Someone once told me, when you have a tiger by the tail, don't keep tugging. Put it down and back away slowly. There has been a situation brewing on our counter for sometime now,concerning one of our many 'friends', or as we know them, stalkers. Yes, we do actually have them. You wouldn't think so, as none of us are actually famous but we do.
For instance, I have my nemesis the sample hunting, Helmet Head. Miss Pankhurst has the Artful Dodger, a well known local ne'r do well with a drippy nose and a tendency to spit as he speaks. 'She who must be Obeyed' has a number of 'fans' who stop by. Tanya/Stan we are not sure, but he/she wears mini skirts and spits as well. Grubby Hairdresser man, never buys aftershave, but uses heaps of ours. Serious Rasta, he knows more about our products than we do. He never feels he can just stop by for a chat as weirdly, 'time is money' so he always asks about the ingredients in everything. Strange Dumpy woman, this one sprays her elbows with perfume for about ten minutes and the Fruit Man who has problems with his feet.
Amongst this social whirl emerges, probably our scariest 'friend', The Cook. After initially seeming like a nice old lady, she started bombarding Miss Marple with requests, livid green celebration cakes and other confectionery, baked by her. Now, as an expert conspiracy theorist and a friend to the extended train of thought, Miss Marple was deeply suspicious of these treats. Whilst remaining gracious in the face of this cake based worship, she always remembered that even Snow White was caught out by an old lady bearing gifts. So when The Cook started demanding things like, a Taxi ordering service and help carrying her many purchases, she knew it would end in tears.
Attempting to disassociate herself from The Cook, she was caught out a few times. The Cook called the Hall of Plenty to find out when she was working. Insisted that Miss Marple bring lipsticks for her to view whilst she was on a different floor having her hair done and even demanded that she look about the store for various items of clothing The Cook needed.
So our little Tiger began to feel liberties were being taken with her tail. When The Cook called us recently for a little chat with Miss Marple, the look on her face said it all. Apparently The Cook had lost a bag of purchases, luckily they were insured on the credit card, but she needed someone to say they had seen her with the bag in our Hall of Plenty. Miss Marple declined, The Cook insisted. (Tug) Miss Marple excused herself, the Cook got drunk and called back.(Tug) Miss Marple explained that would be fraud. The Cook got angry and slammed down the phone. (Tug) The Cook phoned back and wheedled. (Tuggity -Tug) Miss Marple declined and put their association into perspective for The Cook. Thinking this the end of the matter Miss Marple moved on.
A week later 'She who must be Obeyed' received a rambling rant from the Cook about Miss Marple. Assuming the sozzled old gin sack had finished assaulting our counter with pastries we all relaxed. But No! Determined to have the last word in she came when Miss Marple was alone, ten minutes before the close of the Hall of Plenty, demanded Miss Marple fetch her a seat.(Tug) Sat silently staring at her for five minutes, (Tug) then insisted she look after her umbrella whilst the Cook explored the store. (Tug)
Always polite Miss Marple refused, so when The Cook simply abandoned her umbrella on the counter, Miss Marple sellotaped it together and stuck to the front of the till, called security and left them to deal with the matter.
Hear her Roar, old woman!
We haven't seen The Cook since.
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