Every time I step out, I'm reminded of the reasons why I'd rather stay home.
If it's not some lackadaisical counter persons, it's inconsiderate 'aliens' who jump queues with no qualm at all. I've stopped lining up for the soya bean curd outside the neighbourhood park after an unpleasant episode on an otherwise beautiful Sunday morning. No amount of reproach will elicit an apology from these species from outer space.
And just when I thought it was convenient to pay at the outdoor cubicle at the petrol station, out pounced a sallow Panda from a Naza Ria behind me and shoved her 50 ringgit note and member card right under my very nose!
"Pam 9, 50 ringgit".
She spoke Malay, but she sure was not schooled in Malay culture.
Before I could find my voice, she was back again at the counter for her receipt or something.
I might as well have been invisible!
"Don't your parents and your teachers ever taught you manners? Or you've never gone to school?" I asked, shaking with anger while filling up my tank.
"Do you even know how to apologise?" I persisted.
All she did was swivel her head left and right condescendingly, as if SHE was the one who was wronged, a 'victim' pressing the pump from some moral high ground!
After she drove off (FIRST, of course), I drove and parked under a shady tree by the road shoulder in front of the station. After a bowl of iced cendol, I walked over to the counter boy and asked him why he did not tell her off. He gave some lame answers. I silently wished that I had migrated to the US, Oz or Oman.