Started on my week long break. The hiatus from one and all. No exceptions, except pre-approved applications. I marked my last day before the break shocking the hell out of one of the aircraft marshallers we work with.
Aircraft marshallers are the dudes who wear reflective gloves, ear defenders and basically help an aircraft to park. The spot to stop is usually denoted by a little yellow T, quite impossible to guage from the cockpit of an aircraft. Hence, a little thing like the height of an aircraft has spawned thousands of jobs for a needed role. The wonders of job creation. These dudes are also often what controllers are mistaken for by old aunties and uncles and unshockingly also the younger ones like Gen X/Y-ers. A typical conversation:
Ah Soh: Boyyyyy, where you working?
Me: Air force.
Ah Soh: Pilot ah.
Me: No. Controller.
Ah Soh: Oh, the one stand in front and do like this like this one ah. [gestures hands like marshaller]
Me: No. In the glass tower.
Ah Soh: Oh, "roger roger" ah.
Me: Yes, I say it 50,000 times a day.
Fuck all youuneducated, ignorant fools.
In other news, Nal and me went on a grand dame tour. The coming of the full moon tour. Butter was boring. New Asia had typical Bhangra-ites [maybe they missed the boat to the gig at Indochine] and Attica was just too smoky. Overall we got smashed. Life's good. Pity we had to ditch the Esplanade material. There's always Google.
Do you notice that anytime guys from work or your buddies need to plan to meet or go someplace and they all drive, the conversation steers to "the route with no ERP". And then you get people with photographic memory trying to close their eyes and mentally drive through the roads in question. Hilarious but important. That 50 cents, that 1 buck goes a long way.
Never ask my Dad for directions. Firstly, it is an opening to let him do his necessary CID work. I believe he harbours an inner desire to be a cop. I relate the occurrence:
Me: Pa, how to get to Park Mall from here without hitting ERP?
Dad: What day you need to go?
Me: Weekday night, about 6 pm.
Dad: What time?
Me: I just told you.
Dad: Oh ya, will kena ERP during that time la.
Me: Don't I know that? That's why I'm asking if there's some way not to go through the gantry?
Dad: Hmmm. Ok, take CTE and come out Cairnhill.
Me: Uh huh.
Dad: Go down Scotts Road then Paterson and turn into River Valley Road.
Me: Ok.
Dad: Then go past your "area" [MS] and make a left turn at Tank Road temple.
Me: Go on. [quite impressed that I'm getting a solution here]
Dad: Then just stop before the ERP and walk over la.
Me: ???!?!#?!@?#?@!?#?!@#!@??!@$?!?#$?#$?#?$? Stop and walk!
Dad: Aiya, just take the bloody train la then don't need to worry about ERP.
Me: I give up.
You know wan. [this is for you Gina]
Aircraft marshallers are the dudes who wear reflective gloves, ear defenders and basically help an aircraft to park. The spot to stop is usually denoted by a little yellow T, quite impossible to guage from the cockpit of an aircraft. Hence, a little thing like the height of an aircraft has spawned thousands of jobs for a needed role. The wonders of job creation. These dudes are also often what controllers are mistaken for by old aunties and uncles and unshockingly also the younger ones like Gen X/Y-ers. A typical conversation:
Ah Soh: Boyyyyy, where you working?
Me: Air force.
Ah Soh: Pilot ah.
Me: No. Controller.
Ah Soh: Oh, the one stand in front and do like this like this one ah. [gestures hands like marshaller]
Me: No. In the glass tower.
Ah Soh: Oh, "roger roger" ah.
Me: Yes, I say it 50,000 times a day.
Fuck all you
In other news, Nal and me went on a grand dame tour. The coming of the full moon tour. Butter was boring. New Asia had typical Bhangra-ites [maybe they missed the boat to the gig at Indochine] and Attica was just too smoky. Overall we got smashed. Life's good. Pity we had to ditch the Esplanade material. There's always Google.
Do you notice that anytime guys from work or your buddies need to plan to meet or go someplace and they all drive, the conversation steers to "the route with no ERP". And then you get people with photographic memory trying to close their eyes and mentally drive through the roads in question. Hilarious but important. That 50 cents, that 1 buck goes a long way.
Never ask my Dad for directions. Firstly, it is an opening to let him do his necessary CID work. I believe he harbours an inner desire to be a cop. I relate the occurrence:
Me: Pa, how to get to Park Mall from here without hitting ERP?
Dad: What day you need to go?
Me: Weekday night, about 6 pm.
Dad: What time?
Me: I just told you.
Dad: Oh ya, will kena ERP during that time la.
Me: Don't I know that? That's why I'm asking if there's some way not to go through the gantry?
Dad: Hmmm. Ok, take CTE and come out Cairnhill.
Me: Uh huh.
Dad: Go down Scotts Road then Paterson and turn into River Valley Road.
Me: Ok.
Dad: Then go past your "area" [MS] and make a left turn at Tank Road temple.
Me: Go on. [quite impressed that I'm getting a solution here]
Dad: Then just stop before the ERP and walk over la.
Me: ???!?!#?!@?#?@!?#?!@#!@??!@$?!?#$?#$?#?$? Stop and walk!
Dad: Aiya, just take the bloody train la then don't need to worry about ERP.
Me: I give up.
You know wan. [this is for you Gina]
2 comments:
ehh. there's gotta be a hierarchy in this world, this utopia (or not) is built on the backs of others. so uneducated fools are essential.
looks like i read too.
cheers.
is this cranko add not valid no more?
Post a Comment