I sit here, in the sweltering heat of the army camp, counting down the minutes until I can finally escape this hellhole and go home. But it seems like my escape is being delayed by one person – Encik Delay, the notorious NSman reservist who loves to talk and talk and talk. And the worst part? I have to endure his mindless chatter.
I know why they call him “Encik Delay” when his real name is Mr. Tan. Maybe it’s because he delays everything, from our bookout time to our precious sleep. I swear, if I hear him say “just one more thing” one more time, I might just lose my mind.
It’s lunchtime now, and we were supposed to have been released hours ago. But no, Encik Delay just had to start another one of his long-winded speeches about the importance of reservist and how it’s our duty as citizens to serve our country. Spare me the patriotic bullshit, Mr. Tan, I just want to go home and take a nice, long nap.
I try to tune him out, but his voice is like a pesky mosquito that just won’t go away. He drones on and on about his experiences in the army, like anyone gives a damn. I mean, come on, we’re all here because we have to be, not because we want to hear your war stories.
I can see my fellow soldiers getting restless, shifting in their seats and checking their watches. But Encik Delay is oblivious to their silent pleas for him to shut up and let us go home. He’s in his own little world, reliving his glory days as a soldier.
I let out a loud sigh, hoping to catch his attention and make him realize that we’re all fed up with his talking. But nope, he just keeps going, as if he’s on a mission to bore us all to death.
As I look around, I can’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. We’re all in this together, suffering through the same crap. But at least they have each other to talk to and pass the time. I’m the odd one out, the lonely soldier with no one to talk to. I guess that’s what happens when you’re an introvert in the army.
I try to remember the last time I had a meaningful conversation with someone. It must have been months ago, before I was called up for reservist. My civilian life is so different from my army life, and I much prefer the peace and quiet of the outside world.
But no, here I am, stuck in this hot, stuffy room with a bunch of sweaty men and an overly enthusiastic Encik Delay. I can feel my patience wearing thin, and I just want to scream at him to shut up and let us go home.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Encik Delay wraps up his speech and dismisses us. I practically sprint out of the room, eager to escape his clutches. As I walk towards the exit, I can hear him calling out to me, asking me to stay back for a chat. But I just keep walking, ignoring him and his desperate attempts to keep me there.
I finally step out of the camp and take a deep breath of fresh air. I’m free, at last. And I vow to myself that I will never, ever, let myself get stuck in a room with Encik Delay again. From now on, I will make sure to book out early and avoid him like the plague.
But for now, I’m just grateful to be back in the real world, where I can talk to people who actually listen and care. As I make my way home, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief and a newfound appreciation for the simple act of having a conversation. Because after spending hours with Encik Delay, I realize that sometimes, having someone to talk to is a luxury that should never be taken for granted.