I know sometimes I complain about my job: the writing, the fatigue. Most days of research, however, leave me in a good mood.
I spotted this great fish and chips place, closed for the lunch and dinner break. "No worries" I thought, "I will get all the information down and come back later." Delighted that I didn't have to try and disguise my notetaking as I normally do in my restaurant research, I was freely and blatantly coping down prices, phone numbers, menu items—"HEY! What are you doing?" I may have jumped. A small scream may have escaped my lips. A young Irishman was peering out the take-away window looking at me. I was on the spot. My mind was racing, I felt like I had been caught doing something wrong, and I could feel myself blushing.
"Are you trying to steal our recipes?"
"No!" I squeaked, but that was the only thing I could think to say. He just raised an eyebrow at me. That was it, my game was up, I could not think of anything else to say
"I'm a travel writer for a research publication" I blurted out all in one word. He raised his other eyebrow. "I mean, a research writer for a travel publication." At this point I am beginning to regain maybe a bit of my professionalism. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"
The small amount of professionalism didn't last long. His cheekiness pervaded every question I had.
"What comes with the meal?"
"Mushy peas, vinegar, and this dazzling smile"
"And do you have a phone number?"
"Well that's a bit forward, but here it is"
"Is this the restaurant's phone number?"
"Well you didn't ask for that, did you?" He had me there. "But if you want to get ahold of me at work, here it is and I'm here until 11."
I could not help but laugh. He was too quick witted, and obviously having way too much fun making me flustered. I walked out of that place laughing as he shouted pick-up lines after me. This job can be so much fun.