The Geylang Ah Beng is More Real Than Your Corporate Colleagues
I’m sitting here in my 10th meeting of the week, listening to “Senior Stakeholders” use words like synergy, alignment, and holistic transformation, and I’ve reached my breaking point.
Last night, I was at a Lorong 29 coffee shop eating zi char. Next to me was a classic Ah Beng—gold chain, tattoos, cigarette tucked behind the ear, speaking Hokkien at a volume that would make a HR manager faint.
Here’s the thing: I trusted that guy more within five minutes than I trust anyone in my office.
1. No “Corporate Mask”
In the office, everyone is a character in a play. You ask how someone is, and they give you the “Living the dream!” or “Busy but productive!” smile while their eyes scream for help.
The Ah Beng? If he’s unhappy, you know. If he thinks the food is trash, he says it. If he likes you, he buys you a beer. There is zero “curating” of his persona to fit a LinkedIn algorithm. He is 100% himself, take it or leave it.
2. Radical Honesty vs. Passive Aggression
If an Ah Beng has a problem with you, he settles it right there. It’s loud, it’s colorful, and then it’s over.
In the corporate world? If someone has a problem with you, they send a “per my last email” CC-ing your boss, or they “loop in” five other people to undermine you under the guise of “transparency.” It’s a slow-acting poison versus a quick punch. I’d take the punch any day.
3. The Definition of “Loyalty”
In Corporate Singapore, “loyalty” means staying until 9 PM to hit a KPI for a company that would replace you in 24 hours if you dropped dead.
In Geylang, loyalty actually means something. If you’re his kaki, he’s got your back. There’s a code of conduct that isn’t written in an Employee Handbook but is actually followed.
4. Language That Actually Means Something
I am tired of “circling back.” I am tired of “touching base.”
The Ah Beng speaks in a way that is efficient and visceral. It’s raw, it’s unfiltered, and it’s authentic. When he says he’ll do something, he does it because his reputation (his “face”) depends on it—not because he’s worried about a performance review.
TL;DR: I’d rather deal with a loud, swearing Ah Beng in Geylang who tells me exactly where I stand than spend another hour navigating the fake smiles and backstabbing politeness of a CBD office.
At least in Geylang, you know who the snakes are. In the office, they wear Patagonia vests and carry overpriced lattes.