As I was sitting on a bench, having consumed a snack of puffed rice bread and finished off with a smoke, I was approached by a young man of unclear intentions. Have you been sitting here long? he inquired. I considered it a curious way of greeting but responded that not really and inquired what he wanted. He wouldn’t say.
Instead, he sat down next to me and asked me what I had for breakfast. I thought it escalated quickly but decided to humour him. As far as a brief snort of I don’t eat breakfast qualifies as good-humoured. I quickly asked in turn what he ate for breakfast but didn’t really want to know. The answer was the quizzical nutrients.
The conversation continued in this vein, which soon became boring and I was no longer interested in what the man’s problem was. He eventually came clean, confessing that he was a nutrition specialist. I was too nonplussed by then to even fall into a fit of laughter at the wild idea that I would waste my non-existent money on the advice of a nutrition specialist.
I told the specialist straight away that his service was not required. When I left the bench and walked a bit on, I saw him harassing another random person in the street. I think he was doing it wrong. He didn’t even leave me his business card. I could have just as well got drunk and wanted to call him to give him my honest opinion of his nutrients.