December 03, 2011

Beyond The Call of Duty

At work today an oversized Double Bay matron had me scampering like a Regency butler to every corner of the store fetching numerous obscure titles off the shelves, even those whose very existence would have been a Christmas miracle.(“Can you check again? I know Charles Dickens has a new thriller out this year!”)















While shuttling back and forth I noticed that her chubby hands were in a constant upright position, every finger splayed wide as if someone had just thrown her a surprise party.
It was only when I finished scanning her purchases that I realised she’d just had her nails done and was unable to do anything useful with them at all, including reaching for her credit card which was wedged deep in the front pocket of her ‘skinny’ jeans.
“Would you be so kind?” she asked with a grim smile.
And there I stood with a wintry, snow-bound expression on my face wishing that somehow Oliver Twist and his nimble-fingered pickpocket gang would sneak up from the Classics section and save me the trouble.

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