A Spanish Afternoon
So today I had a very Spanish afternoon,
What’s that you ask? What made it Spanish? Sunshine? The beach? The bodega?
Well it was an afternoon that I wanted to do things, you know, in Spain.
Things that anyone might intend to do after having eaten lunch. Post-Lunch Ambitions.
Well anyway it turned out to be very Spanish.
You see, I have this camera, well, its broken and its not my fault.
I have a guarantee for 1 year, its European wide. So..
Oh and I also have this clarinet. Minor problem; a spring needs to be replaced.
Well, I’m not going to just sit here and ooze myself into a Siesta, am I?, No..
It needs to be dealt with now!
Heading towards the music shop, its 5 o’clock, everything is slowly reopening
Lots of grimaces on peoples faces. Cheer up people the sun is shining!
A beautiful October week in the high 20’s surely isn’t that unpleasant?
Now I’m arriving at destination number 1. The music shop. The moment of truth.
Can they fix it? Or better, Can they be bothered to fix it?
The man takes my clarinet, he sees many problems, I just want to fix the one problem.
He tells me to shut up and points at his certificate beautifully framed on the wall.
I want to tell him I don’t give a flying fuck about the size of how big he thinks his cock is.
My question however would be along the lines of..
Can you be bothered to get it up?
Too complicated, too much work involved! 20 euro minimum, 5 days. Business days.
Suddenly he’s impotent, and I don’t like being left waiting. Off to destination 2, El Corte Ingles..
Purchased this piece of shit in Portugal, year warranty card is in my hand.
To the counter, after numerous re-redirections by staff. Now in the queue. Mmm..
Spanish queues don’t resemble queues.
A whole family seems casually chatting to one clerk, the other pretends to look busy.
Jesus comes back to earth, the world ends, all the sinners are in hell now. Can I help you?
I step forward. I explain, this camera has a mechanical fault, the lens does not focus
Looking even more disinterested, she tells me there are signs of ware and tare.
I discover another mechanical fault: this woman also doesn’t focus.
She looks at the camera, as if she were the prospective buyer. I point at the warranty card.
Looking more confused, I show her the receipt, with the store name on it.
Maybe I should have shown her a dildo, that may have aroused at least a reaction.
Her colleague is politely useless. I apologise for having drained their brain cell capacity.
Shops are shutting early, I give up. Tapas, Beer or a Siesta anyone?