SINGAPORE, Sept 14 — How long would you like your working life to last? Even now, at the start of my career, I’d be lying if I wasn’t already thinking about retirement wistfully.

Given the pace and socially stimulating nature of my job, retirement — as far-off as it may be — looks alluringly quiet, spent with a handful of loved ones, and cosied up to crafts and books.

Meeting strangers every day well past the age of 70? Being on my feet as early as 6am for a day of tending to queues of folks waiting for me to prepare hot beverages?

Not quite the soothing lifestyle that I hope awaits me at the end of my career.

But this is the daily routine enthusiastically embraced by Paulin Khoo, a grandmother of five, who has started working from home at age 73.

She has set up Kopikhoo, a coffee kiosk carved out of an exterior wall of the kitchen of her Joo Chiat terrace home.

Her exit from retirement into a now seven-week-old lively food-and-beverage (F&B) home-based business is surprising on many fronts. For one thing, Khoo has long avoided coffee due to gastric issues.

A tea drinker myself, I found myself tempted to cross the beverage divide and try her artisanal coffee after coming across the Peranakan-style window of the kiosk that peers into an alley at Tembeling Road on social media.

My initial idle notion of sampling a novel concept set among Joo Chiat’s hipster cafes soon grew into a desire to know the woman behind this venture.

And so last Tuesday (September 10), I found myself welcomed by Khoo into her home and being taught by her how to pull a shot of espresso.

More than my newfound coffee-making skills, spending a day with the grandmother-turned-barista provided a fresh perspective on finding joy at work and making the most of one’s silver years.

Back to work

Though starting a new career at her stage of life is unexpected, Khoo, said one is "never too old” as long as one is open to opportunities to learn.

A former kindergarten teacher who retired to take care of her first grandchild in 2005, she lives with a family of 13, including her husband, her son and his wife, their five children and his wife’s wider family.

"Never have I ever thought that at my age, I sell coffee. I was enjoying my life, going to church every day, and then meeting my friends, having breakfast. Suddenly this (lifestyle) stopped like that,” said Khoo, who is a devout Catholic.

I joined Khoo for her 6.30am daily mass.

On the 10-minute walk to her home, I am still shaking off sleep while Khoo is raring to set up shop, even greeting passersby with a chirpy "good morning” in the drizzle.

Though her son, 48-year-old Nicholas Khoo, works in marketing, he taught his mother how to make coffee with a machine, a skill he gained during the Covid-19 pandemic.

With his five children all being older, Nicholas came up with the idea for his mother to run Kopikhoo and took inspiration from cafes in the areas and other home-based F&B businesses.

Then began a process of hacking a literal hole-in-the wall coffee spot, racking up an estimated S$8,000 (RM26,505) to S$9,000 in overall costs, which included renovating the kitchen and the cost of the coffee-making machine.

The business is yet to turn a profit, as breaking even for material costs and a "limited salary” for his mother would need the kiosk to sell around 100 cups a day, Nicholas added.

Still, the family remains upbeat about the response so far, and Khoo has mastered the precise measurements of the recipes.

With a soft opening on June 29, Khoo plans for Kopikhoo’s official launch to be on Sept 25, which is also her birthday.

While she spent the past decades taking care of her son’s children, aged five to 19, they now help out with their grandmother’s business on the weekends.

She runs the stand alone on weekdays, and has thus altered her schedule accordingly, getting bites of lunch in between orders from the afternoon crowd.

What do her friends think about the way she has swapped her retiree life for that of a bustling barista?

In response, she mimicked their hearty objections, and said, "Aiyoh, why do you want to work so hard?”

And hard work it is. Though the kiosk runs from the comfort of her home kitchen and officially opens at 8am, Khoo is soon on her feet to greet the first customer of the day who comes up to the window at 7.30am.

Khoo interrupts preparing me her personal recommendation of an iced caramel latte to tend to her customer. She meticulously takes down his name, order, mode of payment and the cost of his drink in a notebook hung by the window.

Barista for a day

I soon feel as if I am back home with my own grandmother, as Khoo insists on fixing me toast for breakfast, but it is also clear that she is nothing short of a professional.

My mind swims in the maths and coffee-making details she guides me through, such as the specific weight of milk needed or how to level the coffee grinds just right.

Despite the ease she exhibits now, Khoo was "very scared” when her son first showed her the unfamiliar, complex coffee machine, to the point of her heart pounding and hand shaking.

There have been other challenges too with her new role, such as tweaking the recipe to different tastes and learning about customer service.

"When you’re old, your listening (skill) is not very strong. So when there’s too many people talking to you and there’s a big crowd, I panic,” she said.

However, customers have been patient if she ever makes a "genuine mistake” with the order, and she will fix them another cup to make it right.

While the Tuesday morning I visited constitutes a "slow day”, weekends are hectic, with the record so far being 188 cups sold on a Saturday.

It is also clear that serving coffee, for Khoo, is more than just a matter of racking up sales, as she asks after the regulars she knows and easily strikes up conversations with first-time customers.

"You meet people that are nice, you are uplifted. You meet people who are upset, but if you can bring joy to them, you lift them up. Just (giving) your smile is so nice,” she said.

A few of the more than 40 customers who visited while I was there told me they were so entertained by their chats that they had forgotten to pay for the drinks. Khoo was so swept up herself, she also sometimes forgets.

All these customers returned upon realising their oversight.

Twice a day, primary school children walk past her window on the way to the nearby Haig Girls' School, many of whom Khoo greets by name.

Many customers are neighbours and nearby business owners, though people have flocked from as far afield as Woodlands and the occasional tourist has stopped by.

More than the nuances of coffee-making, I learn the meticulous details of service, such as providing a water cup for customers with dogs and not putting in the ice "too soon” for cold drinks so it does not dilute the drink.

When the shop closes at 4pm, Khoo walks me out after we complete the hour-long clean up and I find myself still perked up despite the labour of an eight-hour shift.

This was no doubt due to the caffeinated drink she had made me, but more so by the company of Khoo herself.

"You are a journalist, do you love it? You enjoy meeting people right? It’s just like I sell coffee, I get to meet lots of nice people,” said Khoo on the joys of her unexpected return to work.

Thinking of the smiles Khoo has brought to the neighbourhood and me, I have to agree on all counts.

Maybe retirement isn't quite so alluring after all. — TODAY