SINGAPORE: What time is it? For generations of Singaporeans, the answer is almost instinctive: It’s Tiger time.
For Thomas Heng, however, the answer is more personal. The 64-year-old senior technical officer from Johor Bahru has spent over four decades inside the brewery that turned those three words into one of Singapore’s most enduring marketing catchphrases.
By the time he retires in 2027, he would have spent 42 years making Tiger Beer, longer than many in the country have been old enough to drink it.
The Malaysian also happens to be one of 130 production workers whose jobs will progressively disappear as Tiger Beer prepares to cease brewing operations in Singapore by end-2027, relocating production to Malaysia and Vietnam. About 50 of the affected workers are, like him, foreigners too.
Asia Pacific Breweries Singapore (APBS) – which also brews Heineken beer for Singapore consumption – employs a total of 530 workers before the restructuring, with some remaining staff expected to take on redesigned roles.
The decision was driven by ageing brewing and packaging equipment at the Tuas facility, where replacing the machinery would cost about as much as building a new brewery in Singapore.
The move, announced in March, sparked expected debate over whether Singapore’s most famous beer would lose its identity if it is no longer brewed here. After all, the brand has, since its debut in 1932, grown alongside the nation to become one of its most recognisable exports.
Yet, both industry experts and employees believe that its essence remains secure.
On its own, the news might have been a blip amid increasingly common layoffs across various sectors. Yet, at an establishment like Tiger Beer where professional identity seems inextricably linked to national pride, the implications run deeper.
And as Singapore’s birthday approaches, workers such as Heng are reflecting not just on the end of their careers, but also what it means to leave behind a brand that has shaped both their working lives and sense of identity.
Heng’s journey began on a Friday in 1984, when a listing in his brother-in-law’s copy of The Straits Times caught his eye: Tank cleaner.
The full-time role at Malayan Breweries Limited, home to Tiger Beer since 1932, involved scaling the massive brewery tanks to clean them.
Then a 22-year-old bachelor, he felt he had nothing to lose. With just a primary school certificate, he had spent years hopping from one contract job to the next. So he applied, unaware it would become a 42-year career, and a second home.
As the company was renamed APBS in 1990, and then acquired from Fraser & Neave by Heineken in 2012, he progressed alongside it, moving from the brewhouse and filtration units to operator and technical roles.
In 1993, he joined a small crew in Ho Chi Minh City to launch Tiger Beer’s first Vietnam brew. Then in 2016, he was entrusted with propagating yeast for the brand’s expansion into Taiwan, opportunities that he says he still cannot believe he was given “because of my lack of education”.
As the years passed, his knowledge of beers grew. Some involve longer brewing and more complex processes than others. “It is both a science and an art,” he says.
When ST meets the long-term brewery employee after the announcement, Heng is stoic and soft-spoken. He breaks into a wistful smile when he realises he is speaking with the publication whose classifieds gave him a life-changing career and enabled him to raise a family.
“To me, it’s fine,” he says of his impending departure. “I’m already 64 years old and I was going to retire. I feel thankful to APBS for giving me so many chances to have this life.”
Still, it is bittersweet. Leaving with him is packaging efficiency specialist Sathiswaran Kumarasamy, who is not only his colleague but also the son of his best friend from Johor Bahru.
Now 34, Sathiswaran says: “My father’s best friend is Mr Thomas (Heng). I met him when I was a kid.”
He started working for Tiger Beer a decade ago. “Because some of my colleagues were my father’s friends, I addressed them as ‘uncle’ when I joined the company. It was awkward for others.”
The brewery runs deep in his family. His father, a senior utilities technician, had spent over two decades tending to the brewery’s boilers until his retirement in 2015. Listening to his father’s daily anecdotes on the rhythmic huffs and “poof” of escaping steam steered Sathiswaran towards a degree in engineering.
Meanwhile, his elder brother spent 13 years in the packaging department too, serving as both his colleague and mentor before moving on.
Though they have left the company, Sathiswaran says the trio continue to bond over talking about the work and their colleagues-turned-friends. He hopes to recreate the same workplace culture wherever he is headed, as “this is what I will miss most”.
