The Confession of an Unemployed Singaporean

I didn’t plan to become unemployed.
Nobody ever does.
It’s not like primary school where the teacher asks,
“Next time, what do you want to be?”
And some kid says, “Unemployed with dignity.”
But here I am.

Let me confess how life quietly reorganises itself when your monthly salary disappears but your bills do not.

1. I Changed My Eating and Drinking Habits
The first thing to go was pride.
The second thing was Luckin Coffee.

Five dollars for coffee is not coffee.
It’s a lifestyle statement.
And I can no longer afford statements.

Now I drink kopi from the kopitiam.
One dollar forty cents.
Sometimes one dollar twenty if the auntie likes your face.

I study menus like a stock analyst.
Chicken or fish?
Fish costs more.
Why?
Because fish once swam.

I use the NTUC app like it’s a survival manual.
Two eggs.
Coffee.
Bread with kaya and butter.
Two dollars twenty.

Breakfast used to be “fuel for productivity.”
Now it’s “congratulations, you are still alive.”

Lunch is economical rice.
One meat.
One vegetable.
Anything more is ambition, and ambition is expensive.

Government food vouchers feel like winning a lucky draw, except the prize is groceries and humility.

2. I Wait for My CPF Monthly Payout
This is a strange phase of adulthood.
I used to wait for salary day.
Now I wait for CPF.

CPF is like a strict but caring parent.
They don’t give you everything.
They give you just enough so you don’t do anything stupid.

When the payout arrives, I feel rich for exactly eleven minutes.
Then I remember utilities exist.

3. I Become a Freelancer (Whether I Like It or Not)
Freelancing sounds glamorous.
“I’m independent.”
“I choose my projects.”
“I control my time.”
That’s the brochure.

Reality is refreshing your inbox like you’re waiting for a text from someone who said, “I’ll call you.”

You rewrite your LinkedIn profile three times.
Once confident.
Once humble.
Once desperate but pretending to be confident.

You learn new words like “gig,” “contract,” and “short-term opportunity,” which all mean the same thing: no CPF.

Still, freelancing teaches you something important.
You realise you are not your job title.
You are your ability to solve problems and invoice politely.

4. I Sell What I Have in the House
Your house becomes an asset portfolio.
Old books you swore you’d reread.
Camera equipment you bought during a “creative phase.”
A rice cooker with ten functions you only used one.

You list items online.
You negotiate with strangers who ask,
“Best price?”
I always want to reply,
“Best price was three years ago when I was still employed.”
But I don’t.

Because unemployment teaches patience.
And manners.

5. I Attend Job Fairs
Job fairs are fascinating.
Everyone wears hope and lanyards.
You collect brochures you will never read.
You smile at recruiters who say,
“We’ll keep your resume on file.”
That file must be very thick by now.

Still, you go.
Because staying home feels worse.
Sometimes you don’t find a job.
But you find something else.
You find out you’re not alone.

6. I Become More Spiritual
When money leaves, thoughts arrive.
You start asking bigger questions.
Not philosophical ones.
Practical ones.

“Do I really need this?”
“Who am I without my job?”
“Why does kopi taste better now?”

You walk more.
You sit more.
You notice things.
Unemployment removes noise.
And silence is uncomfortable until it isn’t.

7. I Learn to Delay Gratification Like a Professional
Everything becomes a “maybe later.”
New phone? Maybe later.
New shoes? Maybe next year.
Impulse purchases are replaced by impulse walks.

I now wait three days before buying anything.
Half the time, I forget I wanted it.
This is called maturity.
Or poverty.
Sometimes both.

8. I Get Very Good at Being Invisible
When you’re unemployed, you stop explaining.
You don’t volunteer details at gatherings.
You master vague answers.

“What are you doing now?”
“Exploring options.”
That sentence does a lot of heavy lifting.

9. I Redefine Success Quietly
Success used to mean promotions.
Now it means:
I paid my bills.
I ate well enough.
I didn’t panic today.
Small wins count when the ground is unstable.

And here’s the part nobody tells you.
Unemployment doesn’t just strip things away.
It reveals.

It shows you what you actually need.
Who actually stays.
And how little you can live on without falling apart.

I’m not saying unemployment is good.
I’m saying it teaches fast.
And one day, when I’m employed again,
I’ll still drink kopi.
Because five-dollar coffee never made me safer.
But knowing how to survive did.

PS
Credit where credit is due. This post was inspired by Sebastian Chen. I feel paiseh pretending this idea came out of my own head fully cooked. It didn’t. It came half-cooked, like economical rice at 3pm.

PPS: This is satire. It is not about me. My wife would like this clearly stated. It could be about anyone navigating a transitional phase in Singapore. Therefore, this post is purely fictional. Any resemblance to real people, living or unemployed, is purely coincidental.