And there I sat, staring vacantly at nameless, faceless crowd around me. Perhaps, in a different situation, my disdain for people might not have been so obvious. Today, however, every iota of it showed in my body language. Shoulders slumped, arms folded, eyes slight crossed. Pests, every one of them. A blight on my very existence.
Well, okay; maybe I exeggerate for effect. But I do find this particular crowd particularly more annoying than any other crowd on any other day. Particularly.
It's 8 o' clock on a Saturday morning, and I'm at my car service centre. The balloon of optimism I had the day before about beating the crowd by waking up early was deflated.. nay, popped by these dozens of dodgy looking characters who all apparently had the same idea. Old women in flip flops. Fat men with questionable hygiene habits. That young lady who I might find quite attractive if she wasn't in front of me in the queue. And oh, what a queue it is. But not in a literal sense. Here, let me explain.
What you have to do once you enter the centre is this. 'This' being placing your service booklet into a book rack, sitting down and waiting for it to be collected by one of the service attendants, and after a quick discussion about what needs to be done, the actual waiting for your car to be serviced. The whole system collapses at step one. Your books become your representative - and this is where it all breaks down.
See, it's a lot easier for someone to move their book in front of yours in the rack than moving their body in front of yours in an actual queue (though perhaps only marginally so). Everytime someone gets up to 'check' their service booklets (for what? scratches?), they pick up their book, flip through a few pages, then place it back in a position that looks suspiciously quite dissimiliar to the original order; I could've sworn my book was ahead just a second ago . Such. Sneaky. Bastards.
Of course, being Malaysian, those who notice this little repugnant act (which is a majority of the the queue) choose to keep quiet. Sure, we seethe inwards. Perhaps mumble about the "inconsideration of some people" and "how they have no shame". But outright confrontation is unheard of. So, how do those who feel wronged retaliate? Why, by doing the exact same thing of course.
What transpires is a hilarious, farcical pantomime straight out of a bad covert ops movie; with everyone trying to outdo each other in the sneaky deparment. One mirrors the first person's strategy, but makes it more realistic by looking genuinely perplexed and flipping through the pages a lot more. One makes a big show of picking up his booklet from the rack and proclaiming loudly that he might just come back another day, before asking how much longer he has to wait, nods approvingly at the answer, then places it at the front of the stack. The service attendant, luckily, spots his attempt and throws his booklet back towards the end. I have to say, plaudits for the guy's effort. But surely the concept of stealth is based around actually being discreet. Guess he missed that class at spy camp.
The one that takes the cake, however, is the guy who insists that he has to be served first because he has someone waiting to pick him up. When the service attendant tells him that it's just not possible, he asks "What am I supposed to do?" with all the self righteousness in the world, and in rather loud tones. I'll tell you what you're supposed to do, buddy. Sit down, shut up, and wait like everybody else. Hell, turn pseudo-CIA Agent if you have to. Just don't expect preferential treatment because you're lucky enough to have someone pick you up in five minutes.
I am now sitting at a mamak near the centre. I did survive the whole ordeal only to be informed that my car requires a more comprehensive servicing than initially though; It's a three hour wait. My laptop is running out of battery, and I've just realized I left my handphone at home. Also, I think I need to go potty.
Rough morning? Doesn't even cut the top ten.
