Steady lah, I tell you about this one fellow, Ah Lai.
This guy ah, body size like Giant refrigerator, but his ego bigger than Marina Bay Sands. Every time we jio him go down void deck coffeeshop for $7 big bottle Tiger beer, he will make one kind of face—like he just smelled someone fart in the lift like that.
The “Atas” Standard
“Eh, hello,” Ah Lai will say, adjusting his fake Giorgio Armani shirt that is straining at the buttons. “I am high-SES (Socio-Economic Status) one, okay? My skin very sensitive to heat. You want me to sit on those red plastic stools? Later my designer pants koyak how? And the auntie cleaning the table… her cloth got smell, I cannot.”
We all just roll eyes only. “Then you want go where? Starbucks?”
“Starbucks is for secondary school kids doing homework lah,” Ah Lai reply, nose pointing to the ceiling. “I only drink at Boutique Gastropubs. Must have air-con, must have craft beer from Belgium, and the waiter must call me ‘Sir’.”
The Champagne Taste, Longkang Budget
The problem is, Ah Lai’s wallet is flatter than a piece of roti prata.
Last Friday, he insist we go this fancy bar at Tanjong Pagar. We reach there, he order one pint of some ‘Organic IPA’ that cost $22++. He take one sip, act like he is wine connoisseur, nodding his head slowly.
“Mm, the hops got notes of Himalayan sea salt and morning dew,” he say, acting damn expert.
Then the bill come.
Ah Lai suddenly start patting his pockets. Left side, right side, back pocket. His face go from “Atas Boss” to “Lao Sai” (diarrhea) real quick.
“Alamak guys… I think I left my crocodile skin wallet in my other Mercedes,” he stutter. (Everyone knows he take Bus 858 one). “Can someone tompang me first? Next time I belanja you all A5 Wagyu.”
The Fallout
After we pay for his expensive beer (again), we walk past the coffeeshop near his house. Uncle Lim and the gang were there, shirtless, drinking cold beer and laughing.
Ah Lai still want to act. “Look at them, so low class. No refinement.”
Then his phone ring. It was his mother. He accidentally put on speakerphone.
“LAI AH! Why you still haven’t pay the $50 you owe the cai fan auntie? She say you always order fish but no money to pay! Come home now and eat the leftover porridge!”
The whole group just keep quiet. Even the uncle at the next table also can hear.
Ah Lai’s face turn bright red—same color as those plastic stools he hate so much. He never say anything, just walk fast-fast (well, as fast as a fat man can waddle) back to his HDB block.
Moral of the story: Don’t act like a King if your bank account is a peasant. If you no money, just drink your kopi-o at the coffeeshop and be happy lah! At least there, nobody will judge you for ordering double fish.