Last Monday was one of the more entertaining days I had in last three months. It started simply we went shopping, mainly to return an Amazon item I ordered by mistake but also to get me off the computer and writing because Mark claim I’m getting like a hobgoblin all crunched up and typing with fury.
Our first stop and the location events took place was a post office. The queue was enormous, but polite Brits were standing there like soldiers on the watch waiting for their turn. That’s where our anti-hero barged in.
Woman well in her fifties dressed in a very teenage looking frock (not that I’m any better running in my jeans and pony tail), but if you are old enough to remember the 80’s song “Barbie girl” than you have a gist. Our lady went straight to self check till, and that’s where the drama unfolded.
Mentioned till had no paper money option and only pay by card allowed due to malfunction. It was clearly written over the machine and even the paper money slot was taped shut. Seeing her struggling, the young intern came to help, they weighted and measured the package. Much to the woman’s displeasure, the diameters were for the package despite her claiming it was just a big letter.
She was already irritated and kept berating the poor clerk. When comes to the payment, the bomb blew up. The woman insisted she wanted to pay by paper money despite waving her card around. The clerk pointed other machine that would accept it but the barbie girl insisted she must pay in this one and that there is pay by money option on the screen. She just couldn’t accept the explanation that this function is broken in this till and started to rip the sealing tape of the paper money slot shouting she is going to fix it.
Three post clerks came out to rescue their youngest member, and remember we are standing in an enormous queue with no one serving the customer because everybody was dealing with pink lady’s tantrum.
It was clear she wanted to pick up the fight but, oh boy, the queue exploded. Safe to say the words that were flying around would fit a drunken sailor with sore tooth, and at the end, the tantrum lady was forced out of the building followed by the roar of laugher of all involved.
I’m one of this people that get embarrased when someone else is embarassed even if it is just a movie but at this point I was giggling my arse off. No matter who you are don’t mess with polite Brits as they can stand up to any bully.