WHEN the TODAY newsroom was located in Raffles Place, I experienced the workplace hazards of a typical executive: Jostling with starched-shirted crowds in front of OUB Centre, having my ears pop in the elevator, and arriving at the Golden Shoe food centre at lunchtime only to find packs of tissues on every unoccupied seat.
Since our newsroom relocated to MediaCorp HQ on Caldecott Hill about two years ago, it's been a completely different circus. Here, my chief workplace hazard is ... Killer monkeys. Dun-dun-dunnn.
I've lived to tell the tale (thus far), but I'm still not entirely sure whether "I survived a monkey attack" gets me bragging rights down at the pub.
It all began one day when I "da-baoed" a box of tau huay in to work. I got off the bus and started to cross the overhead bridge - as I do every day to get to the office - when, suddenly, there was a strong tug on the plastic bag. Thinking it must be a cheeky colleague trying to get my attention, I held on tight. Turning, I saw no one there.
But then I looked down and saw him. A large brown monkey sitting on his haunches, watching me with beady eyes that betrayed his culprit status.
He stared at me. I stared at him. We stared at each other. Discordant violins screeched in the background.
The bag had been ripped, but the tau huay was, happily, intact. I grabbed it and ran. Literally.
This is why you'll never see me wearing heels to work. Our premises are located in close proximity to MacRitchie Reservoir, home to all kinds of wildlife. And when I say "wild", I mean red in tooth and claw, but also accustomed to humans - and not in the least fearful or shy.
People toting colourful plastic bags from hawker centres and food courts are, I suppose, fair game to a monkey out on the hunt whose wives (assuming polygamy in the species) and kids are counting on him to bring home the bananas. And we can't blame them - after all, our buildings, roads and motorways have steadily encroached into their habitats, leaving them little choice.
Still - since when do monkeys like tau huay?
What's more, the not-so-little critters don't just attempt daylight beancurd robbery. They also waylay, ambush and mob. Imagine my shock when I climbed the stairs on another occasion, only to find a swarm of them, covering the bridge like a brown, furry sea of monkey, basking in the afternoon sun.
There had to be at least 30 or 40 of them, congregating en masse as if they were at some kind of political rally, or the unveiling of a designer collection at H&M. To make up the numbers, they had even brought their women and children: Some of the primates had little ones hanging off their undersides. Who's to say the tau huay robber hadn't canvassed support from all his wives and neighbours, saying, "We won't let her get away this time"? He was no Curious George, that's for sure.
Uncertain of what to do, I stopped in my tracks. That was when they all turned and started running in my direction. I remember turning to run. I also remember thinking, "Goodness, these monkeys are fast." The rest is a little hazy.
"Fighting off tiny animals for food might be a recurring theme in your life," mused my friend, unsympathetically. "It's very Greek tragedy. It is because of lives like yours that people invented specific Greek gods. Like 'God Who Protects Me From Various Tiny Animals'."
I protested. "Those monkeys are bigger than your dog!"
And yet, in the midst of it all, I'm aware that I could have it a lot worse. I am actually very fond of animals (although food muggers ought to take a course in etiquette). Creepy crawlies, however, are a different matter.
A pal of mine who works in an urban environment far from any nature reserve (like most normal people) was given a new office chair. Shortly after, she developed a mysterious bumpy rash on the elbows. It was diagnosed as mite bites, and she consequently had to dump the chair and load up on antihistamines. Monkeys at least are mammals.
On the other hand, people (also mammals) can be, quite literally, even bigger workplace hazards, as another good buddy can attest. She shares a tiny room with a guy whose voice can be heard all the way from the pantry. This particular Loud Howard's favourite pasttime is starting belligerent conversations about politics and religion. My friend has had to shell out big bucks on some noise-cancelling headphones.
All the same, though, he's never ripped off her tau huay.
The writer is a features writer at Today.
http://www.todayonline.com/Columns/EDC110122-0000145/Monkey-business
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