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© Joyce Rachel Lee-Bates 2007-2016. Powered by Blogger.

 

 

Why Do I Love Structures and Think in Systems


Flexibility doesn't mean zero planning.


Over the years, I have occasionally described myself as a control freak at work, not in the sense that I need to make every decision or dictate every detail, but because I have always felt uncomfortable when people begin executing a piece of work without first agreeing on a clear plan.

If there is one thing that consistently raises my stress level, it is ambiguity.

We often hear that good leaders should be flexible, adaptable, and willing to change course when circumstances require it.

However, I disagree that flexibility means zero planning. Structure matters a lot to me.

Therefore, I believe I am not reacting to a change of plans but rather to uncertainty that could have been reduced through proper or structured planning.

Am I planning for too much?


Whenever I delegate work or work with a team, I naturally gravitate towards a structure: defining the objective, the scope, the timeline, and what the outcome should look like before we begin.

I like knowing who is responsible for which part of the work, what decisions still need to be made, what assumptions we are making at the start, and when the deadlines are.

I have occasionally wondered whether that makes me difficult to work with.

From my observation, there are people who seem perfectly comfortable beginning with only a broad objective. They start doing, observe what happens, and refine the work along the way. Sometimes they produce excellent results despite having no detailed plan at the beginning.

I have always admired that ability because it is so different from the way my own mind works.

If someone gives me an objective that feels abstract to my understanding, my first instinct is not to accept it.

My first instinct is to ask structured questions:

Who are the decision-makers? What exactly are we trying to achieve? What are the expected outcomes? What constraints are we working with? What is our approach if issues arise?

To me, those questions are not obstacles to getting work done. They are part of the work.

Isn't structure necessary?


One misconception about people who enjoy planning is that we dislike change. That has never been true for me.

In my line of work, Google updates its algorithms, clients change priorities, budgets get revised, top management changes, and campaigns that looked promising last FY may no longer be relevant today.

I have no problem changing direction when new information becomes available; what unsettles me the most is changing direction when the direction was ambiguous in the first place.

There is a difference between adapting because circumstances have changed versus improvising because no one thought through the approach before starting.

The first is flexibility; the second is often avoidable confusion.

To be fair, being structured isn't about predicting everything.


One of the lessons I have gradually learned is that planning and certainty are not the same thing.

A good plan does not guarantee success, nor does it prevent unexpected events from happening. The purpose of structured planning, at least from my perspective, is to reduce the amount of unnecessary uncertainty.

When a team has already agreed on the objective, the scope, the assumptions, and the expected outcome, everyone has a common reference point. If something changes halfway through, the discussion becomes much easier because people understand what is changing and why.

Without that shared understanding, every adjustment feels like starting the conversation from the beginning.

Perhaps that is why I have always felt more comfortable investing time in planning than spending even more time correcting avoidable misunderstandings later.


Some people think before they act. Others think by acting.


Recently, I started wondering whether this is simply a difference in how people process information.

Some people, like me, organise our thoughts internally before taking action. We ask questions, identify risks, build a mental framework, and only then begin executing.

Others seem to discover the solution through the act of doing. They are comfortable taking the first step without knowing every subsequent step because they trust themselves to adjust along the way.

I guess neither approach is inherently right or wrong; perhaps both approaches are necessary.

If everyone gravitates towards structures and systems the way I do, projects might become over-analysed before anything ever gets started.

If everyone prefers to figure things out as they went, there might not be enough structure to keep larger projects consistent.

Perhaps the real challenge is not deciding which style is better, but recognising that different people reduce uncertainty in different ways.

Maybe this is why I don't understand "just wing it".


For years, I interpreted phrases such as "We'll figure it out" or "Let's just start first" as a lack of preparation.

I am beginning to wonder whether that was an unfair assumption.

Perhaps some people genuinely think more clearly once they begin moving.

Just as I need structure before I can act confidently, they may need action before they can see the structure.

Understanding that has helped me become more patient with people whose working style differs from mine.

