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