Damn. Someone sitting at my table. I like that table; feels kind of safe. Monday’s are definitely getting busier. I’ll have to come earlier next week.
“Morning, love”
“Flying start breakfast and tea please.”
“£3.74 love. Thanks.”
As I hand over the money I realise that my table is still empty, but the one in front of it is occupied. Still not good: I prefer a good margin of solitude. I take my ticket and walk over to the cutlery rack. It’s a strange mixture of self-service and waitress here. They bring you the food, but you have to get everything else yourself. Still, it’s what I’m used to and it’s no big deal really.
“I can meet you just off the motorway, if you like.”
This was too much to resist. The guy at the table in front of me was having a conversation on his mobile phone. I decided to eavesdrop, but pretend to be busy doing nothing. I think the subterfuge worked, because what I heard next was a little shocking. Don’t ask me how, but I knew this guy was talking to a girl There was just something about the dynamic.
“I’ll call you back then, if you’ve got no credit”
I waited patiently as he dialled the number. While he was waiting for the connection I had chance to take a good look at him. Aggressive looking type. A sweaty salesman, I’d say. Dressed for business, suit, tie, but looking for all the world like a chav in a suit. A rough looking face suggested he wasn’t too keen about the niceties of how he earned money.
“I can meet you as soon as you like. No, don’t worry: it’ll be okay. They’re not going to involve the police.”
My ears pricked up now.
“No, it’s fine, don’t worry. When can you meet me? How about lunchtime? I’ll meet you at junction 16.”
His tone is very insistent. He doesn’t want this one to get away and he’s dealing with every objection she puts up. He’s selling her on meeting him. Why, I’m not sure yet.
“No, really, it’ll work. Don’t worry. Do you want to meet just off the motorway?”
Back to pushing for the committment to meet up. This guy is pretty focussed. I pretend to look out of the window and check my watch. Where is my food?
The waitress brings the breakfast and now I have some real cover. I can focus on that while listening to him.
“Why don’t you tie it to your back and wear a baggy jumper?”
My god, this man will stop at nothing.
“Tie it to the front – or back. That’ll be okay. Just wear something baggy. Just walk out as if everything’s okay.”
I feel sorry for this girl. She’s being duped, I think. Probably thinks she’s doing something reasonably okay, but not completely sure about it. She obviously keeps asking him for reassurance, which he gives rather glibly. It’s clear to me that he has no concerns on his mind other than getting it. Whatever it is. His manipulative techniques seem to be working on the girl.
“Good. Okay, I’ll meet you then. And make sure the copies are legible. Yes, you’ll be fine. See you then.”
He closes the phone and goes back to his drink. I ponder on what I’ve heard. My guess would be that he’s simply trying to steal customer details from a competitor so he can make some easy money. Reminds me of the time a chap I know wanted to do the same just before he left for a new job. He was stupid, though. He faxed the entire list to his new boss, or so he thought. Unfortunately, he actually faxed it to the Head Office, who weren’t very pleased.
This guy was a bit smarter. He got some innocent to do his dirty work. She never showed for their meeting. It wasn’t until later that evening he found out she’d been caught with the copies as she left the office. She’d forgotten to tie the documents to her back and they simply fell out of her clothing in front of everyone. Sacked, of course. She had to be. His promise of a good job once she got the list wasn’t worth the paper it was written on, of course.
She’s serving breakfasts now at my favourite eatery. I haven’t seen him around in a long time.
Note for readers not familiar with the term ‘chav’. It means the same as scumbag, or scally, Basically a lower class person with little taste.
Copyright A F Motin 2006. Please do not reproduce without permission.
Number of words: 786
Amin, this story leaves your readers with a lot to think about. I suspect there are quite a few possible interpretations. I look forward to reading many more here.
Hi WA.
I’d kind of like to know what happened next on this one too. It was based on a real incident and my feelings about the girl are expressed in the story. I’ve seen that kind of thing happen a few times and it never works out well for the person being manipulated.
As long as I’m not too obvious when listening to other people’s conversations I should have a regular stream of ideas on a Monday!