This bloke stumbled his way in the other day, angry with a few happy meals stuffed in his belly. His wallet was just as fat as his bleedin' stomach. He was ready to shove his foot in my mouth, thinking that just because he has a stash in his pocket and runs his own business he can order me around like a child. I run a business too, and while I would rather have dangled his money purse down the street for those that could use it, I held my tongue. For a
while. Reputation proceeds me, and like any new customer I'll throw him a chance before passing my judgment. It didn't stop me from calling him a wanker before he headed out the door. He comes back with a fresh attitude next time maybe I won't overcharge him for my services. That cash could come into good when he's not spending it on fancy cars and enough food to feed the whole neighborhood.
For the record today was rubbish, and I spent half the morning with the phone off the hook to keep the complaints to a minimum. Wealthy bankers like to jabber with the snobbish insults and heavy threats. It's always the same jobby. The place is doing well even if dirty blokes like to rub my name through the mud, it's not like I don't outshine them in the end, and they have to put their foot in their mouth.