The Unwanted Customer


For me, no morning would be complete without a visit to the world’s rudest newsagent.




I’ve been going there on and off since I was a student, but judging from the reception I receive you wouldn’t think that was the case. If anything, the atmosphere suggests I’d once willfully, maliciously, taken a dump on the floor – and then eyeballed the owner whilst stamping it into the carpet.

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. Perhaps I’ve misunderstood the concept of customer loyalty and regular patronage is actually the height of rudeness. Maybe it’s not a newsagent at all; whenever I’ve asked for a paper they’ve sold me their own copy out of ‘politeness’.

In this shop customers are an inconvenience; an unwelcome spoke in the wheel of an otherwise smooth-running business. I think I'd only ever be welcomed if I aged thirty years, took up pipe-smoking - and walked in asking for a lifetime subscription to the Daily Mail.
 
 This wasn’t always the case. When I was a student the shop had an additional staff member; a lovely, old man who would always strike up a conversation and made you feel pleased to be there. You’d still occasionally be served by the miserable staff contingent – but in those days it was at least a case of ‘good cop, bad cop’.

Sadly, Good Cop has long since retired. I see him occasionally around town and am often tempted to fall to my knees, begging him to come back.

At least then I didn’t feel like a newsreading Antichrist.

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