My 10 years as The MileLion

In April 2015, The MileLion published its first-ever post: a badly-formatted, 218-word treatise on how to earn 4,000 bonus miles on your next hotel booking. 

In retrospect, it would have been a much better origins story if the inaugural post were an explosive uncovering of corporate wrongdoing, or a salacious cat fight à la Josh Cahill v Sam Chui/Ben Schlappig/empty room, or at the very least, a “hello world” explaining how a freak accident with a nuclear reactor had imbued me with the powers necessary to travel better for less (and robbed me of any remaining hair follicles).

Unfortunately, the genesis of The MileLion is rather more prosaic. After a particularly gruelling period at work, I took a month-long unpaid sabbatical to rest, recuperate, and think about whether this was really what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

Two weeks of lazing around the house later, I finally decided to start a blog (because blogs will never go out of fashion) and write about the one thing I really enjoyed: miles and points. When the time came to take the website live, I realised I hadn’t actually thought of a name for it.

“It’s got to be something that conveys the idea it’s a miles blog, yet also uniquely Singaporean. You know, like miles…Merlion…MileLion…but not that lame.”

But since my session was about to time out, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to fill out all that paperwork again, The MileLion 1.0 was born, held together with duct tape and a prayer.

10 years later, here’s my take on a decade of blogging.

The best job in the world

I don’t know how many people wake up each morning genuinely excited to do what they do, but I count myself fortunate to be among them.

The MileLion became my full-time gig in October 2018, and it’s basically my dream job. It lets me geek out over the things I love. It offers me the freedom to set my own hours and pick my own projects. It gives me a creative outlet. It provides me with a platform to hold companies accountable, and stop them from screwing over the little guy. I get to travel, to pore over the minutiae of cards and reward programmes, and to shape the landscape for miles and points in Singapore. 

Of course, like any job, there are good days and bad days. Still, as Pete Wells put it when he stepped down as the New York Times’ food critic:

The first thing you learn as a restaurant critic is that nobody wants to hear you complain. The work of going out to eat every night with hand-chosen groups of friends and family sounds suspiciously like what other people do on vacation.

I can empathise. Reviewing First and Business Class cabins, airport lounges and 5-star hotels has its ups and downs, but heaven help you if you’re ever foolish enough to mention the latter.

Are there aspects of the job that I’m not so fond of? Sure. I don’t particularly enjoy the administrative or technical side of running a business. I don’t like butting heads with legal departments about what I can and can’t say. I am somewhat disconcerted that the current state of online discourse has devolved to the point where if your opinion is contrary to mine, the only explanation is that you’re a paid shill. And I don’t relish being asked to mediate fights between grown-ass men in the Telegram groups, which is basically the adult equivalent of teacher teacher he say me.

Still, these minor annoyances should not detract from the fact that I find my work incredibly meaningful and rewarding, and I’m very grateful for your support in making that possible, whether it’s sharing articles with friends and family, applying through the links on the website, or sending story tips, corrections, and fan fic of varying degrees of tastefulness.

How long will I do this for?

You know what question I hated the most, back when I was interviewing for jobs?

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

You’re supposed to show ambition, alignment and realism. Tell the interviewer you have goals, and those goals are aligned with and achievable with this company.

“In five years, I see myself having developed deep expertise in [insert relevant skill here], taking on more responsibility in managing projects or mentoring newer team members. I’m particularly interested in growing with [insert company name here], which values continuous learning and internal progression, so I’d love to see myself advancing into a role where I can contribute strategically as well as technically.”

I felt an overwhelming urge to retch just typing that, and it probably says a lot about my general immaturity that every time I hear this question, the only response that pops into mind is “in your chair, asking a more intelligent question”. 

But really, I don’t have the slightest clue. 

I don’t know how long I’ll do The MileLion for. There’s no guarantee this website will be around for another 10 years, or five years, or even next year. Banks might lower the payouts for conversions. Regulators could cap interchange and make credit card rewards much less lucrative. Google might condition everyone to rely on AI overviews, instead of visiting websites to read the articles. I might have health issues (which may or may not be related to the previous point).

In my quieter moments, I’ve often wondered whether I’d be able to make the transition back to the corporate world, should The MileLion go belly up tomorrow. Sometimes I worry I’ve been institutionalised, or rather deinstitutionalised, to the extent that I wouldn’t be able to fit into a “real job” ever again.

I’ve made no secret of my dislike of the corporate world, with its forced pleasantries, endless meetings, asinine compliance training (actual question: if offered a bribe you should (a) reject it (b) accept it because everyone else does it (c) accept it and share it with your colleagues), and Friday afternoon mandatory fun. And sometimes it feels like every single process is painstakingly designed to keep you from getting actual work done.

