In this week’s newsletter, I write about a father and son whom I encountered on a train, and in turn, the role of the writer who sees everything but cannot always speak up. I also recap what I wrote about the memoir writer whose job is being wiped out by AI, measuring underground routes, restricting social media usage, helping jobseekers learn how to use AI, keeping jobs with proof of AI-usage, and passing on ancient advice from my first boss.

This week, I write about a father and son whom I encountered on a train and in turn, the role of the writer who sees everything but cannot always speak up. But first, a recap.

What I wrote this week

Second most popular post: Which underground route is faster from City Hall MRT to Suntec City? I actually measured the difference.

I don’t think it’s possible to do a complete digital detox but we can severely restrict our use of dopamine-dosing social media with easy tools on our phone and computers.

I have always enjoyed presenting at roadshows. This time, I was sharing with jobseekers how to use Gen AI to work on their resumes and interviews. This was part of the “Your Career Health Matters” roadshow organised by Workforce Singapore and SkillsFuture Singapore.

A friend called me during dinner to ask for help to prove she was using Gen AI at work.
I passed on a 28-year-old piece of advice from my first boss to a young person I just met.

An evening with Nir Eyal, and reflections on the labels that limit us.

The most recent gathering of Electric Minds.

A new AI hairdo for the Hair Force Chief. You’d get the joke only if you read local SG news.

I aspire to be the Banksy of lottery booths.

20 books that shape my life

Book 5 is Spark Joy by Marie Kondo

Book 4 is Learning How To Learn by Barbara Oakley and Terrence Sejnowski.

Here’s the compilation of previous books.

Sunday Essay

A man and his son entered the MRT train. Immediately, I sensed that something was unique about the boy. He gripped a smartphone in one hand and looked around the train carriage with a mix of curiosity and worry. The boy sat down on the empty seat next to me and his father remained standing. I smiled at the boy but he didn’t seem to notice me. The father was wearing a lanyard with a nametag that said “Hi, I’m autistic” and I figured that he was wearing it on behalf of his son.

Now, I’m generally against young children having smartphones because by now, we all (should) know that handphones stifle their mental development and cause anxiety. But I don’t tell strangers in public how to live their lives. In this case, I was also wondering how the boy would use the phone – he was just flipping through the app windows as if they were cards and he was not reading the content. Perhaps the animation of scrolling cards comforted him.

Then, I looked at the father and noticed two things that made me sad.

First, his forearms were covered in angry scratches that had dried into thin scabs. My first assumption was that it was the boy who had hurt him. But was it someone else, or had the man himself who inflicted the wounds? Observe, I told myself, do not assume.

Second, the man had dark skin tags on his neck. Skin tags are small growths on the skin that hang off the body. They are usually harmless and painless, but they can be a sign of pre-diabetes. When the body develops insulin resistance, it produces more insulin, which can cause the growth of skin tags.

Was the man aware that he was possibly at risk of diabetes? If diabetes afflicted him, would it not add to his burdens? But what could I possibly say as a stranger on the train? The answer was nothing. I teach public speaking, but unless there is injustice, I preserve the peace and keep my thoughts to myself.

The train neared my stop. As I walked out of the train, I thought about the lives of the father and his son. Perhaps this is why people choose to look at their phones all the time when they are on public transport. Why be a busybody, observe others and wonder about their circumstances? But that’s what I do on trains. I observe the tapestry of life and we are each threads that crisscross each other, unlikely to meet again.

Yet I know I can make a change in his life through my writing. If you are reading this, and you know a person who has developed skin tags, please ask them to see a doctor. Perhaps the person may even be this same dad that I met on the train.