Auditions for the new Batman film weren’t up to much
I’m a pacifist. I never lose my temper with people or raise my voice to them. I raise my voice and lose my temper with inanimate objects, but that’s another story. Even on Saturday, I maintained a wholly cool demeanour of which Jack Reacher himself would be proud. Scenario, thus:
Post Office, Saturday morning. Yes, there were a few old people in attendance, but that’s by the by for such an establishment. Otherwise, there was quite a reasonably skewed demographic of Lancashire folk filed up to the entrance all going about their business. There was a curious incident concerning the lady in front of me. If it wasn’t for her odd omission, I could have been served one person quicker. We queued for around five to ten minutes, and when she approached the counter, she asked for a passport photo. The thing was, she’d walked passed the passport photo booth that was right next to the entrance. As she walked in. Signposted – PASSPORT PHOTOS.
After she embarked on a short walk of shame, it was my turn to party, conversation thus:
Me: “Hello, I’d like another twelve months on my tax disc, please.”
*Assistant thoughtfully rifles through my documents*
Assistant: “Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t use this insurance certificate as it runs out before the tax disc starts.”
Me *Grinding my teeth*: “Ah, right, I see. I’ll have to get my new certificate then. Thanks, goodbye.”
That is what actually happened, although at the time, my barely contained frustration in the knowledge I’d have to return and queue up all over again made me yearn for this alternate scenario to play out:
Of course, I wouldn’t actually ram through the front of the building with a (fully insured) vehicle.
Not being one to quit easily, I returned home and printed out my latest certificate of insurance. Then returned. Then queued up. Again.
When I approached the counter, it was the same lady that had served me on the previous attempt.
“Back again,” I smiled. She replied with a polite smile, one that implied, “I’ve no idea who you are, I don’t recognise you, but I’m just going to smile and deal with another human.”
I experienced a feeling of dread as she, again, thoughtfully sifted through my documents. But everything went fine. As she proceeded with my disc, the gentleman adjacent was called into some curtained booth in front of the counter to the far left. There was a space-age scanner of sorts with some buttons dotted here and there. I’m still clueless as to its purpose. Maybe it’s a recharge station for pensioners’ hearing aids. Or Terminators.
I may never know.
Until then…
I’ll be back…
dantandy 