#fuck ceng

[very-important-army]

Snapshots

Pairing: Yixing x Reader Rating: T Genre: fluff, Christmas!AU Word Count: 4k, oneshot

Merry (belated) Christmas! (At least it’s still Christmas in some parts of the world?) Also, I started writing this before Yixing dropped his winter album, so I was so shook when I realized he included the same song in his winter album that I included in his Christmas fic!

“Good morning, baobei.” The greeting penetrates through your sleep, and familiar arms wrap around you as Yixing slips into bed behind you.

“Hmm.” You hum in response, too tired to form words. “What time is it?” you mumble, gravitating towards his warmth.

“A little after seven in the morning,” he replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“It’s too early to be awake on my day off,” you groan, rolling over to cuddle into your boyfriend’s chest. “Did you spend all night in the studio again? You need to stop working yourself to death.” The chastisement is muffled against Yixing’s threadbare cotton tee shirt, and you inhale the comforting scent deep into your lungs.  

Yixing pulls you even closer. “But I gotta provide for us,” he whines.

Your eye roll is lost into his shirt. “Xing, I am more than able to provide for myself — and you! You know what, you should stop working, I make more money than you do anyway.” As one of the most respected orthopedic surgeons in the top hospital in your area, you know that this is more than true.

Yixing hmphs. “I know, it’s so annoying! What do you get the most wonderful woman ever for Christmas when she can buy anything she wants by herself?” He pouts, petulant.

“Oh, Xing,” you laugh. “You don’t need to get me anything!” You grin up at him, big cheesy smile pasted on your face. “All I need is youuu~” you coo, watching his ears turn red, his lips turn up into a shy smile, and his eyes scrunch up.

“Aiyowei,” he whines at you. “Don’t say things like that! Just tell me what you want.”

This stubborn, tender-hearted man, you marvel.

“Really, Xing, there’s nothing I really want or need. You get me random gifts all the time anyway, for no reason at all. You don’t need to get me something just cause it’s Christmas!”

“No, I insist,” Yixing says, pulling you closer. He bats his eyes at you rapidly, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan, weak to his aegyo. You slyly grab your phone, shoving it in his face to take a quick picture of his pouty lips. Yixing’s lips part in surprise, but you cut off his reply. “Fine. Get a me a unicorn,” you deadpan. “A magical, sparkly unicorn.”

“Noted!” Yixing cheers, photo incident forgotten. He pulls the covers around the both of you more snugly. “Now that that’s settled, good night baobei!”

This kid, aish.

“Good night, baby.”

“Goddamnit, Yixing,” you groan to yourself as you find yourself staring blankly at the overwhelming number of guitars on the wall after work. You had found your way into the local music store after Yixing brought your attention to the fact that shit, Christmas was only two weeks away and you still didn’t have a gift for your ever-supportive, ever-thoughtful boyfriend.

“Good afternoon miss, is there anything I can help you with today?”

You turn around to see a tall young man with a shock of bright red hair. Chanyeol, his nametag read. He reminded you strangely of a puppy, with floppy ears and fluffy locks.

“Err..yeah, my boyfriend is a musician, and I’m trying to find a gift for him.” You bite your lip, unsure.

“Are you looking at the guitars?” Chanyeol questions, facing the guitar wall. “We have many different kinds, including acoustic, electric, and classical. What are you looking for?”

“Uh...acoustic?”

“Great!” Chanyeol directs your attention to the left side of the wall. “What type of string and how many?”

You blink at him. “There’s a difference?”

Chanyeol laughs— a deep, full sound.

“It depends on the music you’re playing. For example, different numbers of strings indicate a different range, and different materials produce different sounds.”

You stare at him, then sigh heavily. “Thanks, Chanyeol, but I don’t think I can get him a guitar. I don’t even know what he has at home right now.”

Chanyeol beams at you. “Happy to help anyway! Thanks for stopping by, and feel free to come by if you need any gift ideas for your Romeo!”

Well, that was a complete and utter bust. Back to the drawing board.

