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- @"TEN PERCENT DISCOUNT"
-
- # The resulting fantasy of a bad day at work, by Andrew Campbell
- # 1994. If you work in retail, you'll understand it.
-
-
-
- "I've got a discount card young fella, just hang on...." babbled the
- old man, not at all bothered about the ever-growing queue snaking out
- behind him.
- Peter, the Checkout Operator, produced the biggest false-smile he'd
- ever managed in his life and ran his eyes slowly across the AMOUNT DUE
- figure.
- # £0.29p.
- No hundreds, no tens, no pounds, just twenty nine measly pence. The
- patheticness of the situation hit him immediately: this wrinkled old
- cocksucker wanted ten percent off a packet of half-inch woodscrews.
- A ten percent reduction from twenty nine hamster-shagging pence.
- # Was this fuckwit for real or what?
- "It's in my pocket somewhere..." the man went on, flickering Peter a
- tiny grin. Peter said nothing. Three more customers joined the back of
- his queue.
- # He was having such a lovely day.
- "Well I could have sworn..." muttered the dickhead, running his hands
- in and out of his pockets as though trying to give himself a hard-on.
- Money and keys jangled, handkerchiefs waved, small scraps of note-
- paper and sweet-wrappers showered through the air... but the sacred
- Discount Card seemed to have vanished.
- "Would you like to just pay for the screws, sir?" Peter suggested.
- "They're only twenty nine pence, part of our clearance sale-"
- "No, no, no..." mumbled the stupid bastard, now diving into the
- pockets of his shirt. "I've got my card here somewhere, I swear it."
- Peter clenched his teeth.
- # £0.29p
- Did this fuckwit think he was over-spending? Maybe he'd seen a ten in
- front of the twenty nine, instead of just a zero.
- "It's just twenty nine pence, sir." Peter said, carefully avoiding
- his almost instinctive urge to place the word "fucking" between the
- words "nine" and "pence".
- "Uh?" the old man looked up at Peter briefly. His skin contained more
- folds than a Cadbury's Twirl. "What did you say, young fella?"
- "It's just twenty nine pence." Peter repeated softly, raising a smile
- that was most definitely sarcastic.
- The old man nodded. "Yes. I know. I want ten percent off."
- "Ten percent off twenty nine pence?" Peter's eyebrows lifted.
- "Yes. Oh yes." insisted the old man.
- "I see." Peter sighed and folded his arms. He observed the lengthy
- queue of impatient customers, took a deep breath, then faced the man
- once again and said:
- "Perhaps you'd like the fuckers delivered? Hell, maybe you'd like
- each screw delivered on a different DAY, how does than sound? No good?
- What about an Installation Service? Would you like the screws FITTED
- for you as well? We do a special deal you know - buy any product over
- twenty nine pence and get a free blowjob!"
- The old man, now very angry indeed, crashed his right hand down on
- the counter. When he slid away, there it was: the sacred card.
- # THE TEN PERCENT DISCOUNT CARD.
- Peter snatched it, held it up infront of the old man's face and
- hissed:
- "Very useful these cards, sir. Very useful indeed. Have you seen what
- it says on the back?" Peter flipped the card over. "Listen. It says:
- 'This Discount Card can be used to jam up your wife's cunt. On the
- other hand if you're a wrinkly old pissflap that no woman would even
- barf on, you can endulge in the pleasures of anal insertion - simply
- ram the card up your arse for immediate excitement.' Now why don't you
- go home and try doing just that, my old goat-fucking friend?"
- "You're fired." said the old man, grinning broadly.
- "Oh yeah?"
- "Yeah."
- "And why's that, fuckface?"
- "I'm a Mystery Shopper. Have a nice day."
- The old man picked up his screws and marched away towards the
- manager's office.
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