Even employees whose roles are unaffected say the upcoming shift will mean more than operational change. It marks the loss of a workplace community and a culture of looking out for one another.
Yu Seow Chui’s voice quavers as she ponders the end of an era with her teammates. The 46-year-old supply planner has spent 21 years at the brewery, having started in customer service for Tiger Beer’s export markets, and says it has long become more than just a workplace.
At the Tiger Tavern, the brewery’s own retro-style pub, she describes how colleagues bonded over cold pints after work, settling disagreements and leaving the day’s stresses behind.
Like any workplace, there were conflicts. But she says they were outweighed by a shared sense of pride in the brand and responsibility for one another.
It is the same pride she still feels whenever she sees someone ordering a Tiger Beer, and one which she believes will help her team through the transition.
Her team is now working out which products will stop being brewed here, when production will shift overseas and which beers they will start importing instead. But she is confident that the taste of Tiger Beer will be the same, regardless of where it is brewed.
Few are better placed to make that assurance than customer service manager Lim Yee Fong. The 43-year-old joined the company as a brewing technologist in 2011.
“When I first saw the position advertised, it felt challenging,” recalls the food science and nutrition graduate.
“Yeast is a living entity. Whenever the result deviates, you need to inspect and adjust. There is a very high sense of satisfaction when we launch a new beer,” says Lim, who worked on the launch of brands such as Strongbow cider, Heineken 0.0, Heineken Silver, Tiger Radler and Tiger Crystal.
To maintain consistent quality, prospective sensory panellists undergo a six- to nine-month rigorous global assessment.
The process begins by identifying a beer’s presence in water samples. Those unable to detect subtle flavours and notes are eliminated, says Lim.
Naturally, working closely with colleagues who take pride in delivering high-quality products has shaped her idea of work. Her team will shift from local supply chain support to become the central command point for Asia-Pacific exports.
“This wasn’t just a workplace to me,” she says. “I could bring my parents to visit, and in recent years, my son too.”
Beyond just a beverage, Tiger Beer has spent decades positioning itself as a “symbol of origin and identity”, says Samer Elhajjar, a senior marketing lecturer at the National University of Singapore.
By consistently emphasising heritage, authenticity and regional pride, it has – unlike many global beer brands that rely on lifestyle branding or taste to distinguish themselves – achieved a distinctive “emotional resonance”, particularly in Singapore and South-east Asia.
He adds that when a brand commands such loyalty and meaning, restructuring can force employees to confront the loss not just of a job, but also of identity, belonging and purpose.
For many employees, Tiger Beer is intertwined with the story of a home-grown brand that became internationally famous, says Nina Sirola, an assistant professor of organisational behaviour and human resources at Singapore Management University. They may see themselves as “custodians of a Singaporean institution”.
As a result, those affected may feel three losses at once: a job, a close-knit workplace community and connection to a brand woven into the Singapore story.
“Good culture sometimes deepens (the grief) because there is more to miss. But it can reduce bitterness, preserve dignity and help people leave with a more coherent and positive account of their years there,” Sirola says.
It probably explains why employees say the news had been met with quiet resignation rather than anger. While sad, they say the two-year notice period gives them time to process their loss. They add that APBS’ history of innovation also makes the news easier to understand.
In the meantime, the company has introduced dedicated communication channels, mental health support, skills training, and regular dialogues and manager check-ins to help employees through the transition.
Those leaving say they will do their best to help their colleagues with a smooth handover. This is what family does, they say matter-of-factly: They have one another’s backs.
For Sathiswaran, the brewery’s closure will mean saying goodbye to more than a workplace.
When he was stuck in Singapore during the Covid-19 pandemic, for example, his friends asked how he was coping. “I told them I wasn’t sad. I was with my family here too,” he says.
By the end of 2027, the brewery will fall silent. But for those who spent decades inside it, that sense of family is what they will remember long after the last batch of Tiger Beer leaves Singapore.- ST/ANN