“Xing?” You call into the house as you step over the threshold. You shrug your doctor’s coat off as you follow the sounds of running water and chopping knives to the kitchen. You’re met with the sight of a broad back and steaming pots, and you smile at the domesticity of it all. You fish your phone out of your pocket, taking a picture of your boyfriend’s turned back and bowed head.

Hearing the shutter, Yixing looks up from chopping carrots and smiles at you. You can’t help but beam back at him, the day’s stress melting off as soon as you see his face.

“Hi baobei! I’m making dinner! Go shower and dinner will be ready when you come out,” Yixing tells you, puckering his lips and blowing you a kiss before turning around and resuming his preparation.

You smile at his back, and step into the bathroom with lighter steps.

As you step out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, a gust of warm air dispersing behind you, you hear the faint sound of Yixing’s sweet voice drifting down the hall.

“Ni shi wo de ai, zhe cong lai jiu bu ceng geng gai...”

You wander into the kitchen, tasting the distinct scent of Chinese herbal soup in the air. Yixing  approaches you, continuing to sing.

“You shi hou chao chao shuo bye bye, shi wei le mo ni de tou shuo ni gui,” he continues, stroking your wet hair. “Good evening, baobei,” Yixing says, planting a chaste kiss on your lips. “I made you herbal soup for energy! I bet you’ve been tired out at the hospital.”

Your heart fills with warmth, and you wrap your arms around his waist tightly. “What did I ever do to deserve you, you wonderful man?” Yixing merely smiles at you, guiding you to the table where you see two bowls of udon noodle soup filled to the brim.

“Thanks for dinner, Xing,” you say, taking his hand as he passes you a pair of chopsticks and kissing his fingers. “Like always.”

“You said it yourself, love,” Yixing laughs. “You’re the provider of this family, so I make dinner for you every night. It’s the least I could do to show you my love!”

“Hey, baobei.” Yixing approaches you as you’re emailing your patient with details about an upcoming surgery. “I’m gonna go to the studio now, but I’ll be back for dinner,” he tells you, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Alright, see you soon,” you blow him a kiss as you hit send. As soon as the lock clicks behind him, you spring into action.

“Okay,” you take a deep breath, pulling up the recipe for a Changsha-style spicy chicken dish on your phone. “So first I need to wash the chicken...” you talk through the steps out loud, determined not to screw this up.

Methodically, you finish seasoning the chicken. “Okay, I can do this!” You enthuse, trying to bring up your confidence. “Now to slice these peppers...”

You look at the clock. Shit. Where did all the time go? You now only had half an hour before Yixing is scheduled to come home. Hurriedly, you grasp the knife in your hand tightly but unsteadily. Wow, when was the last time I used a knife for cooking?

You bring the knife down, but you misjudge where it lands.

“Fuck!” You drop the knife, looking at your pricked finger. A bead of scarlet blood is beginning to well up, and you curse. Abandoning the peppers, you quickly run to the sink to rinse the blood off your finger. As you paste a small bandage on your wound, you hear the familiar sound of the door opening.

“Baobei, I’m home!” Yixing calls into the house. “Where are you, baby?”

You smile sheepishly at him as he rounds the corner and quirks an eyebrow at the half-prepared food scattered all around the countertops.

“Sweetheart, I’ve told you before to stay out of the kitchen when you know you can’t cook,” he admonishes gently.

“I can cook!” You pout at him indignantly.

Yixing strides towards you. You try to slip your injured finger behind your back, but he reaches behind you and picks up your hand. “What’s this then?”

You grumble incoherently, but your heart lifts when Yixing places a gentle kiss on the bandage. “I will never understand how you’re so precise with a surgical scalpel, but can’t handle a kitchen knife. Leave the cooking to me from now on, okay?”

“Baobei?” Yixing plops down next to you on the couch where you’re curled up, looking at a patient’s file. “Are you free tonight?”

You hum. “I only have to review this patient’s file before the surgery, but it’s next week, so I can do it later. Why?”

“I’m playing a gig tonight at 8, and I want you to come,” he smiles at you bashfully.

