We hear him before we see him: Lucky Plaza’s rudest nasi ayam goreng seller, hollering from his open kitchen. Diners lower their heads, eating silently. Clad in a smart black uniform, with ramrod straight posture and a booming voice that could make your encik cry, Shafiie is a force of nature at Fiie’s Cafe, a popular makan haunt on the sixth floor.

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This eatery is well-known for its excellent fried chicken rice — which attracts long queues at lunchtime — and its tempestuous second-gen owner. The cafe recently had a name change after Shafiie took over last year.

Previously it was known as As-Shifaa Cafe, named after Shafiie’s sister who requested for the change. “My mother opened this place over 20 years ago, and I have been helping her since I was 17,” Shafiie tells 8days.sg.

Now in his mid-30s, he and his younger brother are running the cafe full-time so that their 70-something mother, who started her stall at the old Ordnance Engineering Training Institute (OETI) at Ayer Rajah Camp, could retire.

“If they want service, go to Jollibee”

It is a curious coincidence that Fiie’s Cafe is located right next to another Lucky Plaza fried chicken purveyor: Jollibee. “I tell [customers] that if they want service, go to Jollibee. And some of them really walked out. But sometimes even the Jollibee staff don’t smile at you,” Shafiie shares. 

If you are lucky, his brother Rasheed, soft-spoken with a shy smile, will take your order. We drop by as an anonymous first-time customer, and order a Combo ($9).

Nasi Ayam Goreng Combo, $9

The set meal comes with nasi ayam goreng, the thin, shatteringly crispy skin coated in a lip-smacking turmeric batter. We choose breast meat, which is drier than the thigh option, but still delicious with rice (a lighter, less oily version of rich Hainanese-style chicken rice that goes well with the heavily-spiced fried chook and accompanying shiok sweet sambal).

Upon order, Rasheed grabs a gloved fistful of tasty fried batter bits from the ayam goreng tray and scatters it over our rice for extra crunch.

Mr Grumpy Fried Chicken

For the combo, we also get to pick two sides like fried bergedil, tender chicken liver, gizzards and sedap sambal quail eggs. A bowl of complimentary mee soto-style chicken broth and a canned drink round off the meal. The chicken rice costs $6 a la carte, which the brothers are not raising despite their cafe’s rent going up.

Shafiie gives us a cursory glare as he concentrates on frying chicken. We quickly make our e-payment using the PayLah app, a service he recently implemented to modernise his mother’s old-school business. Astonishingly, the payee’s name was set as ‘Mr Grumpy Fried Chicken’.

"I look so fierce!” exclaimed Shafiie when we showed him this photo we snuck of him at work. He declined to be formally photographed for this story.

So you are self-aware, we later comment to Shafiie. He shrugs. “People already say I’m grumpy, might as well make it a thing,” he says. It is also why the mild-mannered Rasheed is customer-facing while Shafiie cooks.

When we approach Shafiie after our anonymous meal for this story, he declines to be formally interviewed or photographed. But he obliges to chat, as it is nearing the end of his work day. “You can write whatever you want, because you chose to come here yourself. I don’t want people to say I asked [for the media] to write about me,” he asserts.

One-star reviews

But plenty of people have already written about him. TikTokers deliberately provoke him, hoping to unleash tirades that would make for a viral video. His cafe is notorious on Google for having dozens of indignant one-star reviews, complaining about his "aggressive evil eyes” and the 1,001 ways you can get on his bad side. And you don’t want to be on his bad side.

As Google reviewer MrPullinggravity puts it: “If you subconsciously follow the customer in front and accidentally cross a line on the floor in front of the cashier which no one will notice, you'll get scolded. If you say your order before he's ready, you'll get scolded. If you didn't say fast enough, also get scolded. If you place multiple orders with slightly complicated requests, be prepared to get challenged to a fight.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Shafiie gets challenged to fights too. Some customers were so offended by his curtness, they hurled vulgarities at him and invoked the classic Singaporean conflict resolution of ‘settling outside’. “Some of them wanted to fight me. I said come lah, I end work at 5pm. But they never showed up,” Shafiie recounts.

It doesn’t help that he is intimidatingly tall and ripped, with a naturally surly face and chiselled cheekbones that could slice a young punk into sashimi. It all comes together to create a first impression that might make one feel, to put it in Ah Beng terminology, not shiok.

