Near the university I attend there is an elderly Indian man who owns a paper shop. He is a miserable bastard. He snatches the money from your hands, yet looks like he is about to have a heart attack when he is giving you back your change. He doesn't say how much things cost either. He just thrusts out his hand in front of you to receive money. I enjoy patiently waiting while his hand hovers in front of me, until he tells me how much it all costs. If you don't ask he could just make up a price. Though I think that’s how his pricing scheme works anyway.
Normally I’d boycott such a place, but it’s all about location. He doesn’t have to be friendly to customers as there is a constant stream of new students every year that don’t know him, so he can easily get away with it.
So I really can’t wait until the competition moves in next door. Perhaps a chain store like W.H. Smith that will put him out of business.
I'm also going to take the time to mention that I hate corner shop where they continue to chat to their extended family while serving you, or even chatting on their mobile phone. It makes sense of why the small newsagents are dying out. The image of a friendly man named Oscar, remembering who you are; who has been running the paper shop for 20 years is a long dead fantasy. Instead it’s been replaced by a load of foreigners who use the shop as a means of getting a passport / Visa. That’s probably a lie, but it helps me focus my hate.
Soon all the Tesco and Sainsbury locals will replace the need for them, and I shall laugh, and they shall cry, and I shall dance and they shall fall, and I shall sing and they will murmur, then I shall... I'll stop now.
Save the local papershop? Balls to them.
Also, even through it’s unrelated, but I watched “An Audience with Coronation Street” all the way through. Maybe I was waiting to see Tina O’Brian dance in next to nothing, maybe I was too lazy to change the channel, but I feel dirty and sick and dirty. After which I went for a 2 hour rape shower. Still not clean...
Iron Fist
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