Wizz

In my previous neighborhood, when I first moved in, I decided to look for a lounge where I could sit out regularly. I found one. On my first day there, the guy in charge of the snooker table asked if he could use my charger to boost his phone a little. I allowed it. About an hour later, I decided to leave and head home. Another day I visited, he walked past and greeted me. Then another staff member came over, tapped me, and said: “If he ever asks to use your charger again, don’t give it to him.” Apparently, he had complained that I left too soon the other day after he started charging, and that I should have waited, since he had no charger of his own and needed it. That was the last day I set foot in that lounge. I don’t care who is looking out for me. I simply don’t like that kind of environment.