What a difference a decade makes

Like deer before 500 cruel spotlights, a gangly teenage Chinese boy and an even skinnier Indian girl froze, awaiting imminent death.

They had just committed a cardinal boo-boo in the Talentime they were emceeing: mix up the first runner-up with the second, leaving the victims steaming and the audience rather cold. It was the annual song and dance competition of their junior college - that abode of self-consciousness perhaps befitting their awkward performance.

Onstage, he was all reherased script and joyless platitudes. Offstage, the wannabe host was yet to suffer his deepest pain: When trying to mingle in the post-event reception, he received neither compliment nor conversation - only the disassociating glances of people who knew their place and didn't try too hard to be cool, and fail.

But if his 2000 emceeing attempt inflicted his blackest trauma, his 2011 effort provided much-needed redemption.

Given the chance just three months into his professional-second-chance, this was make or break all over again. At the end, it was hell-yeah-make.

Yet at first he feared the worst. His jokes were initially regurgitated, meeting with little reaction from the the whole goddam organisation - some 800-strong. Before a speech, the CEO himself jibed at the emcees' use of flipcards that locked in predictable dialogue. The point was punched home when the top man delivered a lively one hour address unscripted.

Upon realising the audience's disaffection towards wooden humour, he knew he had to off-the-cuff it.

As onstage confidence grew, he dared break from the script to poke fun at a colleague who had at tea break mistaken his all-black attire for a waiter's. He told stories, one about how relieved he was the event was ending, because that night he had suffered a Murphy's Law nightmare about a script malfunction so bad the CEO had to take over as emcee. One was mock-critical, one self-effacing; both thankfully naturally delivered. That was all the audience craved; appreciative laughter duly followed.

He discovered, to his delight, that Singaporeans aren't the inert rabble he often makes them out to be; they want to laugh and lightheart, if only somebody gives them a chance to.

To complete the decade-long comeback, he even got an unexpected chance to tell everyone about his grass roof van project. At the Q&A dialogue session with the senior management, someone asked if the "van with the grass roof" was an NParks project; it's wonderful; can we do more of it?"

The CEO said that it was a personal project, let's have him tell us all more about it. If ever the grass was not greener on the other side, this was it.

When it all ended, praise came from a few quarters, but Ben's words were, as usual, the sweetest: "You're back on track man... you cashed in big time".