My professional career began onstage with the Singapore Armed Forces Music & Drama Company (SAF MDC), where I did my National Service.

I was an artiste – I had to sing, dance and act. Our purpose at MDC was to entertain the troops, to uplift and inspire; and to communicate key messages pertaining to Nationhood and Total Defence. We performed more than 250 times in a year, and when we weren’t performing, we were rehearsing and taking lessons in singing, acting, contemporary dance, stage production…

We were led and taught by the crème de la crème in Singapore’s performing arts scene. I had the privilege to train and perform beside some of the best performers Singapore had to offer. We performed everywhere – in military camps, in malls, in the outdoors, on the streets, even at the National Day Parade.

It was gruelling, at times great fun, and extremely rewarding. I picked up so many life skills….

Discipline and determination, for starters – aka “practice makes perfect”. Our artistic director was a visionary but harsh disciplinarian. We had to get that dance move just right; perform that complex piece of choreography again and again until it was perfect. There was so much pride and professionalism in all that he did; we couldn’t but learn, in turn, to be always professional, and to take pride in our work and ourselves.  

Performing for a live audience: a full-suite of technical skills. How to engage your diaphragm and project your voice. How to improve your posture, enhance your lines (in dance parlance), and cultivate stage presence. How to read your audience, sense their energy and respond accordingly so you win them over. How to properly groom yourself; make yourself presentable on-stage and in front of the camera.

An openness to take on any role and opportunity, and do the best that you can. In my time, I’ve performed as a “bro” in military uniform, as a dancer in leotards, as part of a boy-band and as a soloist, as a backing singer and backup dancer, costumed up as a mascot or a blink-and-you-miss-me cameo in a street parade. All sorts – whatever was thrown to us! – we took the gig, and did our best.

Most important of all was the collective understanding – an ethos, really – that THE SHOW MUST GO ON. However rubbish you’re feeling, whatever you’re going through behind-the-scenes, you show up (at work), get on-stage and perform with a smile. Whatever’s going on backstage – differences between fellow artistes, or cast and crew – everyone pulls together for a common purpose: to delight the audience and put on a damn good show.

I would file all these skillsets under SHOWMANSHIP: yet another convenient, catch-all term. It’s a basket of skillsets and a CORE VALUE that has served me well in the twenty years since I graduated from the MDC.

*  *  *

I’ve always loved the theatre. When I took on my first job at the former Ministry of Information, Communications and the Arts (MICA), I was so excited. I thought I’d be getting my hands dirty in the business of arts and cultural policy, particularly performing arts policy.

Instead, I was thrown into the “Corporate Planning Division” – something so completely alien and amorphous (so it felt at the time). The division was run like McKinsey – nobody was there to help or advise. You were expected to just run with it from the start. There were moments at the beginning where I felt so lost and confused. I would sneak out to cry in the toilet on occasion.

My big boss then – the Permanent Secretary – was charismatic, visionary, and thus also an exacting task master. I had the chance to work with him on many of his high-powered presentations, and featuring the many new strategies he initiated (the Creative Industries Plan, Design Singapore, National Marketing…) – he was way ahead of his time.

His PPT slides had to be perfect – I would edit them again and again, often working punishing hours, sometimes overnight, till they were just right. He’d give me a non-exhaustive list of books to read, written by the big names in Strategy, Leadership, Organisational Development, Management, Marketing, etc. I even had a chance to work with some of these thought leaders.

By the time I finished my stint, I had picked up an MBA in all but name. I also gained other types of skillsets related to SHOWMANSHIP. I became a very good facilitator, for example – I ran countless brainstorming, strategic planning and consultation sessions, where I learnt how to listen hard to what people said, synthesise divergent views in words, charts and visuals, and rally/align people around a common vision and purpose.

*  *  *

When I joined the National Heritage Board in the 2010s, I was again thrown very quickly into a role that I least expected. As Director (later Group Director) of Corporate Development, I was Chief Operating Officer in all but name, overseeing all aspects of Corporate Services.

I declined the position three times before finally accepting. My boss at the time persuaded me to see this as an opportunity: I had to have these practical skills if I ever wanted to lead an organisation. I mean… I really didn’t want to lead anything, but I ran with it in the end.

I oversaw Corporate Governance, Board Matters, Finance & Procurement, Human Resources, Marketing, Public Relations & Corporate Communications, Facilities Management, IT & Digitalisation, Operations & Crisis Management, Revenues & Merchandising, Strategic Planning (SP) & Organisational Development (OD), and more.

I knew almost nothing about any of the Corporate functions (except SP & OD, which was my forte). All my colleagues – the Heads of the various Departments who reported to me – were much older and more experienced than I was. One even told me, straight to the face, that they should have had my position.

The seasoned performer in me decided that I had to put a HUMAN FACE to Corporate, a rather opaque, unfeeling and impersonal sort of entity.

I positioned myself as Internal Spokesperson and Translator. I strove to deeply understand the ins and outs of all aspects of Corporate, in order that I may “translate” what my expert colleagues were saying – they were all brilliant and hardworking specialists, mind you – into everyday language that non-Corporate colleagues would understand.

If I don’t understand it – so I told my colleagues – nobody will. So help me understand.

I grew to be the organisation’s Trusted Internal Spokesperson. Along the way, my colleagues taught me all they knew. I learnt everything about leading and running a large organisation.

*  *  *

My next role was unexpected too – yes, this is obviously a recurring theme. It came out of the blue. When my predecessor first suggested it two years before he stepped down, I pooh-poohed it.

This is ridiculous, I said. Me?? Leading the museum? Puh-leese. I’m going to scoot off to wander the world again next year. 

When he asked again just before he left, it took a while before I accepted. I was terrified. I held fast to my core value of SHOWMANSHIP, even as I reeled from fear and anxiety.

MY MDC past proved critical to survival. I was trained to perform to a public – so I did, treading the floorboards as confidently as I could. I instinctively knew how to hold and enrapture an audience. I already had the ability to think on my feet, speak on the cuff and react on the fly. I learnt how to do all of this in a split-second – something you do when presenting elevator funding pitches, or taking media interviews on live television, or convincing someone very famous to work with you.

All the other skills I’d learnt at MICA and NHB Corporate were also put to good use – I won’t elaborate. Already a seasoned Internal Spokesperson, this time I grew to become a Public-Facing one, putting a Human Face to an arcane and inscrutable organisation.  

This time I was also the exacting taskmaster, embodying, imparting and demanding SHOWMANSHIP from the museum and its professionals. In a different guise, no doubt; but the key elements were there. A sense of pride in one’s work and profession. The pursuit of excellence in one’s craft. An openness to opportunity and experimentation. And the central ethos of simply showing up.

Whatever our differences, whatever happened back-of-house, everyone always pulled together to fulfill our common purpose and calling – the very reason we exist as artists, entertainers and cultural professionals: to inspire, enlighten, uplift, provoke and delight our audiences with the very best work we can do.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON.  

*  *  *

The show goes on for me too. Having exited Act III, I’m now contemplating Act IV of my professional life.

To quote the Bard (from AS YOU LIKE IT):

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts…”

I’m confident I’ll land a part that’s intriguing and just right for me. I suspect it’ll be a role that everyone – including myself – least expects. Actually, I hope it’s a role that’s not obvious at all, so I can take to a new stage in a starkly different guise!

I’d hate to be predictable. After all, one must expand one’s range, in order to grow as a Performer.