Chapter 3 - Ten Minutes before the Interview

(I know there was a long lapse after the last post. I am not sure yet, but let's see, I may be able to explain later)

Stepping into 7-Eleven, these words play in head:
"Green light, 7-Eleven

You stop in for a pack of cigarettes
You don't smoke, don't even want to
Hey now, check your change"
 
That's right, I don't smoke.
Don't even want to. Smells bad and makes me choke.
And the way they're taxed in Singapore right now, whoever U2 is talking to won't have much change left.
 
I need something to calm my spirits after that harrowing near-death out-of-body experience.
Dutch courage, liquid courage... I need some of that. Would keep me cool for the interview too. I never liked beers, whichever country they came from. I step over to the coolers and just check one thing on the cans.
 
"11.8% alc content, sir," a friendly 500ml of Amsterdam calls out to me. Dutch you'd think, but the fierce 11.8% brute (which turns out to be a mf to drink, as I'd find out later to my detriment) hails from Toronto.
I set it down on the counter and wish they'd stop asking me this question.
 
"Are you above 18?" Yes, I reply, tired. And didn't bother offering to show my IC.
 
I exit the store and more and lean against a pillar. Style is important, was what was my varsity soccer captain once told us. Judging by our results, probably more so than winning. I crack (which is a more manly verb than pull) the tab and gulp down a big mouthful.
 
Gawd, the 11.8% is really a mf to drink!