Lamchui, south side. Stuck in this fucking kopicha for what feels like weeks. Hey, it's probably only been 2 hours. Probably.
That's the thing, really. Life just seems to blend together when you're here. One minute you're in your apartment, next you're ordering
the same old meal as you've had for months, next you're trying to paint smiles on your soul for the sake of the exact same deadbeats that care as much as you do,
except they're actually allowed to tell you, because they won't get fired. Oh, jewel, some fella's flailing his arms around with a headset. On my shift. With
the fucking sign up. It says, "NO VR DEVICES". Of course those fuckers can't read. They've got that shit strapped to their head. Probably wired in, too.
Think some people actually do that.

OK, Nick, standard procedure, grab their attention, then watch them go apeshit.
I tapped on the table as he was muttering to himself. No dice. I yelled. Null. Fuck it, it's our property, our rules. I yanked it off. He was wild eyed, with
a slight dent in his nose. I didn't give a shit, I pointed to the sign, and got back a "fuck, what?" "No VR headsets in here, boss is an old-timer. Speaking
of which, may I take your order, sir?" I responded. He blinked. His eyes didn't seem to want to focus. "Oh, yeah, Nexus is doing this small businesses promotion,
so I'm gonna get points here, right?" Hesitation, then action, "yeah, it's anything non-NEMO." "Toast. Kaya Toast. You got that Maomicha?" I nodded, "Fried egg, too?"
"No thanks. Eggs don't agree with me." What? You're some kind of dissenting political figure for them? Heh. I'm funny.
Scribbled down his order, and set to work. Boss had recently ordered one of those fancy toasters you see at hotels, ya know, the ones with the conveyor?
Anyway, slipped the white bread in, and scrambled around to find the oolong. Maomicha's all the rage on OmegaVid, it's like this hybrid of a latte and the sort
of crap tea you'd get at a Dim Sum place, naturally with a milk froth cute cat on top to attract the clicks. Making the cat is a pain in the ass. Got the oolong.
Tang-Teng, too. Boss says he's got a good supplier. Just gonna let that steep a little... I call out to the screenhead out front, "Hey, how strong you want it?"
"As strong as possible" That's five minutes then. I tell him. Thank fuck. He's OK with it. The toast finally klunks out, cut, spread, cut, spread. Kaya, butter.
Damn, I love the smell of Kaya, sweet, and you get that coconut smell, too. I slide it over to Mister Screenhead, fucker starts wrecking it instantly.
I don't know if he's hungry, or just really likes Kaya Toast. Honestly, can't blame him if it's the second option. I head back behind the counter.
It's just me, the greasy tile walls, and that flourescent light that the boss refuses to fix. Fucking hum. Milk comes out of the fridge, I get the steamer.
Everything's set. Just need that Tang-Teng withering throats, now. Fuck. Can't do anything. Don't like just sitting around. I peek out into the open.
He's waiting too. Man, we're all probably waiting for something. Just not some OV clickbait tea. Finally. Five minutes. I strain the oolong out, and start frothing
the milk. He looks antsy, like he's waiting for something to get back. Probably not the tea. I slide it over, and like some sort of quick draw master, he
whips out his phone and snaps, all in a single motion. Holy shit. 30,0000 followers on OV, and looks like he's a serial Carmine addict, too. No wonder he
was waltzing in here with that strapped to his face.

Back here again, glad I have Nasi Lemak to help me. The sambal always reminds me I can feel shit. Here we go. Yet another shift.

Some Sarimen, grabbing something quick on their way to work.
A foreign dude yelling about how "exotic" our food is to millions of fans.
Why the absolute fuck is that dude ordering 16 fried eggs and a single Kopi O?
Shit, he's back again. Apparently he forgot his friend's drink, Teh C.
Finally, some normal people. Ordering Laksa. Sweet Laksa. Think I'll make some for myself at lunch.
Why are you yelling at me? I did every last thing you asked out of me, and yet here we are.

It's lunch. Some girl rolls around. I roll up to her table, and she greets me with "Man, this place is exactly the same."
"Huh?"
"Oh, dad brought me here when I was like, three. It's exactly the same. Just a little grimier."
"Yeah, sorry, I haven't really figured out how to--"
"Laksa, please. And it's alright. People tend to worry about that too much."

Dang, well, ok, if you say so. Heh. Nice to have someone who understands. Oh, wait, "Chicken or Beef?" "Surprise me!" Guess we need to use some more beef,
so we're getting that. Uh, she's getting that. Wait. It's lunchtime, I want laksa too. OK, focus. Around back. Let's start. Noodles boiled. Paste in.
Beef cooked. Beef in. Egg cooked. Egg in. Wait, fuck, noodles in. Veggies in too. I slide the bowl over, holding mine in hand. She looks up, "oh, who's that
bowl for?" I confess, "Me." "Oh, you on break?" "Sort of." I respond. "You look tired, want to sit with me?"

Fuck.
Was I supposed to? OK, anything Cai Su said about interacting with customers? Don't think that's a "yes"... Come on, you've talked to girls before...

I sit. I hear "Hard work, eh?" coming from the girl. "I mean, it is sometimes. Maocha is a pain in the ass to make." She smiles. "Really? I was going to order
some. With palm sugar." I look down at my untouched Laksa, then take a deep breath through my nose, getting up. "I'll put it to brew." She stopped me.
"It's ok, milk tea always tastes better after Laksa, in my opinion." I resume my place, and finally, start my Laksa.
"Nice to finally sit with someone." I blurt out.