So I was in one of those little shops at a St Andrew gas station recently, when in walked Preston, a short man with slightly irregular ears and a nose that presided over his face like a Supreme Court judge.

I was standing at the back of the shop, checking out the refrigerator, while Preston walked up to the cashier.

"Yow! Yuh sell syntectics oil?" he asked the woman behind the counter. His voice was raspy and full of venom.

Now, this is just my own feeling, but that might not have been the best way to approach the woman behind the counter. I mean, she was a muscular woman who, as far as I could tell, was not having a good day. The scowl on her face gave me the heebie jeebies.

"Wah kinda oil?" the woman asked dryly.

"Systemic or syntectic or whatsover dem call it, man. Is somebody ask mi fi buy it," Preston replied, looking annoyed at having to repeat the request.

"We nuh sell none a dat! Mi not even know ah wah dat. Is only engine oil we sell. Dat is the only oil what deh bout. Anyting yuh need oil for, yuh can use dat one," the woman responded. She folded her arms in front of her and leaned on the wall beside her.

The man looked her up and down, then stared at the wall behind her.

"Weh dat deh?" Preston asked. The woman pointed to a shelf behind him and Preston took off in that direction.

Meanwhile, I was making my way to the counter, which, by the way, I was dreading, because of the looks of the cashier.

"Idiot," she whispered as Preston walked off. "Him not even know seh every oil ah di same oil," she looked at me, I guess, for agreement. I gave an awkward smile and shook my head, hoping simply to stay on the muscular woman's good side.

Before I could hand the woman the bottle of water that I was planning to buy, Preston returned. He was clutching two black plastic containers of the same size.

"How much fi two ah dem here?" he asked the cashier.

"Dem deh is two different oil. One is fi cyar engine and di other one is fi machine or sinting or di edda," the woman replied.

This did not sit well with Preston. I took a step back.

"Den nuh you same one tell mi seh di whole ah di oil dem ah di same ting?" he yelled.

"Yes daddy!" the cashier shouted back. "For yuh ah mus' my daddy! Not even my fadda nuh shout to mi so!"

"Mi nuh business wid yuh and yuh Pupa! All mi waan know is which one ah di oil dem mi fi carry go give di people dem, cause yuh tell mi seh is one oil alone deh, now yuh ah tell mi sinting else. Look yah nuh man, dem fi bring in some more brighter people fi work inna establishment, yuh know man," he said, mostly to himself.

Cockroach in a fowl fight

A man arranging bottles on a shelf behind the cashier started chuckling. The woman turned and gave him a stern look that shut him up quite quickly. He went back to arranging the bottles.

"Look yah, somebody come help dis idiot yah fi mi, yuh hear! Mi nuh have nuh patience fi deal wid him," the woman said, loudly.

I looked around, but the only other person in the shop was the man arranging bottles on the shelf. He wasn't moving an inch, I suppose because of the dirty look he got from the woman only moments earlier.

I glanced at Preston and saw that he was about to blow a fuse. I thought it best to forget about the bottle of water and make my way toward the exit. As I walked out, I heard Preston letting loose.

"Dat's why dem nuh fi get nuh teg-reg fi work inna 'stablishment!" I heard him shout.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

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