But look. If providing for my family means putting on a suit and tie, I will put on a suit and tie. Besides, there are other means of gainful employment that don’t involve a daily commute to Shenton Way (no, not OnlyFans), and I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

What’s my hope for The MileLion?

While I don’t know how long I’ll be doing this, what I do know is that so long as I run The MileLion, I want it to be a reflection of the values I believe in.

What does that mean exactly? Well, I came across this blog post by the late Tim Keller, which I think is a great summary of how the Christian faith affects our approach to work.

In short, I want to run The MileLion with integrity and competence, without tying my self-worth to its success or failure. That’s easier said than done, because while I run The MileLion, I am The MileLion. The lines can oftentimes get blurred, and I need to remind myself to be content with whatever God has given, and not to mindlessly pursue open-ended growth, or feel that each month needs to surpass the last in terms of readership, income, subscribers, or whatever metric it is.

I also realise that this job can, in some ways, be dangerous. Not in the physical sense (unless all the cosmic radiation from long-haul flying is slowly rendering me infertile), but in the sense that it can lull you into thinking that First and Business Class travel, 5-Star hotels, and free-flow champagne is the norm. It is not. And the Bible is full of warnings about growing too attached to idle luxury, or sleepwalking your way into an addiction to nicer and nicer things.

So if you’re a Christian brother or sister, I’d appreciate your prayers for me as I try to live out my faith in the running of this site, however flawed and imperfectly.

Final thoughts

Over the years I’ve been very moved by the numerous messages of support and encouragement sent by readers. The interwebs can be a scary place in general — anonymity does not bring out the best in some people — but I’m always delighted to hear about how the content has helped you, and about the trips you’ve been able to enjoy with your miles.

Anyway, there’s one particular story I’d like to share. It was the 2024 Seedly PFF, and prior to my panel discussion, I was invited to an on-site interview with CNA 938’s Family Ties programme.

Now, I didn’t ask for the questions ahead of time, which is probably my bad. I went in expecting to answer some variant of “What’s the best credit card to use for miles?”,  run through my stump speech on card strategy, and crack some off-colour jokes that push the O.B markers for public broadcasting.

So imagine my surprise when the first question came. 

“What does good financial planning mean to you?”

What the what?

I mean, I can talk your ear off about credit card technicalities, rounding policies, and obscure South American frequent flyer programmes, but I don’t know my ILPs from my IUDs. The returns on my retirement portfolio would make Bill Hwang look like a genius. And I certainly wouldn’t take financial planning advice from me.

So instead of saying “No idea, that’s why I’m here at Seedly PFF!” (and in retrospect, that might have been a better answer), I hemmed and hawed my way through a stream of consciousness monologue, littered with hackneyed phrases like “stewardship” and “living within my means”.

The interviewer nodded politely at my word salad, then turned to Budget Babe, the other panellist, for whom the question was bread and butter. And then the little voice in my head started acting up.

You, sir, are a fraud, and also rather objectionable-looking. 

The rest of the interview didn’t go much better — why should it have? — and it was painfully obvious that I was out of my depth. Asset allocation? Huh? Best and worst investment? What? Why would you bring in the MileLion and ask him about financial planning?!?!

After 15 of the longest minutes in my life, the ordeal finally drew to a close.

“What’s one piece of advice you’d like to leave with listeners?”

Ugh.

“Um…know the difference between needs and wants”. 

Oh that’s good, Buffett. Why not tell them to buy low and sell high while you’re at it?

You know how they say you can watch a man dying in his eyes? This is my best approximation of that.

Now, you can say that it was just a bad interview, and people have suffered far worse. That may be true, but all the same, I was feeling pretty crappy, and not in the best state of mind for my session later.

I retreated to Black Tap for some comfort eating, and sat there in a funk, wondering why I didn’t pay more attention during Finance 101, and whether I could get a court order to bar that interview from ever airing.

As I was about to leave, the waitress told me that the two gentlemen at the table next to me had picked up my tab. I had absolutely no idea who they were. I mean, I overheard them talking about credit cards and stuff, so I assume they were attending PFF too, but we didn’t interact at all during lunch. 

That little act of kindness — or perhaps not so little, given MBS prices — really gave me a lift at a moment when I badly needed one, so whoever you are, thank you.

Conclusion

2025 marks 10 years of The MileLion, and what a blast it’s been! Thank you again to everyone, whether you’re a long-time reader, or stumbled upon the site last week while looking for Hotel 81 reviews.

After 10 years, I think I’m only beginning to scratch the surface of all the weird and wonderful things in the world of miles and points. There’s a lot more to learn– and I can’t wait.