Your eyes light up. “I love watching you sing!” You pat his cheeks lovingly. Yixing doesn’t respond, but his mile-wide smile tells you all that you need to know.

As soons as you step into the cafe that night, you claim a seat right next to the stage. Yixing grabs a cup of coffee for you, and you smile at him gratefully.

“Good luck, Xing-ah,” you brightly cheer him on. You lean in and place a kiss on his dimple as a sign of both thanks and encouragement.

He waves at you as he ascends the stairs to the stage, adjusting the guitar strap around his shoulder.

“Juliet!” A somewhat familiar baritone voice registers in your ear. “Have you found a gift for your Romeo yet?”

You look up. Fluffy red locks and a warm smile greet you. “Chanyeol!” You recognize, smiling. “No, not yet,” you sigh in response, before your eyes slide to a petite, doe-eyed man standing next to Chanyeol.

“This is my boyfriend Kyungsoo,” the music store employee introduces. Kyungsoo’s lips pull into a heart-shaped smile as greeting. “She was at the store looking for a guitar for her boyfriend,” Chanyeol explains.

You scrunch up your nose. “Yes, but as you can see, he already has a guitar and I have no idea what type he uses.” You gesture towards the stage, where Yixing is quietly tuning his guitar, biting his lip in concentration.

Chanyeol gasps. “Yixing? Yixing is your boyfriend?”

You jolt in slight surprise. “Yeah, you know him?”

“We’re performing with him,” Kyungsoo explains with a low, velvety voice.

“So you’re Yixing’s girl!” Chanyeol all but shouts, gleeful. Before you can ask him what he means by that, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, shushing him with a firm punch to the arm. “Ack!” Chanyeol doubles back, dramatically clutching his arm. “How am I supposed to play piano with an injured arm, you meanie—!” His complaint is cut off as Kyungsoo grabs his hand and drags him onstage, waving goodbye to you. You eye the couple, laughing, as Chanyeol continues whining at the smaller male until Kyungsoo shuts him up with a chaste kiss.

Kyungsoo takes center stage with pink cheeks and Chanyeol settles behind the grand piano with a smirk. Yixing flashes a dimpled grin at his bandmates, letting a harmonious chord resonate through the air. The lights dim. You watch proudly as the three boys harmonize, seamlessly running through song after song. Your phone is in your hand as you cheer and sing along, taking dozens of photos of your boyfriend in his element.

Finally, after the fifth song draws to a close, Kyungsoo brings the mic to his lips. “How is everyone doing tonight?” He greets the audience that has slowly built up over the course of their set; the small cafe buzzes with life. “This final song is a little special something. Our guitarist here, Yixing, wrote it for his girlfriend...who is sitting in the front row right over there!” Kyungsoo turns in your direction, waving at you with a smirk on his plump lips.

You scowl, resisting the urge to give him the finger, and turn to the audience, whose attention has shifted over to you. You smile awkwardly— you’re sure the expression on your face resembles a grimace rather than the smile that you were attempted, but whatever. As you hear Yixing’s gasping laugh quietly from stage, you forgive Kyungsoo for his callout.

As the lights dim, Kyungsoo steps off stage, handing the mic to Yixing. “This song is called For Life,” Yixing says, gripping the mic. Chanyeol plays the piano intro, and the words flow from Yixing as easily and beautifully as only one’s native language would.

It’s utterly captivating. For the first time that night, you do not immediately pick up your phone to take a snapshot. Instead, you close your eyes, letting the melody flow into your ears. For those four short minutes, it is just you and him.

“Wo zhi dong wo ai dui ni li bu kai for life...”

Those four minutes are over too soon. You slowly come back down to earth, opening your eyes to see Yixing bowing shyly to the audience before grabbing his guitar and hopping off stage to slide into the seat next to you.

“What did you think, baobei?”

You wrap your arms around him. “It was beautiful, and I’m so, so proud of you.”

Because you are so wrapped up in Yixing, you don’t notice that Kyungsoo takes a photo of you and Yixing.