At the same time, it has also helped me understand myself better.

I don't think I need control for the sake of control. I think I simply find comfort in reducing ambiguity wherever possible.

A plan, to me, has never been a rigid document that predicts the outcome.

A plan is a shared understanding of what we are trying to achieve, why we are approaching it that way, and how we will recognise whether we have succeeded.

The plan may change tomorrow. In fact, it probably will. But I would still rather begin with one than begin with none.

Perhaps that doesn't make me a control freak after all. 
Perhaps it simply means I think in systems.

Why The Thursday Murder Club Made Ageing Look So Interesting

Image source: Wikipedia

I watched The Thursday Murder Club on Netflix the other night. It was star-studded – Helen Mirren, Ben Kingsley, Pierce Brosnan, Celia Imrie, David Tennant, and Tom Ellis, to name a few.

It was entertaining too; there were murders to be solved, plenty of amateur sleuthing, a retirement village full of personalities, and a group of older people who were far more capable than anyone around them initially assumed.

The biggest entertaining gem for me was how the movie portrayed ageing. Because it neither portrayed ageing merely as inevitable physical decline nor disguised ageing with inspirational messages about "staying young and not looking your age".

Instead, The Thursday Murder Club showed something I think we do not see often enough on screen: people who have aged, accumulated experience, lost things, lived through things, and are still curious about the world.

Retirement Does Not Mean You Stop Being Useful


The Thursday Murder Club consists of four retirees who spend their Thursdays looking into unsolved crimes. Joyce is a retired nurse. Elizabeth is a former intelligence operative. Ron was a trade union activist. Ibrahim is a psychiatrist.


Elizabeth understands strategy and how people behave when they are hiding something. Ibrahim understands psychology. Ron knows how to confront people and mobilise others. Joyce understands people in a quieter way. She observes, listens and often gets information precisely because people do not see her as threatening.

Their careers may have ended, but their knowledge did not disappear. I really liked that.

We tend to associate usefulness with employment. Once someone retires, there is almost an assumption that the productive part of life has ended and the remaining years are mainly about leisure, healthcare and grandchildren.

But a person who has spent forty years practising medicine, teaching children, running businesses, solving problems, caring for patients, raising families or managing difficult people does not suddenly lose all that knowledge because they no longer have a job title.

Experience does not expire at retirement.

The Characters Are Old, and That Is the Point


Another thing I appreciated was that the movie did not try to make ageing look youthful. The characters are older, and the story allows them to be older.

They talked about health concerns, grief, illness, and how time is no longer unlimited. But none of those things cancel out curiosity, humour, intelligence or purpose.

There is a common way of praising older people that sounds something like, "She is 75 but still behaves like she is 40!" It sounds complimentary, but underneath it is the assumption that being younger is still the ideal.

The Thursday Murder Club offers a much more interesting possibility:

What if seventy years of living actually makes someone more interesting?

Ageing and becoming less relevant are not the same thing.

Joyce Was Probably My Favourite


I also have to mention Joyce, and not only because we share the same name. Hahaha!

When she first joins the group, she seems like the least intimidating member of the club. She is docile, friendly, and very ordinary when compared to Elizabeth, who appears capable of organising an international espionage operation before breakfast.

But Joyce has her own kind of intelligence. As a former nurse, she understands people. She notices small things, she listens, and because she does not immediately look like the smartest or most dangerous person in the room, people underestimate her.

That actually becomes an advantage.

You know what? There is something very satisfying about watching a character whose strength comes not from being loud, dominant or obviously brilliant, but from decades of paying attention to human beings.

Perhaps This Is What Interested Me Most


Perhaps the most obvious reason for why I immensely enjoyed this movie is that I have become increasingly interested in what happens as we move through midlife and eventually into older age.

There is so much conversation about ageing from a medical perspective. We talk about disease prevention, physical decline, healthcare costs, retirement planning and longevity.

All of those things matter.

