Garage Camaraderie.


I popped into my local garage yesterday to buy some essentials. All was well, until the time came to pay. The cashier, who had been in hysterics with the customer in front, only asked me if I wanted a receipt. It made me feel very inadequate.

Was it the way I look? Perhaps my face doesn't encourage banter. I always try to be friendly and upbeat when I'm in the midst of a transaction. Maybe that’s where I go wrong; what’s meant to create the impression of a pleasant, well-rounded individual probably makes me look like an axe-wielding maniac.

Maybe he disapproved of my shopping. I can’t see why. There’s nothing offensive about a bottle of orange juice and a smoothie, even if you mix them together.

He could have known the man in front, of course. Actually, that’s probably what it was. Either way, I think I’ll prepare a little slapstick routine for when I return. I won’t be happy until I’m known as BP’s funnest customer.

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