For fuck’s sake, what is the world coming to?
I need to get out of here. I can feel my blood pressure rising by the second. “What is your most popular backpack?”
“This one.” The salesman holds it up. “Without a doubt.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Do you want the black or the red?”
Red.
I narrow my eyes. Is this guy for real? Nobody wants a fucking red backpack. “Black.”
“What else does he need?” Elliot asks.
“How long you going for?”
“Twelve months.”
The sales assistant whistles. “Hard core.”
Hard core . . . what the hell does that mean?
“If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it,” I snap.
He points to Elliot with his thumb. “He just asked for it.”
I roll my eyes; this guy is getting on my nerves. “What are the essentials?”
“Comfortable shoes, good mini towels.”
“What’s a mini towel?”
He holds up a little pack the size of a deck of cards. “This has a towel in it.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Impressive.”
“What other mini things do you have?” Elliot asks him.
“Apart from the obvious,” I mutter under my breath.
“Stop,” Elliot whispers.
“Compass.” He marches over to retrieve a compass.
“Compass?” I call. “I’m going backpacking, not climbing Mount Everest.”
This guy is a total fuckwit.
Elliot widens his eyes in a shut-up-now sign.
The guy returns and passes me a compass, and I pass it straight to Elliot.
“We’ll take it,” Elliot replies way too fast.
“We have these great water bottles,” the salesman continues as he walks to the other side of the store.
“We are not taking the compass,” I whisper.
“What if you get lost.”
“I’ll look on Google Maps like a person from the twenty-first fucking century.” I roll my eyes.
“You’re taking it,” he whispers angrily.
“I am not taking it,” I whisper. I snatch it off him and stuff it onto a shelf.
The salesman returns with a huge-ass water bottle. “This one here is great. It will stay hot or cold for twenty-four hours, and this long cord allows you to wear it around your neck. And look, it’s camouflage.”
“If you think I’m wearing a camouflage water bottle around my neck, you need to go to the hospital.”
Elliot gets the giggles as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you sell GoPros?”
“Why would I need a GoPro?” I frown.
“Because I want you to wear it strapped to your head at all times so we can watch this shit live as it goes down.”
I roll my eyes.
“This would make great reality television, actually.” He raises his eyebrows as if having an epiphany. “I should call someone; a network would defo want this.”
“Shut. The fuck. Up.” I widen my eyes. “You are not calling anyone.”