Month: November 2025

🌏 The Race We Won but Didn’t Win – The Amazing Race, Pak Chong Edition

/ Wen / Leave a comment

This year, our company held its annual team cohesion overseas. A chance to step away from our screens, breathe fresh air, and strengthen bonds beyond project deadlines. We flew to Khao Yai and landed in Pak Chong, where the highlight of the trip was none other than an Amazing Race–style adventure.

We were divided into teams, armed with clues, and unleashed across the town to complete missions and challenges. My team hustled hard, decoding clues, racing through checkpoints, and pushing forward together. And we didn’t just do well, we actually reached the final destination first as mentioned by the facilitator.

Naturally, we thought we nailed it. Victory felt certain.

But during the prize presentation, our confidence turned into collective confusion.

The results were announced… and our team wasn’t called.

Wait. What?

Cue the puzzled looks, awkward laughs, and that quiet “Are we in the wrong universe?” moment.

The hidden criteria mystery

When we asked the organiser what happened, the explanation came and let’s just say, it left us scratching our heads even more.

Apparently, the results weren’t just based on who finished first. There were some hidden criteria such as things like teamwork, creativity, photo-taking, and the way we executed each task. None of these were mentioned before the game began.

So even though we sprinted across every checkpoint and crossed the line first, we somehow ranked lower because… we didn’t “look fun enough” doing it?

It’s like running a marathon and being told you didn’t win because your stride lacked creativity.

My honest reflection

I was just not satisfied with the explanation given the facilitator. In hindsight, it’s easy to laugh, but also a reminder about how life, and work, sometimes operates.

You can follow every visible rule, move efficiently, and still find out later that the unseen expectations were what mattered most.

Is it unfair? Maybe.

But it’s also deeply human.

Not every finish line measures speed; some measure style, collaboration, and spirit, even when you don’t know they’re being scored.

And if that’s the lesson, then maybe the real “Amazing Race” wasn’t about the competition at all, but about learning how to move together, even when the rules are unclear.

Moral of the race

You can’t always control the rules. But you can control your attitude when the outcome surprises you.

And in this case, we might not have won the prize, but we sure earned the story.

More than that, I’m truly glad to have spent time with my two dearest remote web developers – the ones I usually only see through calls and dashboards. This precious photo I really treasure a lot and it’s the moment money can’t buy.

After all, no leaderboard can measure memories like these. I genuinely hope that my competitive streak can be softened a little; moments like this remind me that the real victory lies in connection, not competition. Probably I need to work on that.

That Night My Name Felt Heavy And Honest

/ Wen / Leave a comment

There’s this quiet moment right before a tech enhancement launch.
If you’ve ever shipped something you built with your bare hands and stretched nerves, you know it.

That tiny breath.
That hush in the soul.
The “please let it work, please let it land” kind of silence.

I had one of those recently.
Months of planning, refining, re-testing, ripping things apart, and rebuilding with tired eyes and tired fingers. Finally, the button was pressed.

Enhancement features went live. Ship completed. The tech team did it.

For one heartbeat, I felt light.

This flashback happened on 22nd October 2025.

And then feedback began rolling in.
Not applause – questions, bugs, suggestions, sharp edges I hadn’t anticipated.
Suddenly, the air got thick.

Not because anyone was harsh.
But because I am harsh with myself.

The celebration never arrived.
A small ache appeared. the kind that presses right behind your sternum.

A quiet breakdown, not dramatic, just a soft collapsing inside.
A thought whispered, “I should’ve made it perfect, BUT… It’s not perfect.”
Even knowing perfection is a horizon we never reach, the voice came anyway.

Today, I stumbled upon a TikTok clip of Elon Musk being asked about the secret behind his success – and how he manages to pursue the impossible without losing his mind.

He didn’t talk about genius or strategy.
He said something painfully simple:

Most people do just enough to get by.
But imagine if everything you did carried your name on it.

And that line didn’t just hit, it got settled in me.

Because that’s me.
I don’t “get by.”
I don’t “try enough.”
If my name is on it, my soul is in it.
I build as if every feature, every word, every decision is a signature.
Not for my ego, but for my integrity.

When I care, I care to the bone.
I don’t coast. I don’t cut corners.
Whatever I don’t know, I try to learn.
Whatever isn’t working, I try to fix.
Whatever I build, I want it to stand.

So that night, when things weren’t perfect?
It wasn’t just a system glitch. It tugged at the core of who I am when I had a slightly bruised heart.

I can’t refine when we don’t release it.
We can’t improve something that never sees the daylight.
Feedback isn’t a mirror of inadequacy; it’s some proof of movement, proof of users, proof of life.

And maybe, just maybe, growth doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes it looks like sitting alone at a bar, feeling tired but satisfied with the attempt, quietly resetting your spine.

We live in a world that romanticizes “perfect execution.”
But some of the most beautiful work isn’t flawless. It is about the iterative, resilient, and honest.

My name is on my work.
And that means something to me.
Not perfection, it’s ownership.

So here’s to the enhancement launch that shook me a little.
To the feedback that humbled me.
To the glass of calm I held while breathing through disappointment and resolve.
To the version of me that showed up anyway.
And to the version that will show up again.

I don’t want to be someone who does “just enough.”
I’d rather get tired from giving my all than be comfortable from giving half.

And if sometimes that means a crack in the armor and a quiet tear on launch day?
So be it.

That’s the price of having your name on your work and your heart in it, too.

Do with courage and humility.
Feedback is not noise; it’s real gathered data, it’s empathy, it’s partnership.
Reframe it to improve every version of me,
not because I chase perfection,
But because I honour the process.