It was fierce busy yesterday; so busy, the pheromones of the customers were mixing together to cause a odd whiff to be left in the air. I was on the service desk when she approached me. I had no where to run. I had to do my job.
Me: “How are you?”
I scan through her items and tell her the total. She goes to hand me her card.
Me: “If you’d like to just place it in the machine there.”
Trudy: “I have to put it in myself?”
Me: “Oh, you do, yeah.”
Trudy: “Some service.”
Me: “Well, you wouldn’t ask a stranger to put your card into an ATM. Think of it like that.”
The transaction is completed and she wanders off, muttering to herself as she leaves.
Shortly after her, an old, happy chap of man hobbles up to me after coming out of the lift.
Happy Harry: “Oh, ha, heh! I’d hate to meet you in a dark ally with all those tattoos on you. Oh, ha, heh, heh!”
Me: “Ha! Yeah…”
Happy Harry: “Ha, heh, heh!”
He hobbles off down the shop.
Happy Harry seemed like a nice lump of an old man. Someone I could probably have a decent conversation with in-between all his laughter. As for Trudy? Well, she was a foul demon-women who was riddled with airs and graces. I didn’t like her. # BaldManProblems