Random Strangers

And so we have the service counters. The places where stories are told, where futures unfold. Here we find the mishmash of people, the investment banker in a suit from Merryl Lynch, the chinese national who was rejected one year ago, the PhD students who're dressed to the nines and are going for their internship, who make singlish sound -classy-, the softspoken MNC engineer who travels a lot and whose previous 10 year visa expired. The Other Chinese National who's with his mum who only speaks in dialect. Everyone with a story to tell. Some dressed expecting a board interview, full suits, formal skirt suits and long-sleeved shirted people. Then there's Bryan Wong, in a beach Tshirt, broadshorts and sandals who obviously knew what to expect. There's a man now to whom english isn't his first language, parroting everything the American is saying behind the counter.

"put your left index finger on the scanner please"
"left index finger"
"no sir, your left hand"
"left hand."
"no, your OTHER left hand."
"left hand."
"yes sir thank you"
"thank you"

He's wearing grey socks with his black shoes.

There's a pregnant woman in the queue. There are empty seats in the waiting area.


So here're the nervous, the confused, the bored. The businessman in his armani waiting along with the young man in jeans and new balance shoes. The guy behind the counter just rejected someone "1 week more of additional paperwork", no excuse given. The PhD student whimpers and watches. People are still coming in, 30 minutes before closing time. The room reminds me of a hospital waiting area, but waiting at KMC has taught me well. It's not even remotely boring yet. The pair of PhD students have gone now, ecstatic that they've got their visas in time. They fly friday.

Here are the stories to be written. Their futures decided by someone behind a marble counter and thick glass - bulletproof, of course - who have no other information other than what basic biodata you provided them in the form. Do they decide your risk factor based on a combination of what's filled in fields 1, 4, 7 and 13b? I admire them, though, their ability to greet people cheerfully after 100s of other people. I suppose they have their job perks too:

"So your name is candy."
"yes."
"don't you think that's a very suggestive name?"
"Well apparently my mum thought it was a good idea."
....
"so why are you working in singapore airlines?"
"For the moneeey."
"not because *bimbo voice* 'oh i like flying and meeting new people, teeheehee!'? that's a very singaporean way of looking at things, 'for the moneeyyy'"
*nervous laugh*
"what do you do in singapore airlines?"
"F&B -- food and beverage"
"so what's your favouriate food?"
"er, i don't really like the food."
"So what's your favourite beverage, then?"
"I've developed a taste for the orange juice..."
"So if you were to serve me a drink, what would you serve me?"
"er, alcoholic or non-alcoholic?"
"with alcohol, of Cooourse!"
"how about a dry martini?"
"okay, how do you make a dry martini?"
"well, fill 2/3rds of the glass with gin....."

I look at the guy next to me and smile. He smiles back.
"I suppose he's trying to make sure she's really a stewardess," he says
"er, yea, perhaps." I reply.

sitting in the front row has its perks.