Friends, I invite you to consider the following hypothetical scenario:

First imagine that you’re at an orientation.  Perhaps it’s for an organization you’ve recently joined, or hypothetically, it could be a work orientation.  What’s important to note, is that you are with people who will be seeing you on a daily basis for the next couple years of your life.  This is purely hypothetical, of course.

Now imagine that your “enthusiastic” Singaporean orientation leader, Terrence, has told you it’s time to play an icebreaker.  An icebreaker (in case you are unfamiliar with the term) is a game you play to “break the ice,” or help a group of relative strangers bond and form a team.

First icebreaker: stand in a circle and rub the shoulders of the person to your left.

Wait, huh?  Excuse me? This is an icebreaker or a massage parlor? I hope this guy showered today…

Now turn and rub the temples of the person to your right.

Oh god…so awkward, so awkward!  Oh no.. who’s touching my head? Yikes – I think I know his wife!

Now imagine that Terrence, or Sir Peppy-Pants as I prefer to call him, tells you that it’s time to milk the cow. That’s right, friends.  It’s time to milk the cow.

Now, to fully comprehend the trauma of this horrific little exercise, I would like to ask that you all interlock your fingers as shown in the diagram below.  Fingers together, palms out, thumbs down.

Got it?  Good.  Now, with your hands interlocked this way, walk into a room of strangers and ask them to introduce themselves to you by “pulling on your udders.”  No I’m serious.  You can’t possibly understand how horrible this is until someone (like hypothetically all of your colleagues) actually pulls your fingers this way.

Now imagine that Sir Peppy-Pants has you spend the rest of the afternoon singing “team building” karaoke songs, holding hands and playing “squirell in the forest.”

Needless to say I’m traumatized.  Hypothetically traumatized, that is.

What strange universe am I living in?

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