walks

Synopsis of the lives of two singaporeans. The average Singaporean girl sat across me, head bowed, eyes brows knitted staring at the small printed fonts of the recruit section of the The Straits Times. I politely requested for the remaining sections of the Straits Times. The youthful face looked up and we exchanged quick nods of acknowledgment. What I saw whispers the plight of the pressure of job seekers. It could well have been any Singaporean, except today it takes the form of a fresh graduate thrown straight into the trough of the economic turbulence.

The other person who caught my attention was the desserts vendor. Uncle was probably in his sixties, but he guarded his stall with his strong sense of ownership and cynicism. Years of meeting flicker minded customers must have helped him developed the unbelievable practicality in his business strategy. A customer came up to the stall and requested that his tapioca soup be changed to ice kachang. Uncle, already holding a bowl of tapioca soup in his hands, smiled and gave a slight tilt of the head in agreement. I was ready to make my order and take that bowl of tapioca soup. But before I can do that, Uncle has already placed the bowl of tapioca soup under the ice shaving machine. The machine roared into action, spewing out crushed ice in small white powders. He cooly added the regular toppings for ice kachang to the bowl of ex-tapioca soup. I didn't stay for the customer to reach the bottom of his ice kachang.

Uncle. You win.