clockI went to the dry cleaners this morning to pick up some small arms for an assault on Lloyds TSB that my family and I are planning (just a jacket…actually). The dry cleaners opens at 9.00am and I arrived, after dropping DD off at nursery, at around 8.55am. The employee of the dry cleaners was sitting at the desk, reading a newspaper.

MrShev: [I mouthed]: are you open?

Dry Cleaner: [She pointed to a big clock on the wall and mouthed]: 9 and she shrugged a half smile.

FFS. So I stood outside in the freezing cold and she sat at her desk looking at the clock and when the clock’s hand’s finally, inexorably swung round to 9.00am she walked around the desk and unlocked the door.

MrShev: It’s cold out, isn’t it.

Dry Cleaner: Yes, there’s a cold snap forecast.

MrShev: Couldn’t you have opened five minutes earlier?

Dry Cleaner: I start at nine.

MrShev: I could have waited inside.

Dry Cleaner: Our opening hours are nine until five.

MrShev: But what difference would it have made for me to stand inside a warm, cosy dry cleaners than stand in the freezing cold watching some link to our ape-like past try to make sense of the mystic symbols on the printed parchment? You do realise that you don’t get paid any more or any less to open the shop five minutes earlier you anally retentive hanger-fiddler?

I obviously said none of the above, but you know: FFS.



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