“Ack!” You scream in frustration as you throw yourself onto your bed. December 20th has come and gone, and you still haven’t found a gift for Yixing. As you sink into your thick comforters, you scroll through your dozens of pictures of Yixing and mope.

Suddenly, the phone buzzes in your hand.

Hey Juliet! Kyungsoo is making dinner tonight, you and Xingie-hyung should come over! As per usual, Chanyeol has doubled the length of his text with a long string of food and lip-licking emojis.

Okay, I’ll let Yixing know, you text back. A second later: Kyungsoo can cook?

Yeah! Soo makes the best food I’ve ever eaten!!

Good to know...

? What do you mean?

You don’t reply. You sit up; the gears are whirring in your brain. Quickly, you reach for you phone as if it were a lifeline and hastily press the green call button.

“Chanyeol? Remember how you said I could come back to you for help? Well, I’m about to cash that offer in now.”

“Xing, I’m home!” You call hoarsely. Exhausted, you plop onto the couch and rub your eyes.

“Baobei! You’re home! When you said you would be late tonight, I didn’t think you meant by three hours!” Yixing seats himself next to you, wrapping you in his arms. You close your eyes and lean into his embrace.

“Err..yeah, the hospital’s been really busy these past couple of days.”

“Ah, you should rest! Your voice sounds a little hoarse,” Yixing notices. “I’ll make you some honey lemon tea!”

“Aww, thanks Xing! You know, yelling at interns who won’t do their job properly, haha” you chuckle awkwardly.

Wow, I’m a shitty liar.

“Anyway!” You jump up, eager to change the subject. “Don’t worry about making dinner tomorrow night! I’ve got it handled.”

Yixing looks at you skeptically. “Baobei, do I need to remind you about what happened last time you tried cooking?”

“Hey!” You sulk, indignant. “I can totally cook just one meal. Trust me! By the time you come home tomorrow I’ll have dinner ready for you!”

“Shit, I do not have dinner ready yet.”

You’re startled as you glance up at the clock after placing finishing touches on Yixing’s present. While an hour would be plenty of time for most people to prepare a meal, your skills in the kitchen were decidedly not on par with most.

Quickly, you pick up the phone and call the number that you’ve dialed much too often in the past week.

“Kyungsoo? I need your help...again.”

The door opens. Yixing pokes his head in, a little wary. Doesn’t smell like anything’s burning, so that’s a good sign.

“Baobei?” He calls into the house. “Where are you?” He rounds the corner into the kitchen, where you’re standing in front the dining table, beaming.

“See? I told you I could do it,” you sweep a hand over the table, where you’ve set up candles, flowers, and most importantly, food that looks and smells edible. You smile smugly at him.

“Did you really make this yourself?” Yixing asks in wonder.

“Of course!” You pull out a chair, and beckon your boyfriend forward. As soon as he sits, you eagerly sit across from him. You gesture towards the kimchi spaghetti. “Here, try a bite!”

Yixing looks as you suspiciously, carefully nibbling at the noodles. His eyes widen as the taste registers, and he takes a larger bite. “Wah! This is actually really good!”

You sit back, satisfied. “See! I told you I could cook!”

Yixing just giggles. “You never cease to surprise me, baobei.”

After dinner, you don’t even bother cleaning up the plates before you grab Yixing’s hand, dragging him over to the couch before plopping your laptop in his lap.

“Aiyowei,” Yixing laughs, “what’s this now?”

“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” you look up at shyly. Holding your breath, you hit play.

“This life has twists and turns...”

Although you are expecting it, you shriek in embarrassment when your voice filters out of the speakers. Your hands fly over your eyes, but you can’t help but peek through and watch Yixing’s reaction.

His lips are parted in wonder, eyes drinking in the small video you’ve prepared.

It’s a slideshow — of him. Pictures of Yixing scroll across the screen. Yixing eating, Yixing singing, Yixing yawning, smiling, laughing. Snapshots from the very beginning of your relationship fill the video, and Yixing sees himself through your eyes. Your love for him is evident in the immortalization of these small moments.