As we eat our chicken rice, he walks past and scowls at us. His piercing eyes are alert and constantly scanning around his shop, a habit he picked up from being a bouncer at clubs around Clarke Quay for eight years while helping his mother on the side.

“With my kind of face, I can only work as a bouncer. Some people said I can be a police inspector or RSM too,” he deadpans. He also bears a strong resemblance to a celebrity — Malaysian actor Adi Putra, which earned him the nickname of ‘Adi’.

Back then as a bouncer, Shafiie was a gym-goer who weighed 95kg, though he has since shed 25kg slogging at his cafe.

Shafiie's brother Rasheed is usually the one who takes customers' orders.

The brothers start work at 6am

It is tough work preparing nasi ayam goreng. The brothers are at their shop by 6am or 7am, where they spend their day serving customers and frying fresh batches of fried chicken whenever they run out. When we drop by at 3.20pm on a weekday, there is only chicken liver, a hardboiled egg and some sambal quail eggs left to go with the chicken rice.

A printed piece of paper on the stall informs customers “We Have Laksa Today”, which Shafiie later tears up with the kind of impatient energy usually reserved for taking on Karens.

But he can also be very friendly, when he's not swamped with orders. We observe him joking and laughing with his regulars, a relaxed smile on his face.

He politely thanks a young guy who came by the cafe to remove a bulky beverage dispenser. “We used to sell tea but it’s just me and my brother here now, so we don’t have time to make drinks,” Shafiie explains. “But some elderly people prefer a hot drink, so I told them they can go and buy one from [other cafes] and bring it here. I don’t mind.”

The first rule of Fiie Club

As it turns out, understanding the rules of Fiie Club is the key to enjoying your meal there. “If you talk to me during off-peak hours, I’m okay. But don’t come and talk to me during lunchtime when I’m so busy,” he says. Different people have different ways of coping with work stress, and Shafiie doesn’t bother to hide his deep exasperation.

While most F&B owners plaster a smile on their faces to wrangle difficult customers, he goes full club bouncer. “To be honest, it’s because some people are idiots. There are some very entitled customers out there. If you visit someone’s house you abide by their rules, right? It’s the same for my shop,” he says.

Order first, then sit down

He is particularly rankled by folks who insist on chope-ing a seat first before ordering. “To be fair to everyone, I told them to queue and order first before getting a seat. First come first served. But some of them weren’t happy about it,” he says. 

This ‘rule’ came about after Shafiie had diners fighting over tables in his cramped 24-seat cafe. He recalls: “They threw plates at each other. If they have a problem, take it up with me. Not with each other.”

The seat system

But you don't have to worry about finding a seat even during lunch hour. Shafiie manages the crowd — in his own uniquely principled, no-nonsense way — and ensures that all his customers get a table in an orderly manner. What you have to do is wait calmly outside the cafe until you can enter to order.

This is also why Shafiie’s pet peeve is seat-hoggers who linger after they have finished their meal, as well as those who hold up his business by not complying with Covid-19 regulations during the pandemic.

“My food is only $6. Some of them want me to serve them their food and hand them their change with a smile when we are so packed at lunchtime. There’s just the two of us, and it’s so hard to find manpower,” he reveals.

He also insists that he doesn’t shout at people. “I’m just loud. I have to be loud so everyone outside can hear me from the back of the kitchen,” he says. “If I really shout, you can hear it from the first floor okay.”

“You can’t please everyone” 

Through the years at Lucky Plaza, Shafiie has garnered his own pool of loyal customers. “My regulars are okay with me. They know me,” he shares. “And I realised something. Some people react [aggressively towards me] because they are paiseh about the way they are behaving. So they get defensive.”

It may have cost him a few disgruntled diners, but Shafiie is ballsy enough to prioritise efficiency over diplomacy. He opines, “If you can’t deal with two out of 10 customers complaining about you, you might as well close shop. You can’t please everyone.”

But what seems to ruffle him is when netizens refer to him as an “uncle”. Somewhat bemused, he remarks to us: “I’m not even old. Why they call me an uncle?”

Fiie’s Cafe is at #06-52 Lucky Plaza, 304 Orchard Rd, S238863. Tel: 9323-5305. Open daily except Sun, 11am-5pm. GrabFood and Foodpanda delivery available. Facebook, Instagram

Photos: Yip Jieying

No part of this story or photos can be reproduced without permission from 8days.sg.