Saturday, 29 July 2006

I'm a spy

"I am a spy", I thought. My job was to infliltrate myself into the wonderful world of the cafes of London, looking for clues on how to... well... sell more Baileys in cafes. But it's a start! Today Cafes, tomorrow maybe secret societies, who knows. I just want to infiltrate. But if any secret society actively invites me to join in I would be glad too.

But yeah, they call it mystery shopping over here. I had to go around town for 3 days asking for something "creamy and refreshing" to see if they offered me Baileys, and if not I would ask "what have you got with Baileys?" Then I had to order one of the 4 options: Baileys frappe, Baileys latte, Baileys blended and Baileys on ice. Had to take pictures of the bar, take notes of where the merchandising was, if they used the correct glassware and stuff like that. All very secret and well paid.

As I sat my beautiful ass by the window in my first attempt to spy a nice cafe in South Kensington the phone rang. Me: "OH, HELLO MATE! HOW ARE YOU? YES, I AM FINE. JUST ENJOYING THE SUN IN A CAFE SOUTH OF THE RIVER! YEAH, I AM WORKING. I AM MYSTERY SHOPPING! Bollocks. Everyone started laughing out loud, shit. Italian background, you know, shouting and moving hands, what makes me really discreet.

Whatever. I made my way to the second cafe, took pictures, sat down to enjoy my Baileys Latte and the phone rang. It was a Brazilian mate of mine, so I felt free to explain him what I was doing in Portuguese, my mother tongue, so nobody would discover my true identity. Finished my Baileys and said goodbye to the barman, who said goodbye back, BUT IN PORTUGUESE!! The fucker was Brazilian too! I completely fucked up everything.

Secret societies, if you thought about inviting me to join you and after reading this you changed your mind, I would like to let you know that I AM GOING TO START MY OWN SECRET SOCIETY, SO PISS OFF!

And we wouldn't understand each other anyway. I have this terrible problem of communication, you know, here in England. I speak so loud and passionately that if I tell you guys I'm going to the shop to buy cigarettes you will think I'm never coming back. Are you laughing?! It's serious!

Me and my housemates were discussing what paint we should buy and what colours we should paint what room. Some of them wanted to use eco paint as everything in the house tends to be ecologically political, which I'm proud of most of the time, but I suggested we used Dulux, just cos it's thick, nice, practical, doesn't drip, basically it is very efficient. I said it in my normal tone of voice and they looked at me as if I was shagging the paint.

I know how to speak low and slow though, to the right person.


Indigobusiness said...

I'm willing to shag paint, if someone will show me how.

Paulette said...

No as if I was shagging the paint right at that moment, but in my room secretely. Something like that.

Indigobusiness said...

I'm still confused, but that was a very interesting post.

Your working life is fraught with possibility and peril.

Masters of Atlantis, by Charles Portis is a hilarious book about secret societies.

Paulette said...

Oh, I don't have words to express how I love my work life... in the summer...

I'll check the book you recommended me. I quite like the idea of a secret society. I really want to start one. A half secret one.

Indigobusiness said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Indigobusiness said...

(fixed my bad edit)

I failed to mention, it's about starting one, sort of from the ashes of an old one.

Portis is an interesting, and very funny, guy. He has written some good stuff that takes place in Mexico. Sometimes I have to put the book down and just laugh. But he is pretty brutally dramatic, as well.

Masters of Atlantis is disarming.