“I’ll love you to the way you die...”

As your untrained singing voice reaches the climax of the song, a new set of pictures appear on screen. The selfie that the two of you took on your first date. Silly photos that you took of each other when you were bored. You making faces behind his back as he fell asleep while you two were watching a movie. Photos that capture the essence of your relationship are compiled into one video.

The final photo on screen is the one that Kyungsoo took at the cafe. You and Yixing are staring at each other, oblivious to the world around you.

As the screen fades to black, Yixing sits and stares quietly for a bit. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Desperate to break the awkward silence, you clear your throat. “I know it’s not much, but I just wanted to show you how much I love you, and you wrote this song for me in your native language, so I asked Kyungsoo to help me rewrite it in mine, and...”

As your ramblings get faster and longer, displaying your nervousness, Yixing plants a loving kiss on your lips. You shut up immediately, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Yixing’s face breaks into an easy smile. “I love you too, baobei. I love the song and my present, and I love you.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, you throw yourself into his arms. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs before placing his chin on your head and wrapping his arms around you.

“I have your present too,” you feel, rather than hear, him speak. You pull away in surprise.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t getting me anything!” You protest. “You literally get me gifts for no reason at all throughout the year and when I try to refuse you just claim it’s my ‘early Christmas present.’ I think I’ve gotten like five early Christmas presents this year already. You weren’t supposed to get me anything!” You whine at him.

“No, you said I wasn’t getting you anything. I never agreed to that!” Yixing giggles, kissing your temple. He reaches over you and pulls something small, white and fluffy out of an innocuous paper bag by the side of the couch.

“Merry Christmas, baobei.” He hands you the plushie.

“A unicorn. You actually got me a fucking unicorn.” You stare at the doll in your hand. “Oh my god, it looks like you!” You hold the plushie up next to Yixing’s face, and marvel at the similarity of their droopy eyes. The unicorn even has zippered pocket, and Yixing must’ve had it customized, because it has his Xing logo on the zipper. You bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile. “I should be mad at you! You weren’t even supposed to get me anything.” You pout, unsuccessfully trying to retain your indignance.

“But?” Yixing prods, smiling knowingly.

You sink into the sofa, leaning your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder. “But it’s too fucking cute, and it reminds me of you, and I love it.”

Yixing’s smile turns mysterious. “I’m glad, baobei. But you haven’t even seen the real present yet!”

“What do you mean, real present? Was this not enough!?” You shriek. “You weren’t even supposed to get me anything!”

Yixing nods at the zipper. “Open the pocket.”

You glance up at him. He’s chewing on his lip in anticipation, but when he feels your gaze, he meets your eyes and smiles weakly, dimple popping out.

You slide the zipper open, and something inside glints, catching the light.

Your stomach drops. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it?” You whisper, hope coursing through your veins.

You pull out a beautiful ring from within the plushie, and Yixing slides off the couch onto one knee.

“Oh my god!” Your hands fly up to cover your face, tears welling up.

“Baobei, I love you more than words can describe. Would you please stay with me...for life?” Yixing looks up at you earnestly, pleading.

As if you had any thought of saying no.

“Of course I will,” you nearly bawl, finally shedding the tears that had been building up. “I love you so much,” you sniffle.

Yixing’s face turns from anxious to alarmed. “Baobei! Why are you crying?” He fusses. “You never cry!”

“You just proposed to me!” you cry, hitting his arm weakly. “I’m just too happy.”

Yixing exhales audibly, a clear sign of relief, and kisses you again.

This kiss feels different, you muse to yourself, probably because I’m kissing my fiance and not my boyfriend.

Yixing slides the ring onto your finger, then places a gentle kiss on your finger tip. “C’mon baobei, let’s go clean up from dinner and refrigerate the leftovers. We don’t want Soo’s hard work to go to waste, do we?”

You startle in surprise. “W-what do you mean, Soo?” you splutter. “I totally made that!”

