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It's been a quiet end to the month so come Saturday, after a morning of not handing out a single key but giving out countless directions to the sea, taxi ranks and holiday camps whilst informing the odd cheeky scouser that I don't have a toilet or public phone, I decide for the sake of my metal health I need to get out of here and cheer myself by going to watch the mighty Wrexham play some sexy football. I need to be leaving by 2pm. At 1.45 pm a couple of folk walk on the pitch, after I've locked the keys away a couple walk on to the pitch looking at some Peugeot Estates I've got, but they want the option of a sixth seat. In that case, the 208 and 407 are of no use to you, it's the 307 or 308 you want. 'Hmmm, but I really like the 407' says the man, and goes over to said SW's. It's 1.50 I get the keys back out so that your man can look at both cars. He likes them, but goes back to the 407. I remind him it's a 5 seater, 'hmmmm, but I really like it', then adding once again he needs 6 seats. It's now 2pm and the man isn't showing many buying signals and I'm doing my duck in a whirlpool impersonation. I may appear calm to your man on top, but underneath I'm paddling like feck panicking that I'm cutting it fine for kick off. Another 5 minutes go by (during which time it's confirmed again that the 407 is only a 5 seater) and I start to reason with myself that I'm going to miss the match. Another 5 minutes go by and he is swaying to the 307 and I have given up all hope of going to the match. Work comes first I tell myself and I go into sales mode. I quote him for finance, and after the penny drops that the 407 is not a 6 seater, never has been nor never will be, he tells me he will take the 307 and we fill out a prop. At 2.22 PM I make a decision to go the match and having avoided North Wales' finest I manage to get into the ground at about 3.10pm, just after the first goal goes in. We win, we play like Brazil, I'm on a promise and life is good. The following morning I go in for an appointment (all sundays are appointment) and I prop my 307 man. 10 minutes later he gets accepted and I make the call and this is where it all goes pear shaped. He has changed his mind, he doesn't want a 6 seater and has been told by his expert relative that all Peugeots are made by the devil and he will not be proceeding. Nice of you to let me know, and how kind of you to make me miss the all important first goal of the game. ****! 30 minutes later the phone goes. It's the man who is buying a Grand Picasso, or should that be, was buying the Grand Picasso. He gives me some cock and bull story and asks for his deposit back. I say no, he says fine and that's that. This is not the start to my bank holiday weekend that I was hoping for. Needless to say, the one and only appointment I had never turned up and when I rang they simply told me something had cropped up, like butter wouldn't melt and it's not like us car dealers have anything else to do. To say I was not a happy bunny is a bit of an understatement. That's it, the bank can have their keys back, I'm off to stack shelves, get my life back and not have anymore idiots in my life. After a lovely Sunday out, finished off with a lovely Roast Dinner and a few pints of Boogle Doodle I had calmed down and on returning home had confirmed another appointment ( I was having the Monday off) for this morning, god loves a trier and all that. Boom! First appointment dealt, lovely local people as well. An hour later, another Boom and then another on a cheapie. Life is good, the job is good. What a difference a day makes, 24 little hours.....

I feel for you bro'. If you want a guest spot on Ranty Friday, just let me know.