Half-price Sale Musings
19th June 2008

“Excuse me. Is everything half price?”

What is it about this question that makes rage course its way through my veins and that pre-battle siren from Kill Bill play on a loop in my head?

My epitaph! I found it!

Quick back story: I work in a (supposed) health food shop. You may or may not be familiar with the kinds of things these places sell, so for quick reference let’s just say that if it’s not nuts, or something coated in chocolate, or some form of boiled confectionery from an era long forgotten then chances are you may be in the wrong shop. Suffice it to say my job entails me serving cretinous pensioners while they tell me about how good prunes are for your bowel movements.

Lovely.

Anyway, I have given up trying to fathom how many times I have been subjected to the aforementioned question. Largely because the human brain lacks the capacity to acknowledge a number that high.

Maybe it’s not the customers fault. Maybe the meaning of “everything” changed at some point and people are still getting used to the new concept. Like when Opal Fruits changed to Starburst (and then back again). Perhaps the copious neon pink signs around the shop that say “EVERYTHING HALF PRICE” in big fuck-off letters are not quite clear enough. I’m sorry, would you prefer it to be spelled out in cascading fireworks out in the streets? Or maybe you would get the idea if I had the letters embossed backwards on a pair of knuckle dusters and I punched myself with incredible force. That way you could see the phrase “EVERYTHING HALF PRICE” wiggle on my forehead as I laugh at your stupidity.

“So…everything then?”

Yes!

“Even this?”

Actually no. We had a meeting back at head office and decided that you were too much of a crusty orifice for us to be able to justify selling you those Brazil nuts that you seem to be clutching dearly to your chest for the half price we are currently advertising for it. In fact, we think it’s best if you pay full price for being a twatting-spooge. Actually, you should pay double the price. And then lick my ball sac. Because we hate you so much.

And look, now I’m angry. And the worst part is I have two more full days of this to come. Don’t be surprised if you see an artist’s impression of me wearing an old woman’s scalp as a Davy Crockett hat on Crimewatch UK.