I saw him out of the corner of my eye as I circled the cavernous carpark looking for a parking lot.
Full to the brim! Everyone was eating out with a vengeance after the restrictions on dining in had been lifted.
I finally found what must have been the last parking lot in this six-storey building and skilfully zipped into the narrow space, grateful that I drove a very compact vehicle.
"Madam!" he called out as I walked towards the lift.
"Wash and wax?" he asked, pushing his trolley that held two buckets, a bottle of car polish, a few towels and some sponges.
He looked like a foreign worker who was probably trying to eke out some extra income by doing this after work.
"Okay, how much?" I asked. My car was really dirty, plastered with pigeon poo (shudder). I had planned for weeks to "finally" wash my car over the weekend but had procrastinated for forever.
"$8", he replied. I rummaged through my wallet and finally gave him a ten dollar note and said, "I give you ten lah," He beamed, or at least I think his eyes beamed. I couldn't see the rest of his masked face, and he thanked me.
A split second later, a well-dressed woman got out of her parked Mercedes, walked up and asked, "How much for a car wash?"
"Ten dollars, madam", he replied.
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.
He met my gaze and whispered, "Her car is bigger."