9 hours ago
Life on the edge of grocery bill
LET us get one thing straight – being Malaysian these days feels like being stuck in a game of Survivor: Inflation Edition.
You wake up, stretch, brush your teeth, check your phone and bam! Another notification that something else is going to cost more.
First it was eggs. Then American goods. Now, insurance premiums are climbing too. What's next? Even this makcik is cringing in dread!
Ah, the humble egg. Or, as every Malaysian mother affectionately calls it, 'makanan penyelamat hujung bulan' – the ultimate last-ditch effort to keep starvation at bay when your wallet's drier than a kampung road in a heatwave.
This trusty little oval, once the undisputed champion of emergency meals, is now flirting with luxury status. At this rate, we'll need a bank statement just to crack one open – maybe even a credit check!
Whether it is the removal of subsidies, rising chicken feed prices or supply chain issues, some blame global warming or that one aunty who hoards 12 trays 'just in case.'
Regardless, Malaysians have always had a deep emotional relationship with eggs.
Half-boiled with toast in kopitiams. Masak lemak with petai in kampungs. Or wrapped in nasi lemak at your local roadside stall, only to discover that there is no egg inside, just sambal and heartbreak.
Now imagine the horror when egg prices go up. Makcik near the pasar said, 'Kalau macam ni, baik saya bela ayam kat rumah je!' (If this is the case, might as well I rear chicken at home). And we all laughed. Until we realised ... she wasn't joking.
Moving on to American goods. From overpriced jeans to iPhones and protein powders that promise Hulk-like biceps but deliver credit card trauma instead.
These days, looking at a US$ price tag is enough to make even the makcik with five condos and a personal driver go, 'Eh, mahal jugak ni' (Eh, this is quite pricey).
Want to buy a tub of peanut butter? That'll be RM35. Want imported cereal that tastes like cardboard and regret? RM45.
And let's not talk about gadgets. One fella tried to buy the latest iPhone but ended up applying for a personal loan, selling one kidney and pawning his childhood memories.
Of course, Malaysians are resilient. We're the same people who can make 47 TikToks complaining about prices, then still queue two hours at a US burger franchise opening because 'Wah, once in a lifetime!' Priorities, kan?
But wait, we haven't even reached the final boss yet: insurance premiums. Yes, the thing you grudgingly pay for and hope you never have to use. Well, congratulations! It's more expensive now.
Motor insurance? Up. Medical coverage? Up. Life insurance? Also up, although, ironically, your actual life expectancy might be going down due to all this stress.
Insurance agents everywhere are now rebranding themselves as financial therapists.
They don't just sell plans; they listen to your sob story, nod sympathetically and then explain why your monthly premium now costs more than your car instalment.
'Bang, kalau nak coverage lengkap, you kena tambah sikit je, RM400 extra per month,' they say with a straight face, while you mentally calculate how many Maggi packets you'll need to survive next month.
And it's not just the working crowd feeling the pinch. Retirees, yes, our beloved aunties and uncles, are also getting whacked.
Many of them, with no active income, now find themselves having to fork out more for the same health coverage.
For elderly Malaysians living on EPF crumbs or children's allowances, rising premiums are more than just annoying; they're terrifying. Some are being forced to reduce coverage or drop policies altogether.
So the next time you see an old uncle at the pharmacy measuring out his pills with a calculator, give him a nod. He's doing financial acrobatics we can't even comprehend.
And it's not just individuals. SMEs are also taking hits from every angle. Import costs? Up. Raw materials? Up. Office toilet paper? Don't even ask.
One HR executive joked that her company had to downgrade staff medical insurance from the 'gold plan' to some thing more like the 'recycled can plan.'
Another joked that if an employee fainted now, their SOP was to just fan them with a company memo and hope for the best.
The bigger picture here? This cocktail of rising costs is brewing a deeper worry: How long can the average Malaysian hold on before something snaps?
The cost of living has always been a slippery slope, but now it's become a full-on jungle obstacle course.
And we're not all trained like those ninja warriors from TV. Most of us just want to survive, afford some telur, maybe buy a proper toothpaste brand instead of generic toothpaste 'cap Gigi-Gigi Gembira', and have a little left over for an indulgence like Roti John with cheese.
Unless this is resolved, it's back to the grind – scrolling online platforms for the cheapest telur deal and skipping luxury baristas to buy kopi kampung.
Malaysians are nothing if not resourceful. We'll budget, bargain, barter, and bawl – but somehow, we'll still make it to payday with just enough left for teh o ais limau. Because we don't really have a choice.
And honestly, where else can you be broke and emotionally drained, yet still find the energy to go full keyboard warrior over the little things? Priorities, kan!
Azura Abas is the associate editor of theSun.
Comments: letters@
