I don’t know what got into me… really. It was like I was possessed by a mad woman – nope, just looked in the mirror – that mad woman is me.
“I need to buy a phone. Just a phone. Nothing else. Don’t need it to be able to make tea or walk the dog. Just a phone.”
He got it. But the look on his face showed that he was not happy. The ultimate crap customer, the ones that take all the fun out of his job. I saw him size me up and find me wanting.
But who was he to talk, I ask you. Get this picture:
Metrosexual male, complete with at least an hour of hair styling in the morning. Oddly complicated facial hair – seemingly shaved by Picasso. A large thumb ring, a brown three-piece suit with coordinating shirt. Flashing bright blue eyes. There was no doubting he thought himself a pretty hot bit of stuff.
When he realised I was never going to fall for his charms, he resentfully pulled out the cheap & nasty phone and requested my credentials.
“Oh, an Australian passport – I have never seen one of those before.” Sure… everybody says that. “How long have you been in Germany?
I mumble something along the lines of a year or so.
“But your German is so perfect!”
“Yeah, well it is an easy language, I picked it up on a weekend course.” He was too afraid to ask if I was kidding.
“I could have had an American passport..” he boasted.
Oh yeah.. like how? Was your father born in America?
“Well not exactly…” he is shuffling a bit, and I have the feeling I had just asked him if he had changed his underwear that day.
“He was born in a country at the same time America was retreating.” His exact words (translated of course)
Hmmm… let me think about that for a minute…where could your father have been born? Berlin perhaps?
I decided not to torture the poor guy any further… bid him a ‘good day’, snapped up my phone and left, mouth agape, dazed and confused.
No fancy blue passport for you my friend!