Yixing just chuckles, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Baobei, I recognize the taste of Soo’s cooking, especially since we just ate over at their place last week! Besides, don’t you think I know you well enough to be able to tell when you’re lying? I bet you went to Soo for help with singing, too,” Yixing smiles at you knowingly, wandering into the kitchen to clean up.

You pout, defeated. Picking up the forgotten plushie, you look it in the eyes. Yixing-ah, why do you have to be so honest all the time? Why can’t I have just this one victory? You lament, burying your face in the unicorn’s fur. But then you sigh, smiling slightly. But that’s what I love about you, Zhang Yixing.

[mikaylaispathetic-blog]

Knw y so many ppl out there r hating on u including guys too?? Keep telling urself is cuz ppl jealous of u. Guys can jealous of u for what??? Cause u have a dirty pussy???? Lol get a life n clear ur fucking brain ???

Everyone hate on u including guys is cause u damn fake n arrogant.nothing real bout u la. Always thnking u someone up there vry pretty vry yaya papaya. Makeup put so thick when everyone also knw how u look like without makeup. Kena confront thngs dun dare admit still keep deny. Want knw a fact not? This one u can argue all u Wan la but some of the things is u ownself tell ppl one. Like ur ex take ur nudes n u kena hiv. If u still wanna deny all this things ah u rlly power la!! But no choice u Megan/Mikayla/Mikiraae/Miraclyla/Mikaylacly/Louise C/ruoyalty??????? Ape lj la!!!dk wtf la name give so many suck cockah?? U got problem in keeping real sibo?? If u think u vry pretty n think that ur face can go out n see the world u think again la! A lot of ppl Wan whack u alr. See u talk to ppl so ceng still dare mention other ppl Husband name??? Knn were the fuck is ur sense of guilt n shame??? Still think vry power ah??? Father rich also not ur money knnccb keep flaunt for fuck??? A person like u should jus go rot la!! Think u from MANJUSRI normal tech go study MDIS the go NAFA very smart ah??? U think again la uglyass. Wanna say we all ur haters n all again cause we not complimenting u like ur “supporters” do???? I tell u la @ruoyalty out of 100% ah 95% ppl hate u. U think alot ppl like u??? FUCK U. Dun think so highly of urself. Cb disgusting. U think ur friends like u too ah?? Cb erxin. @ruoyalty jus go fucking commit suicide cause u dun deserve to live. @ruoyalty @ruoyalty @ruoyalty go hide away n nvr appear again u dumbass fake arrogant piece of shit!

[therealshallowdave-blog]

Why I joined the IET

First, some background:

I use Tumblr because I used to live in China, and it was a great way for information to be shared over there. Much less of a government threat than the likes of Weibo, which is essentially, the Chinese version of Twitter.

Next, there should be no surprises as to my real identity here. However, here I am free to post my experiences and views, free from accusations of being ‘unprofessional’ or exhibiting ‘old-fashioned negative thinking’. And, strangely I did not receive any letter asking me to cease posting my views on Social Media, nor did I receive a call from someone at the Mothership.

Perhaps the most fundamental of all chemical engineering principles is that of the Mass Balance, which is: essentially, for a stable process, inputs equal outputs. Sadly, through time, my IChemE experience became grossly imbalanced, putting far more in than I ever received out. And, all for two sets of letters.

Next, I do not hold a Chemical Engineering degree, Industrial Chemistry instead, and my sole motivation to become Chartered was the threat posed by the Scottish regulators; namely the HSE and SEPA. In their eyes, despite dozens of ICI and legacy-company training courses and events, nowhere in all the paperwork was competency ever proven. So, to retain my existing role at the time, I was strongly encouraged to become Chartered.  

By the time I became Chartered, 2004, I had relocated to Switzerland where the letters CEng MIChemE meant very little. Nevertheless, I had satisfied all the requirements, and, at the time(*), the company paid my fees. So, letters duly placed on business cards, and a win-win for all concerned.

(*) Now not the case, except for specific roles.

I returned to the UK in 2006, and in rejoining an ICI-legacy company, the benefit being Chartered was somewhat borderline. However, at this stage, I did ‘believe’ in the organisation and I soon mentored individuals as a means of ‘giving something back’.

