Makcik-Makcik

Since my transfer to this office, I have seen many makciks. I swear there are more makciks than there are men here all four blocks combined, and all because there is a government department housed here, taking up two whole floors. Unless you include the Arab men who always hang at the Coffee Bean outlet downstairs. But they don’t work here. They just hang around for nothing.

There are five F&B outlets and one convenience store located at this complex. Only one of the F&B outlets allow you to have meals for less than RM10 inclusive of drinks and fruits. Therefore, that one is always filled to the brim with people. I am normally in the office by 5 past 8am. After reading and replying to my e-mails, I would go down for a bite and tea. That would be around 9.15am. You will see these makciks talking but not listening to themselves. That is because when one hits the 125dB limit, the other will just hit the roof with her reserve high-pitch capability. They would be wearing this government department’s tag. And they were there at 9.15am.

And although my lunchtime is from noon for an hour, I would normally go down at 1pm. That el-cheapo outlet would still be filled to the brim with these makciks. So, usually I’d go to the nearby mamak that would slaughter me with a RM15 lunch sans drinks. I am just too lazy to cross the road to eat at a somewhat pricey ikan bakar joint behind one of the first tall structures in this area.

This morning, I had breakfast at 9.15am. As usual, the place was filled to the brim. The din the makciks were making was short of medieval torture, for lucky me (only this instance), I suffer from tinnitus; therefore noise in whatever form, hardly makes any difference to me. There was this makcik (who is probably 5 years younger than I am, but look far older) who was bitching about her husband who dropped her off on the wrong side of the road this morning. She went on and on and on about how she screamed at her husband, and how the husband looked petrified after the scolding. I would too if I were married to her! And she wouldn’t have to even scream for me to look like that! She has that face like she has never known orgasm before! She reminds me of a former coursemate of mine who’s a year younger, but looks like she’s qualified for old-age pension.

When I left the table, she was still there with her friends who were trying to pry for more juicy stories.

Then I decided to have an early lunch today – early by my standards. By noon I was already at the F&B place. There were bank workers queuing up for packed lunch, then there was a group of noisy makciks sitting at one corner.

IT WAS THE SAME GODDAMNED GROUP OF MAKCIKS, AND THE SAME MAKCIK WAS STILL TALKING ABOUT HOW HER USELESS HUSBAND DROPPED HER OFF ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!!!

Don’t these people ever work?

So, there I was, eating my lunch while listening to a re-run of “how my bastard of a husband dropped me off on the wrong side of the road” praying with every heartbeat that her husband finds a hottie who would blow him every other minute or so in front of this annoying and noisy bitch.

Then it dawned upon me that I’d be listening to similar stories from her tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after…