The NUS MBA Diaries: Reflections from Therese Angangco

 

The Whiplash Effect

In Operations class, we played the Beer Game, a supply chain simulation where you manage inventory across a distribution network. I had no expectations going in, but my surprising takeaway was this: asymmetric information has exponentially compounding effects. One retailer over-orders slightly. The wholesaler sees the spike and orders more. By week four, everyone’s drowning in inventory nobody needs because the information gets distorted at each step. It’s called the whiplash effect.

I was simultaneously running four group projects with completely different teams—a case competition, an accounting project analyzing a hawker stall’s viability,  an economics presentation on a struggling retail company’s Southeast Asia strategy, and a financial case memo on the restructuring of JAL. It occurred to me: this is the simulation. Not for supply chains, but for working across cultures, time zones, and work styles.

Before this, I’d only worked in the Philippines. Same cultural context, same unspoken rules. MBA group work became my first real test of what happens when those assumptions don’t hold.

This all unfolded against a backdrop of constant motion, my first Diwali celebration, classmate’s birthday celebrations, my future in laws visiting Singapore, coffee chats with folks in the private equity space, a talk by the SEA CEO of Coinbase , flying back to Manila for wedding planning, and visiting my new nephew, an NUS networking event at Marina Bay Sands the night before a finance exam (56/60 for me btw), a Women in Tech event where I met Julie, a fellow Filipina at Microsoft who shared frameworks on workplace attitudes with incredible energy. The density made coordination a challenge. I always have to keep reminding myself of what’s important and what’s noise.

Going to See for Yourself

What I learned was that as long as we had a plan and clear expectations about energy levels, it worked. No endless back-and-forth trying to coordinate. Instead, we helped each other make decisions by figuring out our roles early.

We made time to visit the hawker center. Saw the actual operations, talked to some owners, understood the constraints.

The economics group was assigned randomly. We were analyzing The Body Shop’s expansion strategy. We took the extra effort on a Sunday to rehearse.

The product games group, we were able chose each other. By October, I’d noticed what I looked for, people who cared, who’d follow through (or could make up for it if they failed to do a task), who could handle direct conversations. We didn’t win, but the process was smooth. No unnecessary 10pm scrambles (although we did have one late night sprint a couple days before the deadline).

What made it work was that we’d talked early about deadlines and working styles. My Canadian teammate, Gabriel, built in buffer time and made sure nothing fell through the cracks. My Indonesian classmate, Gracellyne, still running her full-time business, needed hard deadlines.  I wanted tangible checkpoints. Once we named these approaches, we could design around them.

Why People Do What They Do

Here’s what I didn’t expect: people aren’t difficult. They’re operating under different constraints and cultural scripts. Once I saw it this way, group work got easier. I was learning to read patterns I’d never encountered in Manila—not because people are fundamentally different, but because the cultural nuances shift a lot of things. Silence means different things across cultures. “Let’s discuss this” carries different urgency depending on who’s saying it. “Good enough” has no universal definition.

What the Simulation Teaches You

The whiplash effect happens when information gets distorted, when people aren’t communicating clearly. In the Beer Game, you see the problem from outside. In group work, you’re inside it.

It doesn’t always work smoothly. The accounting group had moments where communication styles clashed. The economics group navigated different expectations about what “good enough” meant. The product games group got lucky, but that taught me what to look for next time.

But that’s the point. These are mini-simulations for working on diverse, global teams. Instead of managing a real project with real consequences, I’m learning to navigate differences on a Body Shop case study or hawker center financial model. Low stakes, high learning.

The Beer Game taught me to see the whiplash effect, how small misalignments compound across a system. Group work taught me how to prevent it: make the implicit explicit before the distortions start. Name the constraints. Surface the different scripts people are running. Design around the differences instead of pretending they don’t exist.

Unlike my jobs in the Philippines, where I could rely on shared cultural context, and where people laughed at my jokes, or at least pretended to, here I’m learning to communicate across differences. The simulation is working so far I think.

