Chapter 2 - Job Application

After 8 years of doing stuff I don't care for, it's time to try something fun. Maybe I read too many PI stories or maybe it has been building up ever since I watched 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit' (1988). 


So, this is the cover letter I sent out today.


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Dear Sir,


Application for Position of Private Investigator


I am writing to express my keen interest in the position as advertised in XXX on XXX.


Although I do not have any PI experience, I hope to make up for it with my intelligence, street savviness, wit and people skills. Some skills - like 'quick on-the-spot thinking' and 'coaxing information from strangers' - are particularly important to this job and are cannot be taught; although for some, they can grow with years on the job. At the risk of sounding cocky, I believe I was 'born-ready with PI skills'. 

My financial background may not impress you, so I relate below a true short story that shows my early predisposition towards a career in detective work.


When I was in Secondary 2, I stayed in a hostel where we generally kept door and drawers unlocked as that was the spirit of the place back then. A kampung-like trust of neighbours. Naive I know, but hey, I was 14 and idealistic. One day in 1993, I found out that SGD200, or my 4 month allowance, was missing from my drawer. My 2 roommates and I narrowed down the list of suspects very quickly - one of our neighbours across the corridor had just moved in 2 months ago and had extravagant spending habits. 


Nobody ever confesses unless confronted with irrefutable evidence, so we knew we had to have solid proof before the showdown. We spoke one of his 2 roommates, an Indonesian we decided we could trust, who revealed to us our suspect's hitherto well-concealed dubious track record at his previous hostel. The next morning, my roommate and I skipped school to plant a 'bug' at the window near our suspect's bed. We had to scale ledges and I actually missed my footing in the process, dangling Stallone cliffhanger-style for 2 seconds before hauling myself back up.


When we retrieved our Sony walkman recorder in the afternoon and transcribed the contents, we knew we had our boy. In Cantonese, his second roommate (his cousin) said, "Ngo chi hai lei zhou ke, dan hai ngo mm mui tong yan ho yan kong ke". With the help of their cooperative Indonesian roommate, we conducted a search of their room while the other 2 left for school. The crisp blue notes were rolled into a sock which was stuffed in the battery compartment of a table fan. We copied down the serial numbers and put the money back in place.


That night, when our suspect returned, we knocked on his door, supported by a resident-mob who felt angry that the atmosphere of trust has been betrayed. We were conducting a door-to-door search, we said. He didn't ask for a warrant, or maybe we stormed in before he protest. We made a show of it, before zooming in on the fan. As the cash was extracted, my brother (who came up with this idea), said that we should match the serial numbers against the numbers our father had obtained from the money-changer when he changed the ringgit to Singapore dollars.


Before the mob could mete out punishment vigilante-style , the hostel master and spoilsport arrived.


Regarding the transportation requirement, I do not currently posses a motorcycle, but fully intend to purchase a Vespa S 125 (in black so that it is inconspicuous) should I be offered this position. I already have a valid Class 2B motorcycle license, which is good enough for the 125cc Vespa I am eyeing. 


Looking forward to having a discussion with you to take this forward.


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Oh, and besides this application, I also applied for a copywriter position with an upscale adult novelty toy shop. Yar, not many of them around in Singapore. 


Wish me luck!