But there is another question that interests me just as much:

What happens to identity?
Who are we when the titles start disappearing, and when are we no longer the manager, the doctor, the teacher, the business owner or the person everyone calls when something needs to be solved?

The Thursday Murder Club gives a surprisingly simple answer:

You are still the person who spent decades becoming who you are.
The job may end, but the expertise remains.
Stay curious, stay relevant.

My Post-Convocation Lunch Introduced Me to Miao Cuisine


A few days after my convocation, I wanted to celebrate with lunch somewhere different. That search led my sister and I to MIAO at IOI Puchong Mall, a restaurant serving Miao cuisine from Guizhou China. I have heard of Sichuan, Hunan, Cantonese, and Yunnan cuisine, but Miao cuisine was completely new to me.


What Is Miao Cuisine?


I did some Googling and learned that Miao cuisine comes from Guizhou Province in southwest China and is closely associated with the Miao ethnic minority.



One of the defining characteristics of Guizhou cuisine is its use of sour flavours, often created from using fresh herbs, chillies and preserved ingredients, creating dishes that are flavourful without necessarily being overwhelmingly spicy.


Sour Fish Mini Hot Pot


The restaurant's signature dish is its Guizhou Sour Soup Fish Hot Pot, so naturally, that became the centrepiece of our meal.


The soup had a pleasant sourness that was quite different from the tom yum soups or assam-based broths that many Malaysians are familiar with. The flavour was lighter than I expected and became more enjoyable after a few mouthfuls.




The hot pot came with one whole freshwater fish, tofu skin, enoki mushrooms, and Chinese cabbage. Cooking everything at the table made the meal feel more festive, and the ingredients absorbed the flavour of the soup very nicely.



Stir-Fried Deer Mushrooms



Alongside the hot pot, we also ordered the Stir-Fried Deer Mushrooms. Despite the name, this dish contains mushrooms rather than deer meat. Apparently deer mushrooms are named after their appearance and are commonly used in Chinese cooking.


The mushrooms were stir-fried with garlic, leeks, and red and green chillies, giving the dish a savoury flavour with just enough heat. The texture was slightly chewy, making it a nice contrast to the softer ingredients in the hot pot.


The Drinks



We also ordered the Guizhou Specialty Tamarind Juice and the Signature Passion Fruit Drink. The tamarind juice had a pleasant balance of sweetness and tanginess, and the passion fruit drink was equally enjoyable and offered a lighter, fruitier option. But perhaps next time, I will opt for normal sweetness instead of the less sweet version.


Build Your Own Guizhou Ice Jelly Bowl



One of my favourite moments at the restaurant was the complimentary Guizhou Ice Jelly station.




You get to build your own jelly bowl by choosing from a selection of toppings. There were grass jelly, colourful jelly cubes, popping boba, red beans, mung beans, peanuts, crunchy toppings and various sweet syrups.



This was the highlight of the meal as I filled my bowl with a little bit of almost everything. The combination of chilled jelly, beans, crunchy toppings and syrup made for a refreshing dessert after the hot pot.


I thought this was a nice touch because it made the dining experience a little more interesting. Rather than serving everyone the same dessert, each person could customise their own bowl according to their preferences.


If you're feeling adventurous and would like to explore a different side of Chinese cuisine, MIAO is certainly worth considering.


A Master's Degree, A Family Photo, and an Unfinished Dream


On paper, 22 July 2026 was my convocation day. I officially graduated with a Master of Marketing from Sunway Business School, Sunway University, through Sunway University Online, and received the Tan Sri Sir Jeffrey Cheah Scholastic Award for academic excellence.

More Than a Convocation Day


Emotionally, the day was never only about the scroll, the robe or the award. It was also about returning to an unfinished dream from 23 years ago and finally taking the family photo I once did not get to have.

I was not graduating as a fresh graduate in my early 20s but as a working mother in my mid-40s, with a husband, two children, work responsibilities, family commitments, and a very full life outside the classroom.

This was not the kind of academic journey where studying was the main thing I had to do. It was something I had to fit into the spaces between everything else.

