Tuesday, August 9, 2016

No one told me!

Confessions of a squash court manager
episode 26
No one told me !

Oh fuck, I thought to myself, when I looked out into the carpark of the Corleone Squash Centre and saw who was headed my way. This guy has been an arsehole every time he's entered my squash centre, and I wasn't expecting anything different from him today.
Once an arsehole always an arsehole; Squashgodfathers creedo!
"I want a court for an hour," he says, no hows your life?, kiss my arse or anything, just give me a court..........
Yes he's still an areshole!
"No problem, twenty five dollars and she's all yours," I answered, trying to stay calm.
"No,no, no, I'm a member, so it's cheaper!" He said, this time yelling.
"You were a member but that expired 6 months ago, so today it's twenty five dollars." I said.
"No one told me it was only for 12 months, I thought it was a life membership." He spat.

This guys is one of those very rare creatures who really is as dumb as he looks.

"Your fucking joking, surely?" I said, hoping to see a sign of laughter in his eyes, there wasn't.
"Life membership for a hundred and fifty bucks, give me a break." I was trying not to laugh in his face as that would really piss him off.
'I'm not paying full price, I should have been told that it wasn't a life membership."

"Like it or lump it mate, those light ain't going on till you give me get twenty five dollars, and if you keep pissing me off they wont be going on at all."
"I will pay when I finish," he said heading off around to the courts.
"No way, no how. Money NOW or fuck off." He turns around and throws his credit card at me.
Kerching, another twenty five bucks into my rocket.

Another happy customer
Good squashing
Squash godfather

Thursday, May 12, 2016

where's the body

Confessions of a squash court manager
episode 25
where's the body

It had been a lovely day at the Corleone Squash Center, a nice flow of  non whinging customers happily throwing money at the squash godfather, in the name of good health. Life couldn't be better.
Anyway, a group of 3 middle aged guys walked in and asked about booking a court.
"No problem guys show me twenty five dollars and your in business." I said. They handed over the cash and trotted around to court 4. 
The place was fairly busy, people wandering into the dunny or around to the kitchen to pinch a free drink out of the tap rather than fork out a measly three dollars fifty for a bottle of water.

I came out of the back store room with an armful of drinks and headed over to top up the fridge.
I noticed one of the guys who had recently come in, a fat, bald, lardish type standing next to it with a strange sort of satisfied, peaceful look on his piggy face.
Turns out it was the look  of  pure satisfaction from a job well done, as the dirty prick had just dropped his guts...BIG TIME! Or it may have been the look of sheer relief, that he had not actually shat himself. Either way, I had walked straight into a massive invisible cloud of shit...FAARK.

The stench was so vile my legs almost buckled from under me, "what the fuck have you done here mate?"  I yelled, desperately trying not to inhale a mouth full of shit.

He took off without answering me around to his court, dragging the dead stinking carcass that was hanging out his ass with him. Filthy prick.

As luck would have it a couple of young birds walk in and I could tell by the look on their faces the shit cloud had hit them. Who am I kidding, Mat Damon could smell this fucking thing up there on mars!
If it had been a couple of blokes walking in I would have puffed out my chest out and proudly claimed it as my own. But my vanity kicked in, "sorry about the stink ladies, I think the fat, bald prick on court 3 is actually dead, or at least he's dead on the inside."

some more satisfied customers
good squashing 
squash godfather

Friday, April 8, 2016

That's a rip off

Confessions of a squash court manager
Episode 24
That's a rip off

Thursdays, my favorite day of the week. I finish early, head to the golf course and give my old my mate fossil a lesson in the finer arts of the game of golf, and it's also the start of my well deserved 3 day weekend....Oh I do love Thursdays. 
So it takes a lot to piss me off on a Thursday, but shit happens!

"Hi guys how are you going on this lovely Thursday?" I asked the two guys who had just entered the Corleone Squash Center.
"How much to hire a court?" asked,(lets call him number one), in a tone that said I'm an arsehole...stay calm squash godfather...it's Thursday remember.
"Twenty five dollars," I replied.
"Give us a court for an hour", number one said. No please or thanks, just a kiss my arse attitude.
He throws over the money, "cheers guys go down to court three." I said

They headed off  around to the courts, but were back at the counter a few minutes later, attitude written all over their dopey faces. Here we go I thought.
"Where's the gear?" asked, (lets call him number two) with the same lovely manners as his mate number one.
"What gear?" I asked, trying to pretend I didn't know the bloody obvious...just to piss them off.
"The fucking racquets and ball," he said, clearly agitated now.
"Oh that gear. Well if you haven't got your own you will have to hire it from me." I said, trying not to smile.
"How much will that cost?"  he asked.
"Twenty one dollars, and you get to keep the ball. What a bargain Hey?" I said.
"Bargain, that's a bloody rip off." They yelled in unison.
"Well tough titties. That,s the price, like it or fucking lump it." I said, bracing for a verbal onslaught.
But no, to my amazement number one threw the money at me, and said "Give us the bloody gear even though its a fucking rip off." I hand over two racquets and a ball and once again away they went.

Fuck me, what now, number two was back waving two bottles of water at me, "where can I put these to get them cold?" he asked.
"How's about the fridge in your kitchen at home?" I said.
"What about this one?" he said, pointing to my two door drinks fridge, standing there in all its chilly glory.
"Sorry mate, it cost money to keep that air cold. Why don't you take those drinks home and buy a couple of icy cold ones off me?" I said, with a content written all over my face.
"This place is a bloody rip off." he said again. Then once again stormed around to the courts..hopefully for the last time.

Two more happy customers..
Good squashing

Squash godfather

Thursday, February 4, 2016

thats outrageous

                                                    Confessions of a squash court manager
                                                                         Episode 23
That's outrageous

There I was having a lovely Tuesday morning, soaking up the sweat and stale beer smells wafting from the club room carpets at the Corleone Squash Centre.
My peace was interrupted when an old, not Fossil old, but mid sixties old, comes in brandishing a badminton racquet. I hate restringing these flimsy excuses for racquets, give me a tennis or squash racquet, they take some breaking.

"do you restring badminton racquets?"  The elderly fellow asked, pointing to an obviously broken string. 
Strange, I thought I'd taken my sunnies off, why else would he think that I was fucking blind!!

"yes I do" I answered, " But with two non negotiable conditions." One, due to the possibility of internal fractures, if the racquet breaks during restringing it's bad luck. Two, it must be paid for upfront, no refunds." Tough but fair is the squash godfathers motto.

"How much." He asked.
"Forty dollars." I said.
I could almost see the cogs ticking in the old guys head desperately trying to scramble a sentence together, old age isn't it fucking wonderful?
"That's outrageous!" He finally managed to spit out. " How can you possibly justify charging such an outrageous price?" He screamed. 
I feel an episode coming on for this old prick, I mean, two outrageousness in the one sentence.

Taken by surprise by his sudden change from elder statesman to angry old prick, I was almost lost for words......almost!
" How much do you usually pay." I asked, still in shock, but recovering fast.
"I've never had a restring before, this is the first." He said, in a much milder tone, probably noticing the steam coming from my ears.
" Well how the hell can you tell me my price is outrageous? Like it or fucking lump it granddad."
I said, trying desperately to maintain my cool calm demeanour.

"I'll think about it," he said walking backwards towards the door.

Another happy customer
Good squashing

Squash godfather