Today began in a near empty Boots pharmacy which routinely deceived me in thinking my shop would be a simple in, out job. Nothing’s ever that straight forward in there and as I approached the counter, a suit from the city leaked in front of my prime position.
‘How can I help you?’ asked a cashier. I held high hopes that the businessman knew what he was after, that it’d be a quick ‘here you go’ and ‘thank you’ routine ahead of a two minute turnaround of my needs. Yeah, right.
The man proceeded to describe a ‘severe’ muscle pain on his shoulder and enquired as to what pain killers he’d need to get through the next couple of days. To be fair to her, the cashier, or was she a nurse – I can never differentiate nor trust, offered something pretty swiftly.
‘Right, and how strong are these? I need to be able to raise my arm this high for a few hours tomorrow.’
As if the nuclear orange tone of his fake tan that I couldn’t help but reposition myself to get a double take on wasn’t shocking enough, what came next was.
In the middle of the shop floor, to an audience now of four more ‘in, out’ optimists turned melt downs, the guy placed his briefcase down, took his jacket off, passed it to the nurse, or was she a cashier – I can never differentiate nor trust, and gave a five minute, repetitive demonstration of the actions that together, comprise a golf swing.
Quite surprised herself, which is saying something for someone that deals with a constant stream of skin troubles and gammy gums each day, the young lady handed back the man’s jacket and presented something from the array of pills behind her. ‘This should do the trick Sir.’
The man studied the tiny print of the small cardboard box for around two minutes, then looked up to the lady now even more eager to take the money and close the deal. He play acted out some pain in reaching into his inside pocket and pulled out a mobile phone come portable office tower.
‘One second. Let me just ring my Physio.’