An elderly couple struggling with their luggage at the train station. I offer to help them in my bestest least aggressive posh customer service voice, honed from those years I worked on helpdesks.....
"Would you like me to help you?"
The old lady looked me up and down with fearful antipathy, steeled her eyes and sneered "No thankyou." and proceeded to huff and puff with her stumbling bald husband till they got on the train seconds before the door closing beeps.
OK, so I look rough, I have a beard, I have long hair, but I was not in any way interested in stealing a suitcase full of her big pink elasticated knickers and his awful Ronnie Corbet cardigans.
I think I represented two archetypes for her :
1) Arab fanatic
2) English dastardly villain (my accent is ever so posh when I'm doing customer service stuff)
She should stop watching those Hollywood films I reckon.
I also ate raw garlic the night before, just to see what it tasted of, so maybe I stank too. I can forgive her that I suppose.
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