Les Petits Contes

About life's little observations, which matter. About hilarious situations, which illuminate. About stories which offer immense possibilities, open endings, different interpretations and perspectives.

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Location: Singapore

A nature lover; sun-worshipper, manic book-collector, dessert-devourer and a magnet for hazards

Saturday, January 22, 2011


Lately I have been commenting on the ugliness of our bosses’ unreasonable yelling. How uncouth. How unprofessional. How pathetic.

How can they do this so regularly, without hurting their vocal cords, their health and their peace of mind?!

Ya, how?! I am still reeling from my own bout of screaming two nights ago. I am still shocked with my ferocity and ‘’uncouth madness’’, and nursing a painful throat. I looked like an insane woman just escaped from the mental hospital. It was so intense that, if I had been near my targets, and had a weapon, stone, or chair with me – whatever that can kill – I would have committed homicide.

Such was my rage. But at least I have one consolation – I had good reason for it. It was not ‘’wrongful accusation’’. In fact, it was for a recurring wrongful act! And my bosses were ‘’right’’ after all – yelling does shock and stun your targets, and it does get things done the way you want, or give you your desired outcome.

I am referring to the recurring noisy renovation work late at night, at the shopping mall next to my block. Years of complaints, tomes of letters and appeals to MPs, town councils, police and the National Environment Agency (NEA) have not solved the issue at the root – the management of the mall (a huge local conglomerate – you can guess who) is so ‘’influential’’ locally that it can afford to brush aside any complaint that comes their way.

My last complaint was in late July when they indiscriminately carried out renovation to the shops from 11.30 pm till past 1.00 am in the morning. Subsequently there were other ‘’smaller renovations’’ which I’d tolerated. A flurry of letters ensued – including a couple of cover your ass, empty, hypocritical stock phrase replies, arrogant I don’t give a damned rebuttals, bald faced lies and denials from the mall management, the police and the NEA, letters meant for the MP wrongly sent to me (by the incompetent bungling police), etc etc. Barely five months later, the mall started the noisy hacking and drilling again two nights ago, at 11.20 pm, right up to midnight.

This time I rang the NEA four times, 999 once and my neighbourhood police at least four times, during the whole time that the noise destroyed the peace of the night.

I decided to take things into my own hands. I leant out of my kitchen window, and yelled at the construction workers for what seemed like an eternity. Yes, the mall is that near my block – that I could watch them work and they could hear me. So imagine the din I’ve had to put up with all these years.

I yelled and yelled. And yelled somemore, at the top of my lungs, at the risk of losing my voice and spewing blood from my throat. All the four letter words and expletives that I’ve not had the pleasure of using on all the mother f**kers (especially bosses) I’ve met in my entire life: ‘’You! F**k you, F**k you, f**k you, F**k you, F**k you, f**k you! Stop now or you’re in deep sh*t. I’ve already called the police! Stop immediately, you mother f**ker, you b*s***d, you son of a b**ch! F**k you, f**k you, F**k you, F**k you, f**k you! Stop I say, F **k you! F **k you. F**K !!!’’

Whoa! Yes, that was what I’d screamed. You don’t recognize me? I didn’t recognize myself either. Actually I’d gone into overdrive. ‘Cos, at the first ‘’f**k you’’, the construction workers jolted, stopped and looked at my direction, stunned. The security guard came running to the scene and motioned for them to stop. But I continued yelling expletives, unstoppable, like a runner on auto pilot, like the recent flood on Orchard Road that had the authorities caught ‘’unawares’’, determined to cause destruction. The neighbours murmured, fearing that I had gone bersek and that they would have to live with a lunatic in their block.

But hey, peace at last! Silence. Hah, better, and more efficient than the police, the NEA and the MP. I suppressed my giggle, as I visualized how I must have looked – livid, and completely crazed.

I still could not get back to sleep. My throat felt like swallowing needles. I gargled with salt water, sucked a mint, and seethed and simmered.

The next day, I calmly composed two letters - one to tell the NEA how ineffective and completely irresponsible they’d been (they sent me an sms at 1.11 am asking ME to call THEM back to get an update!), and another to tell the mall management that their ability to prosper despite their greed and inhuman practice is beyond human comprehension.

I await for their cr**p replies...


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