Post-dated: The Chicken Chop Saga

Sometimes, with a sudden surge of raging blood to my head, brutishness and brashness would code every word, colour my disposition dark. That has been a part of me, as far back as I can remember. Time and again, events momentous or trifling have exposed this failing.

Friday. Today, again, I blew my top. Though, not without reason, it was never the less, short on purpose.

I was to take my dinner at a hawker centre, having ordered the famous chicken chop, with knowledge of a long waiting time, which was conversed to me too by the stallholder to be at 15 minutes. I was told specifically to "come back 15 minutes later", which I took in good faith, yet seeing the mob crowding the stall, you wondered.

It was a time bomb waiting to be triggered. I could sense another man was rather agitated too. The stallholder explained that the fire had dozed off in the stove. Yet it was plain to see that some others have got their buys, even though I was there first.

So, I joined the others after around 12 minutes of my order, questioning the status of my order. This was repeated two more times, before I utterly exploded, hinting at the dishonesty with which the business was conducted. I had ordered 40 minutes before, and was still waiting, in contrary to what was agreed. I reasoned to myself, does that mean I should be compensated for a break in contract? He shrugged it off, suggesting if I don't wish to wait, I can always don't buy and that they were just earning a living. Sharp words indeed, though, his manner fell short of aloofness, rather on kindly advice.

After giving the typically nonchalant stallholder a piece of my mind, I was to get my chicken chop at about 45 minutes after my order, which I wolfed down in approximately 5 minutes. Then I wondered, was it all worth it? Then again, Singaporeans are much too docile, too submissive, I thought.

Obviously, there is a flaw in the stall's order-taking procedure, as in my disposition.