In Case Of Emergency

I love long-weekends, especially those that include Mondays.
This past long-weekend was exceptionally awesome. It included plenty of me doing nothing, and lately that's become my favorite past-time.

I had tickets to the Top Gear show at Kyalami, but thankfully I read the reviews from folk that went on Friday and it seems like a miserable time was had by all except the VIP's. Hence I decided to spend the rainy Saturday indoors, snuggled up under a polar fleece duvet watching movies all day.
When I finally did get around to reading the Saturday review of the show, it turns out everybody and their donkey were rather miffed by all the walking they had to do just to get to and from the entrance, not to mention the mudfest that greeted them once inside.
Thanks, but no thanks.

So I'm in the market for buying a new TV, and I'm gobsmacked at the great offerings out there for the same amount of money that barely bought me a kitchen TV a few years back.
I decided to visit Dion Wired in Woodmead and the salesman were super eager to sell me the entire store. Yes he was Indian. I finally found a sexy Samsung monster TV that would look divine on my lounge wall, and we walk to the corner of the store to have a look at one on display.

Allow me to set the scene for you.
When I say the corner of the store, I literally do mean the corner of the store. If this TV was any more in the corner, it would be mounted outside. So I wedge myself between the TV and the wall to get a better view of all the possible connections into this monster from behind, and I'm so tightly squeezed in you couldn't fit an anorexic's baby toe in there with me. Somehow, don't ask me how because Physics was never my strong subject, but SOMEHOW  this salesman fits himself in there right next to me!
Now 2 things you need to know about me.
I am very claustrophobic.
I am very finicky about germs and cleanliness.
I don't use the word 'very' lightly here.

Right, so there's me wedged into a corner behind a monster TV, and there's Indian salesman squeezing himself in right next to me. I can't move along and make more space for either of us because I'm now up against the damn TV bracket, and this moron is inches away from my face explaining all the connections behind the TV, like I'm  Helen Keller about to buy a Samsung.
Next thing you know, and I kid you not, this fucking retard sneezes! Not once but twice!!
Huge disgusting snotty flu sneezes!!

Now I'm not the most polite of people at the best of times, but when I'm jammed into the corner of a store behind a massive TV up against a wall stuck between a bracket and a retard who just sneezed twice into the only breathable pocket of air, you bet your arse I'm going to lose my mind and get impolite!
So I did the only thing any logical person would do and I started hitting the back of the TV like a baby gorilla trying to get out of it's momma gorilla's cooch during birth.
This Indian salesman must have thought I was having an epileptic fit! He raced out of that tiny space and grabbed the front of the TV , all the while shouting "What? What? What?!!!" I'm still not sure why he was shouting "What?" but when I finally took my first breath of fresh clean air outside the store, he was nowhere to be seen (I held my breath from his two sneezes until I got outside).

This was on Tuesday.
Today I walked by the store and as usual I was bombarded by eager salesman, including our intrepid Indian sneeze-guru. It took him 3 seconds to recognize me, before he ran for the hills never to be seen again.

Tomorrow I shall go shopping for a fridge.
Watch this space.