Monday, March 9, 2009

Next Time Around…

I’m definitely going to be a Consultant.  I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to do it.

Went to see one today.  Took €200 from me without batting an eyelid. Well, that’s a lie, his secretary who was the one who insisted I pay, batted plenty.  And carried out all her business with each customer in a clear loud tone in a rather small room.  We all know exactly how much each person paid, and whether they had cash or visa.  I reckon that for the forty minutes I was in the room he pocketed at least €800.

The actual time with the great man was maybe 10 minutes.  He was a leg man and didn’t think much of mine.  Maybe if he’d been a boob man things might have been different.  Anyway he wasn’t impressed with my legs and said maybe he might treat them in a few months.  I got the distinct impression that he thought I’d be dead by then and wouldn’t have to bother.   Just as well, the treatment could have been very expensive and probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.

I had to pay another €4 to get the car out of the car park, and of course forgot to pay at the machine inside so had to make a second wobbly journey into the premises.  I told you I was losing my mind, forgetting everything.  (And thanks for the suggestion.  I did look behind the couch, no sign of it there either, but I did locate that missing gerbil).

1 comment:

  1. The premium paid was for the entertainment value of the receptionist. Love the line about "Maybe if he'd been a boob man"