Last Saturday morning will go down in history as one of the most memorable for me, & not for any good reason!
I packed up the family truckstar early that morning, busted my back trying to lift an esky full of ice & dip into said truckstar & headed east, to a town I dare not name, in case any of the 'people' (I use that term very broadly!), should send their cousins, or their wife or husband, who is probably also their cousin, after me!!
As I munched on my cold toast & sipped my warm thermos of Earl Grey tea, I was quite excited about the prospect of setting up my little stall of love, & sharing my product with the masses on a lovely Saturday morning; not to mention, mentally spending the thousands of dollars I was going to make & envisioning myself on the front cover of BRW Magazine's Top 50 Rich List, sporting a new nose (which of course I would have bought with my millions!), holding a tub of Pesto Twirl in one hand & my new 'Personal Assistant' - Mathew McConaughy's, hand, in the other!! Just kidding Pete, on second thoughts, I'd probably be holding the marinated mushrooms instead!
Anyway...this particular morning was going to make the difference between potential & reality glaringly obvious for me. For starters I set up under a lovely tree to make sure my dips weren't in the sun & then responsible for a food poisoning outbreak, all seemed well & good until it started raining Lady Bugs & didn't stop until I packed up & left. Then the lovely Italian gentleman next to me came over & complimented me on my products, but then followed up with a swift, "but you know you won't sell any of that over here, not the market for it"....excellent! Unbeknown to me, I should have listened to the guy, packed up then & there & saved myself three hours in purgatory...but then I wouldn't have this humorous little tale to tell!
Next a ute pulled up alongside me & out hopped my other neighbour - he was selling cow poo, & I think every fly from here to Albany came along for the ride - fantastic!
Over the next two hours, my dreams of appearing on the front cover of BRW Magazine, quickly morphed into an appearance on the front cover of 'Mass Murderers Monthly', for if I didn't leave when I did, which was a very long two hours after I arrived & if I had to endure the presence & attempt at intelligent communication of one more moronic individual, I would have definitely gone completely off the reservation!
In fact the response I received, much to the amusement of my fertiliser-selling friend next door, was nothing short of unbelievable, in fact it was so bad that I started collating the insults & by the end of the LONG two hours I realised that I had clocked up at least fifteen 'yuks', twelve 'what's that?', quickly followed by 'but I don't like dip' & 'I hate olives' - of the fifty five or so morons I encountered only five morons actually tasted anything & one of those I suspected was just having his breakfast fix at my expense (also he had no teeth, so dip must have seemed an attractive option!). Many morons inquired as to whether they had to pay to taste anything, but before I could answer, most of them quickly deduced that I wasn't selling Cheeseburgers or Big Mac's & so didn't want a bar of me!
Of the two sales I did have that morning I can honestly say that the people were lovely. One sale, Salmon Mousse, was to a lady originally from Geelong, who had lived in this particular town for only three months & was interested in starting up a Farmers Market, good luck, I shan't be there!
My other sale, Roast Garlic Hommus, was to a elderly gentleman who was an organic farmer in the area, he seemed lovely until I started to be lectured on 'the youth of today & how their phones were rotting their brains' - I wasn't quite sure how to take this - did he think of me as a fellow old fart raring to enthusiastically bag 'the youth of today' along with him, or did he think I was a junior headcase myself because he saw me checking my phone every five minutes, (I was actually looking at my phone & willing it to ring with some sort of situation that would allow me to get the hell out of there - no such call came!).
Anyway, to cut a long & tragic story short, at 10am I decided to pull the pin on my little stall of love, which I had, over the past two hours, began to think of as my little stall of shit. I grabbed my complimentary sausage in stale white bread & a can of lemonade (because they didn't sell Tequila), & jumped in the car, eager to get home...of course the bloody battery had to be flat, didn't it!
Forty five minutes later, no more sausage, no lemonade, no RAC guy...lots of bad language!!
Luckily for me I have married a very sympathetic & understanding man, who comforted me upon my arrival home with, "well I'm not really surprised" (information I could have done with four hours ago...), we're no longer married!
Until next time faithful Nibblees, keep on Nibbling!
Jen x
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