Chip is a friend. Chip is also what we Malaysians would affectionately call a “kiam siap Chinaman.” The term, while not a racial slur, is a blend of affection and mockery— half admiration for thriftiness, half exasperation at Scrooge-like tendencies. But Chip? He wears the label proudly.
His legendary ability to piece together the best deals from direct mailer coupons is akin to a Sudoku grandmaster at work. Every week, he meticulously scans through leaflets with laser focus, then proudly announces his findings in our WhatsApp chat group like a town crier of bargains.
Visiting Chip’s office is like stepping into a survivalist’s warehouse— cartons of tetrapacked herbal cooling tea, stacks of duty-not-paid cigarettes (even though he doesn’t smoke) and boxes of instant noodles from past food trends.
Some might call it hoarding. Chip prefers to see himself as a collector of deals. Scoring great savings isn’t just a habit– it’s his life’s passion. In the poker game of life, he always doubles down on Adam Smith’s invisible hand.
A few months back, Chip excitedly called me about his latest money-saving discovery. During his usual Saturday morning coffee and kaya toast ritual at his neighborhood kopitiam– where he’s been a loyal patron for two decades— he overheard a group of aunties discussing their recent purchase of Cambodian chicks.
“Baby chicks?” I interrupted, giving him a look of utter disbelief.
Chip, unfazed, explained that these chicks would grow into Cambodian variants of the Red Jungle Fowl, renowned for their egg-laying superpowers. He then launched into an exhaustive breakdown of poultry species and their egg production efficiency per kilogram of feed.
While impressed with his analysis, I ultimately decided that turning my home into a chicken farm just to save a few bucks on eggs was a bridge too far. Chip, undeterred, went ahead and bought half a dozen chicks anyway.
I’ll be checking in soon to see if his egg empire hatches… or if he’s just ended up with six very judgmental pets.