I was all bright and morning when I decided to try a city fruit stall, for the first time, on the way to work. On display was a small array of fruit, all in their skins.

Fruiterers have different dispositions to butchers

“Do you have any chopped up fruit?” I said.

“No” he said, “I don’t have a kitchen, just this stall in the street. I don’t have anywhere to chop fruit. I don’t have a fridge to store it in. There’s nowhere for me to keep sliced fruit. I don’t have a kitchen. When would I cut it up anyway? I don’t want to get up at 4am to chop fruit for my lovely customers…”

“I’ll take a green apple and a banana please” I said.

I could feel my facial muscles tense into a grimace and my breathing became more conscious. Buying something healthy before work should be easier, the multitude of muffin sellers in the city are, everyone of them, more gracious. I need to complete the transaction and escape the fruit guy. The day just begun, along with my interest in fruit, was rapidly spoiling.

“I don’t get home before 7pm” he said “When would I cut up fruit? I don’t have anywhere to store it? No-one in the city has sliced fruit” he said, and he kept it up, going on and on…

He was ranting, my morning feeling was evaporating. I stood to receive my fruit as his tirade bruised me.

He could have said “No” to my original enquiry.
He could have said “NO”.
He could have said “Sorry, I don’t have chopped fruit”.
He could even have said, “Wah? Chopped fruit? Are you kidding me?”

He could have smiled, sans rant, and preserved my morning, saved my mood and smile, not that he cared about his “lovely customer”.

I’m never going back, non, nah, neh, nein, nr, no.