Off to the Vast Office Supplies Warehouse to acquire a desk. We identify the item we want and waylay a charming and helpful attendant.
“We’d like one of these please.”
He checks inventory, and regretfully tells us that it is currently out of stock at the local store, but is available at another branch a few kilometers away (that’s cubic bushels to you Old World types).
“Would you like me to call ahead to reserve you one?” he offers.
We would indeed.
“I’ll just take your details.” He checks his pockets. “One moment – I’ll grab a pen.”
We follow him through aisles of gleaming new pens of every conceivable colour, nib type, ink variety and price. In the office area he scouts around. My Organised Companion reaches into her bag and silently offers him her pen. As a fork-lift deposits two tonnes of fresh 80gsm photocopier grade beside us, the poor chap asks:
“I don’t suppose you’d have scrap of paper too?”
We left before he actually burst into tears.