So when the day finally came, it felt like more than a ceremony. It felt like visible proof of all the invisible effort that had taken place quietly behind the scenes.

The Photo I Did Not Have 23 Years Ago


One of the most personal reasons I wanted to pursue this postgraduate journey was not only academic; it was also emotional.

I wanted to wear the graduation robe and take a photo with my own family.

That may sound simple, but for me, it carried a memory from 23 years ago. When I completed my undergraduate studies at Universiti Malaya, I did not manage to take that graduation photo with my parents because life and circumstances were different back then. I moved on, as people do, but I think some unfinished things quietly stay with us even when we do not talk about them often.

Over the years, that small missing moment remained somewhere in my heart. It was not a dramatic regret, but it was there. A photo that never happened and a milestone that was completed but not fully captured with the people who mattered.

This time, I was certain I wanted a different ending.


I wanted my husband and children to be there. I wanted that photo not because I needed to prove anything to them, but because they are such a huge part of this season of my life. They are the people who live with the daily version of me, not only the polished version who appears on convocation day.

In a sense, when I finally wore the robe and took photos with them, it felt like I was not only celebrating the Master's degree. I was also gently closing a loop that had been open for more than two decades.

Studying Again as a Working Mother


Completing a Master's as a working mother in my mid-40s was no easy feat. I do not say this to make it sound more heroic than it was, but because it is important to acknowledge the reality behind adult learning.

Studying at this stage of life is different. You no longer have the luxury of being only a student. Your mind is constantly divided between work, family, health, responsibilities, deadlines, bills, meals, school runs, and the many invisible tasks that come with being an adult and a parent.

There were times when I had to switch quickly from work mode to study mode and then back into mother mode or when I had to finish up assignments when what I really wanted was sleep. I sometimes did wonder why I was doing this to myself when life was already busy enough.

But the honest answer is this: I love it.

I love the learning, thinking, analysing ideas, connecting patterns, asking better questions, and challenging myself academically throughout the journey. I love the feeling of stretching my mind and realising that I am still capable of growing in ways that are not limited by age, job title, family stage or life season.

In many ways, this Master's journey reminded me of a part of myself that has always been there, i.e., the part that enjoys studying not because it is easy but because it gives me a sense of meaning, and I love finding satisfaction in understanding something more deeply.

Why Academic Excellence Mattered to Me


Receiving the Tan Sri Sir Jeffrey Cheah Scholastic Award made this journey even more meaningful.


I know awards do not define a person's worth, and achievement is never the full measure of a life. But I would be dishonest if I said this recognition did not matter to me deeply.

There is something powerful about being recognised at this stage of life. In our 40s, many of us are already used to being responsible, capable and practical. We often do what needs to be done without expecting too much applause. We keep the household running, meet work deadlines, show up for our children, and manage the emotional load of many things at once.

So when recognition does come, it can touch a deeper place than we expect.

For me, the award was meaningful not because it made the journey valid, but because it reminded me that effort, discipline and persistence do matter. It reminded me that academic excellence was not something I had left behind in my younger years; I could still return to study, do it seriously, and complete it well.

It was an honour to receive the award on stage from Professor Dato' Elizabeth Lee, Group CEO of Sunway Education. That moment will stay with me for a long time.

More Than a Qualification


Looking back, this Master's journey gave me much more than a qualification.

It gave me confidence and intellectual energy and reminded me that learning is still one of the places where I feel most alive.

It helped me reconnect with a part of myself that enjoys academic challenge, critical thinking and the discipline of doing something properly.

It also made me wonder whether academia may be a path I can one day contribute to meaningfully. I do not know yet how that path will unfold, and I am not rushing to define everything too quickly. But I know that this journey has opened a door in me.

It has reminded me that some interests do not disappear simply because life becomes full. Some dreams do not expire. They simply wait for the right version of us to return.


Done and dusted, for now.

Once a Sunwayian, always a Sunwayian.