I’m one of those people who always arrive early everywhere I go – allowing plenty of contingency on top of my already over-estimated travel time.
Thus it was that I found myself in a well-known burger chain the other morning, the first customer of the day a few moments after they’d opened. I’d allowed two hours for a 55 minute trip. Quite reasonably, I thought. So I had a fair amount of time to kill – and a breakfast muffin just had to be done.
The supervisor was lovely, friendly – and totally disorganised. She closed the till without giving me change; gave me the wrong change; poured me the wrong type of coffee; forgot that I’d ordered the *double* bacon. And all of this was done with a giggle and the biggest of smiles.
It was when she wandered outside while I was eating and lit up a cigarette that kinky thoughts came to mind. For how was she to know that the smart gentleman in the corner wasn’t a typical customer, but was here from Head Office to assess their standards following recent complaints?
I’d introduce myself when she came back in; ask her to accompany me to the manager’s office; list the shortcomings I’d notice, and put her over my knee.
McDisciplinarian? Yep, sounds like my kinda job.
You ate in THAT well known burger chain? Abel, really, do you have no standards?
I mean, it’s a nice fantasy, but coulnd’t you have changed the location to protect the delicate sensibilities of your readers?
What you mean pretend he’d had a breakfast muffin at Chez Gerrard or something?!
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