And lo, it came to pass…

...you need mafia influence for effective money extraction.

Yes folks, this really is the final part of the supermarket saga.  It took me over a month to get back the money that Lemar effectively lightened me of waaaaay back in the dim dark days of December.  Except they weren’t dim, or dark...but they were in December, so.

The saga has been one of frustration and repeated pleas (me), repeated and ever more ridiculous excuses (them).

In the end I was once again relaying my story of financial woe and asking why, why, why of anyone within earshot in the NightJar when Nice Faik overheard me. 

Nice Faik is a man engaged in a very dodgy (read ‘interesting’) line of work.  Ask him what he does by all means, but never press him on the point as he will instantly get suspicious of your motives and disappear for a while - or make you disappear for a while.  Anyway, Nice Faik has lots of nice fingers in lots of nice pies and knows lots of most people, and those he doesn’t know certainly know him!

He likes me and Andy, I know not why, might’ve been because I offered to open his beer with my teeth once?  He did pay our bar bill unbeknown to us that night before slipping away into the darkness of the wee small hours to ‘sort out a small problem.’ So I guess my offer must’ve impressed him?  Or it might be because he and Andy share an unusual sense of humour and a love of peanuts and like to giggle together at the odd antics of a select few whilst nibbling!?  Whatever - so I relayed the story, happy to hold the attention of someone whilst alleviating myself of my Lemar burden!

I was surprised by the vehemence of his ensuing anger!  More surprised when he called me the very next day (before I was even dressed actually) asking if he could pick me up forthwith and take me to Lemar to sort this mess out!  Now, Faik is a VERY busy man, and a VERY influential man.  You wouldn’t normally see him in a supermarket - I think he has people to do things like that.  And for him to offer to drive me there?  And sort out what was in effect a very small (in the greater scheme of things) problem.  What could I say?  Well, of course I insisted it wasn’t necessary and that as he was a busy man, I didn’t want to drag him from his ‘work’ and and and other platitudes and stuff as I was shocked really.  But he insisted.

So, he picked me up...nice car...and we went to Lemar.  (I’d gotten dressed by now, don’t panic.)

Now, picture this - busy supermarket, packed tills, lots of hustle and bustle, can’t hear yourself think...now imagine us walking towards the doors, a few heads turning, the doors are opening, there’s a buzz of whispered excitement...all heads now turn...all action stops, people pause - open mouthed - and stare in fear and wonderment as we enter.  It’s Faik, it’s him...and who is SHE???  All eyes are on us, a pin could drop and deafen the silence, tumbleweed blows past as we make our way to customer services.  Slowly people silently return to their shopping, pretending to pack it up but all the while keeping one eye on us. 

The silence is broken when the manager from the Castle (a pub where I’ve enjoyed many a Chelsea match but never once really made any lasting impression) spots me...BIG HUGE GRIN, hello, hello, haven’t seen you at the Castle for a while, you’re always most welcome, bring your friend, aren’t Chelsea doing well, great team (he’s a West Ham man!!!) Such love, such warmth, such a surprise.  I feel like a film star, like royalty, I expect people to rush forward and offer Nice Faik and me their first born son or a bunch of grapes...such is the power of Faik’s presence in this place.  Awesome!

Then all at once customer service woman who was a little cold and a wee bit unhelpful towards me before nearly wets herself in her attempt to please Nice Faik...she personally sends a minion to the depths of the shop to extract the manager who invites us personally to his office where we are given coffee and sweet things to eat and a head massage and a manicure and he practically begs Faik to be his best friend forever.

Faik gets me a chair, tells me to sit quietly in the corner and not to concern myself with what is about to happen.  He then seats himself in the manager’s chair, forcing the manager to half sit, half perch on the other side of the desk...and he begins to speak in a very calm, soft, controlled voice.  He is obviously speaking in Turkish and there are only two words I understand...the first is ‘respect’...the second is ‘tomorrow.’ After speaking in this way for about fifteen minutes he stands, invites me to slap the manager across the face and we leave.

On our way out he advises me to return to the shop tomorrow at 11 to collect my money.  But what did you say Faik?  I explained the people need to learn to respect my friends.

So, I returned at 11, collected my money...and haven’t been back since!

And that my friends concludes the sage.  The moral of the story is deep and many layered and confusing...something along the lines of don’t pay for your shopping twice and always make friends with the RIGHT people just in case you do...I think?