I don’t usually say this out loud because, let’s be real, Singaporeans hate humblebragging, but anonymous Reddit feels like the only place I can be 100% honest without looking like a absolute snake.
There are two types of people in the local workforce: those who just punch in and work within the system, and those who quietly become the system.
I entered service as a government scholar, straight out of a top local uni (NUS/NTU tier). You guys know the drill—the moment you walk in with that badge, the “scholar tracking” expectations are sky-high, but honestly, paper means nothing. Execution is everything.
Early on, HR dumped me into a technical support function. Most scholars would complain about being underutilized, but I just put my head down. I didn’t just do my job; I became the literal fire extinguisher. When things broke down, when workflows stalled, or when colleagues couldn’t close gaps, I stepped in and cleared the roadblock. Over time, that consistency built something way stronger than trust—it built absolute, terrifying reliance.
Then I transitioned into project management, and that’s where the real corporate jungle started.
Projects here are unforgiving. There’s no structure to hide behind, no time to catch no ball, and usually, a severe lack of a strong technical anchor. The gap in my team was massive. So, I filled it.
Method statements, shop drawings, design coordination, critical site decisions—stuff that should have been distributed across three different roles gradually consolidated onto me. Not because of my title, but out of sheer necessity. In Singapore, when the shit hits the fan and deadlines are crashing down, people stop caring about the organizational chart. They just look for the one person who can actually deliver.
And that became me.
There were moments I realized that if I took just one day of annual leave, the project wouldn’t just slow down; it would completely lose direction. That’s a heavy realization—knowing your role is no longer just “supportive,” but the central pillar holding up the tent. I didn’t get there by talking big in meetings. I got there by taking on the arrows nobody else wanted to catch and delivering under pressure without compromise.
So when my promotion and transfer finally came through recently, it didn’t feel like a celebration or “recognition.”
It just felt inevitable.
I’m proud of it, not for the extra pay grade or the fancy title, but because I know the absolute grind behind it. The imposter syndrome I had to crush, the ownership, and the insane level of responsibility that was never formally in my JD, but carried anyway. Let’s be real: not many people can tank at that level for long without burning out.
At the same time, looking at my current project team as I hand over, I do worry a bit. When the entire execution and decision-making apparatus flows through just one person, pulling that person out creates a massive vacuum. Whether the management can recalibrate before things go south? I have my doubts.
But I’ve never been someone content to just sit pretty where I’m already essential and comfortable.
Growth means stepping into the next chaotic environment and doing it all over again. New project, new stakeholders, same standard. If the pattern repeats, I already know how it ends: I’ll step in, take control, and before long, become the axle the whole wheel turns on.
Not for the wayang or the validation. But because that’s simply the level I operate at.
To anyone else holding up an entire department right now: I see you. Stay sharp, and don’t let them undersell your value.