Irritation sans Proportion
It was a couple of days ago when I first received an SMS from one of my friends saying that from 4pm to 8pm on the 9th of August, Singapore's National Day (akin to other nations' Independence Day or Founder's Day or Declaration Day or whatever), there would be a nationwide discount of 40% for petrol. This would apply to every single petrol kiosk in the nation, regardless of service provider or brand of petrol.
Extremely believable, because for one thing, I did not just receive the SMS from one person. I had a whole slew of friends messaging me and forwarding messages to each other. A check with my colleagues both close and no-so-close revealed that the SMS was making rounds everywhere. For another thing, the SMS was written in a very Reuters, matter-of-factly way that seemed to brook no nonsense. No hahas behind the SMS, no smiley faces. And for a third thing, it was eminently believable in that it made sense to only have 40% discount for 4 hours because it was Singapore's 40th birthday afterall. By the way, my dearest country, you have officially reached middle-age. Congratulations...
Anyways, like any other kiasu Singaporean, I woke up nice and early before my night shift today, and went down to my friendly neighbourhood Mobil Petrol kiosk. My heart of course skipped a beat when I saw this long snakey queue outside the entrance, made up of cars with drivers eagerly waiting to take advantage of the 40% petrol discount just like me. Fortunately, especially since it is my friendly neighbourhood petrol kiosk, I knew a back way in. That I duly used. And so there I was awaiting eagerly for my turn at the pumps. Nipped in ahead of this gleaming black Beemer (I think the driver showed me his middle finger, but not sure lah), hopped out of my imitation Mini and yodelled to the pump attendant: Man dao bu neng zai man, which meant in Mandarin to fill 'er to the brim. I then bounced happily into the kiosk mini-mart, believing all was right in the world and the birds were singing just for me.
Did my spot of shopping and then proceeded to the cashier's to pay. It wasn't until I was merrily traipsing to my car that I happened to glance at the receipt I held in my hand. There wasn't a discount of 40%. In that instant, the world came crashing down around my ears. Actually no lah. But it came close. I mean, what happened to all those well meaning SMSes I received from my friends who wanted nothing but to share a bit of joy and goodwill lobang with me? You mean they weren't true? That it was all a pack of lies? Irritation set in. I got angsty.
It wasn't until I was halfway to work that I realised that no one, and I mean no one had really ever verified that the information in the SMSes were true. I just took it on good faith that the information was true and that I was in for a good deal. Sigh. Oh well. Of course all my buddies and I agree that if we were ever to find out who perpetrated the hoax and lay our hands on him, we would flay his skin from his flesh inch by inch, pour Ax brand medicated oil on all the exposed parts, then add salt, and then vinegar, all the while recording his screams of agony on our collective MP3 players.
But seriously, there were like so-o-o-o many drivers out there taken in by the same misleading piece of information as I. In every petrol kiosk I passed by on my way to work, the same scene of spaghetti queues snaking away from the entrance of the kiosk was repeated. I'd bet my last dollar every one of those drivers also thought they were in for a great deal. If you think about it, had this been a working day, the number of productive man-hours lost would have been horrendous. The perpetrator might have thought that it was a harmless joke, and to most extents it is. But things might have gone wrong. It didn't happen at the kiosk I was at, but I can just imagine that at other petrol stations all across the island, irate drivers were furiously banging on the counters, demanding their 40% discounts of the petrol they pumped. And all the frazzled service staff trying to placate the drivers, explaining it was all a hoax. Things could have been really bad.
I sort of hope that tomorrow's papers will actually carry articles of the Ugly Singaporean making life difficult for the petrol stations' service staff. Not because I enjoy such chaos and dissension, but because I hope (although it probably is a really faint hope) that whoever sent out the hoax in the first place will have his conscience take a big bite out of malicious joy, and make him realise how inconveniently far-reaching his actions were.
Rot in hell, you dirty petrol discount SMS sender.