By the time I took my first UK contract role, 2010, being Chartered probably made a difference, in either selection, or hourly rate, or both. Probably.

From 2010 to 2015 I performed three distinct roles in China; in Shanghai, Kunshan; Jiangsu, and Rudong; Jiangsu. Sometime during my second position, the IChemE opened a Chinese office, in downtown Shanghai, Xuhui, and just 100 metres from my branch of the ICBC bank.

I was quickly asked to mentor a male engineer in Wuhan, who later was to become the first Chartered Industrialist in the country. Other than the foreigners, of course. Soon, a Beijing lady followed, whom was in terms of her experience straight to Fellow material. Then, an Anglo-Italian engineer, again in Beijing, who, I believe has yet to submit his application due to time pressures.

I regularly visited the Shanghai office, as it provided respite from getting hammered at agrochemical supplier banquets, held at the twice-yearly exhibitions at the nearby Everbright Center, two metro stops away on Line 1. During these visits I learned an awful lot about the IChemE, which, I may report on in more detail in future. Primarily, the Mothership provided no support to the China operation, and took no effort to understand the culture and the issues. In particular, no one from the Mothership bothered to visit to see from themselves, except, that one senior ‘suit’ claimed to be overseeing things from 2010 to 2013, according to his Linkedin profile. He was certainly never mentioned nor seen in all my time there. 

In my last Chinese role, perhaps my BASF e-mail address prompted an invitation for myself to apply for Fellow. Of course, I was nowhere Fellow material, so I politely told Rugby to fuck off.

I cannot state for sure when the China experiment ended and the Shanghai office closed, however, there was no round-robin e-mail to all Chinese members informing this decision. This was on direct orders from Rugby. Given that TCE had recently published a most patronising spiel on ‘Effective Communication Skills For Engineers’, one was most displeased. Then CEO, David Brown, via e-mails, readily agreed, and also that the standard of writing in TCE of the Bhopal 30th Anniversary was ‘totally pish.’ [To use a little paraphrasing]. Search for said article on the TCE archives and you won’t find it. Precisely because it was so bad. Also around this time, an Australian academic shared his anti-Chinese racist views in an article. I have yet to receive his reply.

I returned to the UK in 2015, in a role, where being Chartered was required. However, in 2016, fees had increased by 8% where RPI inflation was below 1%. This is when comments regarding value for money started to appear on Linkedin, accompanied by sycophantic justification by Brown. 

Into 2017, and we have the Sean Moran situation. I have supported Sean, though perhaps as not as much as I would have liked. However, in the summer, I did discuss the possibility of transferring over to the IET, so holding letters CEng MIET vice CEng MIChemE. After paying a fee,and submitting a CV and sponsor, I transferred over seamlessly. Ongoing IET fees at CEng level will be 60% versus IChemE. IET voting members are over 50% versus under 30% for IChemE. Value for money and democracy indeed.

I think the Sean Moran situation has illustrated the IChemE suits for what they are: old school, head in the sand, sorry head in the trough, muppets, whose only motivation is to serve themselves.

Especially the Former Failed Politician. To quote from Haskin’s wife Doreen, in Sweeney episode Golden Fleece: “Sanctimonious? You’d have thought they’d [he’d] invented the word”. And he writes ‘Social Media isn’t the real world’ Try telling this to Donald J Trump. It is 2017, after all.

As a consequence of all this, I truly hope that 2018 subscriptions are significantly down, and that as many of you possible reading this can follow my example in transferring over to another, cheaper, professional institution. This can also be shared widely as there is nothing I wouldn’t repeat under oath. Except, of course, I didn’t really tell Rugby to fuck off; that’s an obvious figure of speech.... 

[cynfinnegan]

From the article: "When you hear people calling themselves “progressive” all the time, that’s a sure sign of a Bernie Bot. If you see support for a certain candidate from Our Revolution or the Justice Democrats, that’s another guy who is no good."

Isn't that a good reason for Democrats to reclaim the word "Liberal" for ourselves?