Just another Saturday afternoon in Orchard. And it looked a good one for a glass of Starbucks' frappuccino.

A girl approached me with some kind of writing pad in hand and a smile. Which -- in Orchard -- was never good.

"Hi. Can I have a minute of your time?" Told you it was never good. Of course you can't.

"Sure," heard myself say in spite of me. The girl brightened.

"Great. You see, sir, we are from..." Oh, shoot! I forgot to top up my EZ Link card.

"...helping children with disabilities..." A politically correct term, that's good.

"... as well as senior citizens..." And another one, they surely prepared her well.

"...integrating with the society..." I think I'd better take the train, then. Since I have to top up anyway.

"...currently supporting more than a thousand of children..." Oh no, she won't stop talking!

She finally did. For a few seconds anyway. And after ending the monologue with, "...so would you like to help the children and senior citizens?"

No, of course not. There's no way I would like to help the children and senior citizens. "All right." She was all smile now.

"...our name card and copy of license, to show that I am indeed with the organization..." Actually, with my Photoshop and printer at home I could produce a better-quality copy of license. Not to mention logo.

"...can be sure that the donation will go to them..." Right, right. Out with the number already.

"...fill this form..." Huh, what! A thousand dollars, two thousand, five thousand!

It must have shown somewhere on my face because she hurriedly added, "You can also donate five or ten."

Phew. I fished my wallet out. There goes another ten.

Or not. To my almost-relief, in my wallet there were only two twos and a five. I shrugged and passed her the five. "Five okay?"

She nodded excitedly, so it clearly was. "Thank you very much, sir. Thank you." Then she started struggling with her bag to get something out.

"We have a token of appreciation..." Of course, there has to be a token of appreciation. In this country anyway.

The token turned out to be some discount voucher. Not for Starbucks, unfortunately.

"Would you like to fill in your personal information? We will send you updates on those that you have supported." More fumbling ensued. This time with the writing pad.

"That won't be necessary, thanks." As an afterthought -- fearing I might have appeared rude, even after the five bucks -- I turned around and added, "And good luck." She grinned appreciatively.

With the voucher in one hand and my wallet in the other, I was boarding the bus when the EZ Link card reader beeped loudly. "Insufficient fund," it flashed in protest. The driver -- a large lady -- looked at me. As did everyone else on the bus, it felt.

I sighed and reluctantly took out one of the 2-dollar notes. "Nevermind," I told the driver when she said there would be no change given. With that, I sat down and looked out of the window.

Just another Saturday afternoon in Orchard.

Current music: none
Current mood: happy