Battery and Attempted Suicide

As some of you may know, My job is a hairy brewers wet dream. I work in a homebrew supply store which is attached to a pub and brewery. This is pretty great – I do have to deal with my fair share of drunk people, but that’s alright because I can always join in!

Saturday morning was an overcast, gray, rainy day when I got to work. It was the kind of day when you’re constantly putting on sunglasses, taking them off, putting them on, taking them off… You have a hoodie with you just in case, but you never use it, and you’re not really too sure about whether or not you should turn on your headlights…

You see where this is going…

We tried push starting it but there wasn’t even enough charge for ignition lights, never mind a starter motor. We tried push starting it again, this time we had a slight hill to push it down. Much to our unified relief it sputtered alive! Ha. Kidding. Not even a peep.

Enter: The jumpers! More accurately, enter teeny weeny jumpers along with one of the smallest engines I’ve ever seen in a car. I’m not kidding when I say there was space under that hood for a whole second engine!

Anyway, so we hooked up this lawnmower to our big fat 4 x 4 – positive to positive, negative to earth, butts in seats.

All was going well, until a drunk car guard decides that in between telling us to “rev both cars, then we can go” he should take it upon himself to swap the cables. At least that’s what I think he was trying to do… When a drunk starts trying to mess with incredibly charged cables, you tend to intervene pretty quick.

After wacking him away, I went back to my butt-in-seat position, a little more wary this time.

Foolishly, I thought that was the end of my troubles until another guy, not visibly drunk this time, just nuts, decided that he should also come and fiddle around with somebody else’s car. No asking or anything, just walks up, grabs the cables, and starts fiddling before I can get out of the drivers seat.

Needless to say, I was not a happy chap, but after half an hour, two idiots, and four knife fights, we got to go home to enjoy our cold pizza, and me, half a sandwich.

You can read more of my junk here: Niume Things

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