"Did you know...that if a pregnant woman dyes her hair...it will change the colour of her baby's hair..."
"That cannot be true."
"Tis'"
Conversations like this happened quite often. Amanda was the sort of person that made you feel smart no matter grades she achieved. It's strange because she was clever, but yet a bit ditsy at the same time. Although whether the fact that she confidently mentioned is actually true, I never really bothered to find out.
"Let's go in the shop, I fancy a Red Bull" Amanda suggested.
My first thought was that I would rather stab myself in the face. The owner of this particular shop was an absolute prat, who hated anyone who was under the age of 21. I can understand that shopkeepers get harassment from mostly teenagers, but him being an unhygienic, ogling pervert arsehole; he never really helped himself.
Never the less, I agreed to wander into England's most depressing corner shop.
The second we arrived outside the green automatic doors, we were greeted by an excruciating high pitch noise. He had recently installed some form of a teenage torturing alarm that made anyone young enough to hear it, to grimace and grab their ears as if they were being brainwashed.
Walking into the shop, I could already see his enormous sausage arms leaning on the raised counter. He was staring at us through his tiny eyes, placed close together on his ridiculously round shaved head. His name was Matthew. Or "Fatty Matty" to us. It may sound harsh now, but trust me, if you had to put up with his behaviour for the majority of your adolescent life, you would understand where we were coming from.
I don't generally insult people on their weight or looks, as I find it cruel, but when someone has a disgusting personality, you tend to rope in their disgusting body (assuming they have one) along with it. He was only young, perhaps around the age of 28-32, although his weight made him look older and more miserable. He was married, which always surprised me, as I could barely spend 2 minutes in his presence without wanting to press my fingers into his eyeballs, so who knows how he got someone to marry him. Maybe I was just too judgemental, perhaps he was a sweetheart; or perhaps he just hated anyone younger and thinner than him. Matt also had a young child - which blew my mind. I saw him and his wife (also severely overweight, who had a face that was permanently stuck in a "I want to kill you" position) walking with a young boy. I assume it was their son, as he shared the same hateful squinty stare as his father. Good luck to the boy.
Amanda grabbed her drink, and paid for it at the counter without fuss, perhaps Matthew was too busy glaring at her exposed skin.
I placed my purchases on the counter and said, as I always did,
"I'll take these please"
No response from Matthew. He made sure to make no eye contact with me, only to longingly stare at the chocolate bar he was trying to scan through the machine.
He aggressively prodded his trotters onto some buttons and the tiny screen flashed '£0.79'
I handed him a pound coin with a cheerful "There you go" and he calmly took it from my hand and placed it into the till. There was an awkward silence.
"...I think you've forgotten my change..." I said as friendly as possible.
He slowly opened the till and slowly counted the change before slowly making me wish I was dead. I assumed I would arrive back home before dark but at this rate I suppose I was wrong. He threw the change onto the counter, causing pennies to roll every which way. I scrambled to collect them and shoved them into my coat pocket.
"Thank you!" I said as I bared my teeth in a fake smile.
It wasn't until we reached the doors to leave that I heard him softly say, "You're welcome".
"Why does he always take so long to reply?" Amanda questioned once we were far enough away from the shop.
"I don't know. To creep everyone out? The worst thing is is that he has a really soft, calm voice that has that sickly cotton candy thing about it" I shuddered, then ripped into my chocolate bar.
"I think its a trait that all people who interact with teenagers or children have to have. You have to be a grumpy git to own a shop, or to drive a bus, or be a teacher. It's as if we have done something to them in a past life and they want some sort of revenge on us."
I nodded in agreement. I always thought it was strange that you could be forced to interact with such people, that otherwise you would stay a thousand miles away from. The fact that I might need to buy some toilet roll is the only reason I have to see him. If it was up to me I would never go near him or anyone like him, and vice versa. But certain circumstances place you in a situation where you a forced to spend time with people you never naturally would, similarly if you were to get a job that you didn't necessarily enjoy or benefit from, but yet you carry on doing it...but for what reason? Yes, to earn money, to make a living, but if there was a better path for you to chose, wouldn't you follow it?
Society tells us that it is normal to do things that you hate. It is normal to voluntarily spend time with people you don't like. And that it is expected to chose a life that you don't want, over one that you do.
