I pull in at the fuel station
and punch the radio news to silence. This government … Argh! Rating agencies are having a field day, again, after the so-called State of the Nation Address. It certainly is in a state – a most expensive circus, which brings little joy …
“Good day, sir. How may I wow you today?” He smiles, also through his right eye –
the left a scar tissued socket.
“Oh, uhm, yes. Please fill up with diesel,” I say, handing over my keys, he wears a blue and red uniform and only has his thumb and index finger left, on his right hand.
“Water? Oil? Tyres?”
“Uhm, yes please.”
“Two point one bar, all around, please.”
“Right away, sir,” he says and proceeds to dance around my Opel,
whistling an upbeat tune.
Card machine. PIN.
“Thank you, sir! Enjoy your evening,” he says as I add a cash tip.
His name tag catches my eye:
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