By Chua Lam

I went with a female friend to look for a new house that was referred to her by an overweight real-estate agent. We were at the top of a hill waiting for her. When she came climbing up the hill, she was gasping for air with a face full of sweat and smiles. After we saw the house my friend asked question after question, all the time sporting a dark look of disapproval. Finally,she took us to Black's Link (a small street in Hong Kong) on Kadoorie Hill to take a gander at the real goods. We were ready to take a long look at a nice flat with high ceilings that wasn't too expensive.

That friend of mine is more than worthy of the title“gossipmonger” who often shoots her mouth off and makes tart remarks. We watched as the agent lumbered like a dinosaur up the hill and out of the blue my friend asked, “So are you at least like 140 pounds, or what?”

“Woah? Don't go spreading any rumors now... I'm nowhere near 140 pounds!” She quipped.Her voice grew bigger and more animated with her follow-up comment, “I was 140 pounds when I was twenty. When I'm out working I just love to eat. I've gained a pound a year and now I'm at least 160.”

This short moment of levity had the poker-faced gossipmonger in stitches for hours.

Humor is a weapon,sometimes.

When I go out looking for new employees, the ones with a good joke are the ones who get my signature on that new-hire contract. Because I know all too well that I'm going to have to see their face for at least a few months and happy people are always easier to get along with than unhappy ones. That's just a fact.

People with a sense of humor get more opportunities than others and make friends more easily. And, don't think for a second that telling a joke is just being glib, because even the President needs a few witticisms to help lighten the mood.

“So why in the world did you choose this profession?” the gossipmonger interrogated.

“It's a good choice for a mother raising kids. My old man and I are divorced,” the agent replied.

“Why did you get divorced?”

“We just couldn't communicate anymore,” she said. “He wasn't even willing to tell me which girls he was dating.” And there again,she had us rolling in the aisles.

The gossipmonger was feeling pretty good by then and she was happy with the house. “I have to talk it over with my husband.”

“That's good. The two of you should talk.” The agent said, “But you shouldn't let your husband decide everything. I never got his blessing to lose weight.”

The gossipmonger laughed again and the deal was done.