The dividend of discipline – why I chose service over solitude

MY UNDERSTANDING of economics did not come from a textbook; it started at the breakfast table. In my household, “enough” was a moving target.

I vividly remember my siblings and I seated at the table before school, watching my mother carefully portion out bread because we did not have a full loaf to go around.

We each received one-and-a-half slices of roti – a precise fraction that taught me early on that every resource must be accounted for and nothing should be wasted.

Those one-and-a-half slices of bread became the foundation of a disciplined life.

A self-taught investor

Because I knew the weight of scarcity, I became an aggressive student of the markets soon after I drew my first pay cheque. Lacking a formal finance background, I was entirely self-taught.

I spent my nights devouring the writings of Warren Buffett, trying to internalise the temperament required for long-term compounding.

I adopted a “buy-and-keep” mantra, although the journey was far from a straight line. My philosophy was tempered by the market’s harsh lessons – a fair share of losses and “wrong calls” kept my ego in check.

Eventually, I realised that I did not need to be a genius. In the world of stock picking, being right just over 50 per cent of the time is enough, provided you maintain the discipline to dollar-cost average through the crashes, and the patience to let time do the heavy lifting.

Risk and luck are both at play in investing. As psychologist Daniel Kahneman expressed it, the formula goes: Success = talent + luck; great success = a little more talent + a lot of luck.

He emphasised that extreme success is heavily dependent on favourable, unpredictable circumstances rather than just skill. In my case, I consider it pure luck that I had holdings of Singapore Exchange at S$1.88, sold half the shares at about S$5, and kept the other half till today.

While my peers chased the latest lifestyle upgrades, I saw every increment as “fuel” for my future freedom, saving and investing as much as possible. This quiet, boring discipline eventually paid its dividend.

By my early 50s, it granted me the ultimate luxury: the financial autonomy to walk away from a high-pressure senior role and “switch lanes”.

The second act: returning to service

Many view early retirement as a chance to retreat to the golf course, but I found myself with a restless desire to contribute.

I chose to return to the civil service for my second career. It was a full-circle moment.

The public sector provided the stability that allowed a kid sharing bread to eventually thrive. Now, I wanted to channel my experience back into the system that paved my way.

Neither getting to the next grade nor landing a bigger bonus motivates me. Now, my “return on investment” is the satisfaction of public contribution as an experienced worker.

Beyond the retirement horizon

Today, I live by the philosophy of enjoying each day as it comes. There is a profound, quiet joy in working without the anxiety of the “corporate climb”.

As Singapore enters a “super-aged” era, the traditional concept of a “retirement age” may well become an obsolete milestone. To me, age is not a reason to exit, but a vantage point from which to add value.

I plan to serve for as long as I can contribute meaningfully. In this lane, I am no longer racing against a clock. I am simply someone who finally has enough bread to share, intent to keep passing it around for as long as possible.

The writer, a two-time public servant in his early 60s, advocates for lifelong learning and active contribution in the silver years