Do you work for a living in an office? Do you stop at about 12ish to do this thing called lunch? Have you realised what a pain in the behind it can be?
How many of you find that it takes FOREVER to get your colleagues out of their desks?
12pm: Someone raises the cry, “lunch, anybody lunch….”
12.15pm: No reaction. Another alarm is raised, “Im going for lunch, who’s coming?” (then sits back down at desk)
12:30pm: Some sign of stirring. In the slowest manner, colleagues would pack their things and get off chairs
12.31pm: Somebody will say, “Aiyah forgot to send this email…”, and everyone gets back to their desks
12.40pm: At last someone will get really frustrated and takes off, “Ok, ok…i’m going off, see you all at the lobby”
Only then everyone finally starts to move.
Come on fellow corporate warriors – we all know that there is no work so urgent you can’t put it off till after lunch (unless you’re my colleague who’s name rhymes with “kasmine”, you’re forgiven). Asking a team of people out to lunch is like watching a snail eat salad.
(This is a live video of snail eating salad)
So when you’re finally successful at getting everyone out of the building, you now face the hot and crowded world, where it is just too hot…and crowded. And then there’s the tissue paper.
Oh yes, tissue paper….
Ok, I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but to me – this tissue paper chope chope thing is quite annoying. I don’t know why it’s annoying, but it is. I can’t quite put my finger on it, it’s very practical and very logical…but ARGH. You see a perfectly good table and then see a bunch of tissue papers in the way and you think, “$#%#@@$#$%%^$##….”
(try chope-ing with this)
I don’t want to judge lah – tissue tissue lor, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’ll volunteer to sit down and shoo away people rather than subcontract this job to a packet of Kleenex.
So now that you have a seat, there is the agonising job of figuring out what to eat. This is the one out of three times in a day you get to eat, so you can’t make bad decisions right? I mean, what happens if you order something disgusting and that leaves you neither filled nor hungry? Because this is a serious decision, you make your way around the hawker centre like viewing a gigantic walk-in menu.
Then you queue. You queue for a hundred years to put your order for mixed rice, fish noodles or if you want to be really exotic, something Korean or Japanese. The aunty who’s taking your order has been there for the better part of the day, enduring the heat longer than you have. So as the crowds pour in, she’s not amused and is keen to take your order as quick as she can and hurry you off. She’s grumpy and probably won’t entertain your, “Aunty, noodles without fish please and the prawn put one side, less tao gei more garlic, but don’t want so salty with more onions and ginger and put everything into two bowls hor.”
The aunty drops your order on a platter and you proceed to manoeuvre boiling hot soup noodles in a graceful manner back to your table. By now your forehead is dripping sweat into your noodles and you’re perspiring more than a fat kid at a sports carnival. The fan above you is spinning with all the power of a limping bean sprout.
Halfway through your eating, you see from the corner of your eye another hungry diner standing just behind you impatiently waiting for you to finish so he can take your place. He throws you a voracious look and you’re almost certain the man wants to eat you for lunch instead.
Every weekday, at offices all over the island, this scenario plays itself out over and over again. Its a part of the rat race and a necessary rite of corporate passage.