaril,
Julie Stegeman, Toni Tabora-Roberts, Allison Voigts
Illustrator Jonathan Hill
News Service Associated Press/Newsfinder
Copyright 2016. Opinions expressed in this newspaper are
those of the authors and not necessarily those of this publication.
Member
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n Wayne Chan
The proverb non sequitur
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MY TURN
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phone number on all correspondence. Thank you.
am a beacon of wisdom. I am a pillar of
intelligence. Go ahead, ask me anything.
OK … maybe I’m not all that right at the
moment. But, trust me, it’s just around the corner.
I’m now 51 years old, and if you believe what is in
the movies, Asian men, as they get older, seem to
acquire a wisdom and sageness that can overcome
any adversity. No matter how complicated a
problem, an older Asian man will have the perfect
answer, and it will usually come in the form of a
proverb that is incredibly deep and overwhelmingly
profound. The proverbs sound something like:
I
A cat who eats too many birds may
find itself unable to scratch its back.
A raindrop falls from a cloud as happily
as the wind blows from the east.
A child laughs only once
if a frog turns to stone.
Now, I don’t know what any of that means, but I’m
not supposed to — I’m not a wise old man yet.
But it’s just a matter of time — I figure in about 15
years I’ll check back to those proverbs, gently nod
my head in agreement, and think, “Yes, of course.”
If I believe what I see in the movies, by about
2030, I’ll start wearing round, wire-rimmed glasses,
have the requisite goatee, and apparently my skills
in martial arts will grow exponentially to the point
that I’m kicking the butts of adolescent bullies in
high school at the drop of a hat.
It’s about time, too. I can’t wait until this
miraculous transformation begins, because over the
last few years, my IQ seems to have dropped
precipitously. Maybe it’s just a temporary dip before
I enter my wise old sage years.
Not long ago, I needed to scan and e-mail some
documents for my stockbroker in order to make
changes to one of my accounts. All I had to do was
print my name, date the documents, list my title as
an owner of my company, and then sign my name on
the bottom line. Like most people, I’ve done this
type of thing a million times.
Easy enough. I filled out the form, sent it back,
and moved on to the next thing on my daily to-do
list. But soon, I received a call.
“Mr. Chan, thank you so much for filling out the
paperwork and getting it back so quickly,” my
stockbroker’s assistant said. “But, you missed a
couple of things. Could you review the document
and get it back to me?”
“Of course,” I replied. I figured I’d inadvertently
overlooked something. Quickly scanning the page,
it looked like I missed the part where I was
supposed to list my business title.
Easy enough. I sent the page and moved on with
my day.
Except that I received another call.
“Mr. Chan,” she said, “Thanks for listing the title,
but it looks like you forgot to include your signa-
ture.” Looking back at the document, I did indeed
miss my signature on page one of the document.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’ve signed it and you should
see the completed document in your inbox now.”
I was thinking, “I need to be a little more careful
about this. Oh well, live and learn.”
Then she called back.
“Mr. Chan,” she said. “Thank you so much for
signing the first page, but the last page also needs
your signature.” So I signed the last page and sent it
back.
The phone rings again. Apparently I signed the
wrong line on the last page. After fixing that, she
called once more — I also missed the date on the
first page.
I sat at my desk with my hand on the phone for 20
minutes waiting for another call. Apparently, I
finally managed to get it right. It only took five
phone calls for me to correctly fill out the forms. I
apologized each time she called, but I was running
out of logical excuses to keep her from thinking I
was a blithering idiot.
Ah well, what can you do? You know what they
say:
A man walking down a winding path
can sing like a dolphin but never
in a squirrel’s presence.
Opinions expressed in this newspaper are those of the authors and not necessarily those of this publication.