Learning Beyond the Classroom: What Singapore Really Teaches You

When I applied to this MBA program, I knew I’d learn frameworks, case studies, and leadership theories. What I didn’t expect was how much Singapore itself would become part of my education, not just as a backdrop, but as a living curriculum in efficiency, connection, and intentional living.

The Infrastructure of Learning

“Things just work in Singapore.” People say it almost like a complaint—efficient, predictable, maybe even boring. But when you live here, you start to understand its quiet power. No last-minute detours. No frantic buffer planning. You just show up. All that mental space that used to go to worrying about logistics turns into room for deeper work and connection.

Especially coming from Manila—where a 15-kilometer car ride can easily take two hours— the contrast is striking. This sense of ease began even before I landed. Processing my student visa was straightforward, with no endless loops or mysterious delays. At Changi Airport, I cleared immigration in minutes. Back home in Manila, efficiency often depends on what status tier you hold. Here, convenience isn’t a privilege; it’s the norm. Everyone gets the smooth experience.

Even the small things signal a different operating system. Grapes at the supermarket cost S$3.15. Back home, the same quality would cost three times more. Public spaces, parks, libraries, sports facilities, are genuinely public and genuinely excellent. Quality of life infrastructure isn’t a luxury; it’s the baseline.

This ethos extends to the program itself. Email a professor with a question? A reply often arrives within hours. Reach out to the BizCareer team? Someone’s available, approachable, and invested. That responsiveness isn’t just convenient, it signals a culture where your learning matters, and support is never far away.

The Network That Forms Naturally

I came to business school knowing networking was important. But I expected it to feel a bit rigid. Instead, I found something more organic and human.

My classmates and I are all navigating the same compressed life stage: career switching, industry hopping, future building. In that shared uncertainty, people talk about the things you can’t Google: cultural cues in interviews, the reality of roles they left behind, what they wish they’d known earlier. These aren’t polished stories, they’re honest, messy insights shared over coffee or late-night study sessions.

The city makes this easier. Singapore is small enough that meeting across town isn’t a two- hour ordeal. Diverse enough that your cohort spans dozens of industries and nationalities. Connected enough that introductions happen naturally. It’s not networking as strategy— it’s community as a natural byproduct of proximity and openness.

Operations at 8:30am: An Unexpected Gift

I’ll admit it, when I saw that Operations was scheduled at 8:30am, I groaned. But it’s become the highlight of my week. Our professor Joel Goh bursts in with “GOOD MORNING” energy that somehow makes early mornings feel less like punishment and more like possibility.

On day one, he already knew our names, not just the list, but our backgrounds and hobbies. That level of preparation isn’t just impressive; it’s a signal of care. It says: you matter. You’re not just a seat number. That transforms the classroom dynamic from transactional to relational.

His facilitation matched that intentionality. We’ve explored everything from health service delivery to boat building to how creativity itself can be operationalized. On paper, the topics sound scattered. In practice, they gave us frameworks that surfaced in unexpected places including a recent case competition. Operations isn’t just about supply chains and efficiency metrics. It’s about understanding how things work and how they can work better.

Building a Life, Not Just a Resume

What I didn’t expect was how much I’d build a life while learning. I went sailing for the first time in Singapore. I’d tried it briefly back home and found a club at National University of Singapore, so I brought some friends along. There’s something grounding about being on the water, skyscrapers in the distance, waves lapping against the hull—a reminder that the ocean doesn’t care about your internship applications or LinkedIn profile.

These moments matter more than I anticipated. The learning here isn’t just professional— it’s personal. It’s about discovering what sustains you, what brings you joy, what makes a place feel like more than a line on your CV. Singapore has shown me how efficiency and intentionality create room for spontaneity. Good infrastructure supports good living. And being surrounded by ambitious, generous people makes both work and play richer.

What I’d Tell Prospective Students

If you’re considering this program, here’s what I wish someone had told me: Come ready to learn from everything—the coursework, yes, but also the city, your classmates, and the systems around you. Come ready to ask questions and get answers quickly. Build relationships that feel less like networking and more like friendship. Try something new, whether it’s a framework in class or sailing on a Saturday.

Singapore will teach you—but only if you’re paying attention.