Extremely believable, because for one thing, I did not just receive the SMS from one person. I had a whole slew of friends messaging me and forwarding messages to each other. A check with my colleagues both close and no-so-close revealed that the SMS was making rounds everywhere. For another thing, the SMS was written in a very Reuters, matter-of-factly way that seemed to brook no nonsense. No hahas behind the SMS, no smiley faces. And for a third thing, it was eminently believable in that it made sense to only have 40% discount for 4 hours because it was Singapore's 40th birthday afterall. By the way, my dearest country, you have officially reached middle-age. Congratulations...
Anyways, like any other kiasu Singaporean, I woke up nice and early before my night shift today, and went down to my friendly neighbourhood Mobil Petrol kiosk. My heart of course skipped a beat when I saw this long snakey queue outside the entrance, made up of cars with drivers eagerly waiting to take advantage of the 40% petrol discount just like me. Fortunately, especially since it is my friendly neighbourhood petrol kiosk, I knew a back way in. That I duly used. And so there I was awaiting eagerly for my turn at the pumps. Nipped in ahead of this gleaming black Beemer (I think the driver showed me his middle finger, but not sure lah), hopped out of my imitation Mini and yodelled to the pump attendant: Man dao bu neng zai man, which meant in Mandarin to fill 'er to the brim. I then bounced happily into the kiosk mini-mart, believing all was right in the world and the birds were singing just for me.
Did my spot of shopping and then proceeded to the cashier's to pay. It wasn't until I was merrily traipsing to my car that I happened to glance at the receipt I held in my hand. There wasn't a discount of 40%. In that instant, the world came crashing down around my ears. Actually no lah. But it came close. I mean, what happened to all those well meaning SMSes I received from my friends who wanted nothing but to share a bit of joy and goodwill lobang with me? You mean they weren't true? That it was all a pack of lies? Irritation set in. I got angsty.
It wasn't until I was halfway to work that I realised that no one, and I mean no one had really ever verified that the information in the SMSes were true. I just took it on good faith that the information was true and that I was in for a good deal. Sigh. Oh well. Of course all my buddies and I agree that if we were ever to find out who perpetrated the hoax and lay our hands on him, we would flay his skin from his flesh inch by inch, pour Ax brand medicated oil on all the exposed parts, then add salt, and then vinegar, all the while recording his screams of agony on our collective MP3 players.
But seriously, there were like so-o-o-o many drivers out there taken in by the same misleading piece of information as I. In every petrol kiosk I passed by on my way to work, the same scene of spaghetti queues snaking away from the entrance of the kiosk was repeated. I'd bet my last dollar every one of those drivers also thought they were in for a great deal. If you think about it, had this been a working day, the number of productive man-hours lost would have been horrendous. The perpetrator might have thought that it was a harmless joke, and to most extents it is. But things might have gone wrong. It didn't happen at the kiosk I was at, but I can just imagine that at other petrol stations all across the island, irate drivers were furiously banging on the counters, demanding their 40% discounts of the petrol they pumped. And all the frazzled service staff trying to placate the drivers, explaining it was all a hoax. Things could have been really bad.
I sort of hope that tomorrow's papers will actually carry articles of the Ugly Singaporean making life difficult for the petrol stations' service staff. Not because I enjoy such chaos and dissension, but because I hope (although it probably is a really faint hope) that whoever sent out the hoax in the first place will have his conscience take a big bite out of malicious joy, and make him realise how inconveniently far-reaching his actions were.
Rot in hell, you dirty petrol discount SMS sender.
posted by ekkie at 1:49 am
1 Comments:
Ai yah , some things are just too good to be true.40% disocunt ? don't kid yourself. At 15% discount. the oil companies are already saying they hardly make any money.
I too saw the snakes around petrol kiosks.But I told myself this cannot be true.Heng ah.didn't waste time.Cheapo lah u
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