I was standing near the reception desk at my local library in London when a tall thin man in his 30s trotted up to the librarian in a state of great agitation.
“You’ll be wanting to know that one of your customers back there has a cold,” he said, his head jerking towards the window to the right.
“Oh right,” she replied instantly, “I’ll take care of that. Thanks.”
“He’s a big guy too,” said the tall thin man, “I’m off to wash my hands.”
“Yes, absolutely,” the librarian responded.
I stared at her.
“What are you planning to do about the guy with a cold, ‘K’,” I asked curiously.
‘K’ is a friend so I could afford to be frank with her.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “not had that happen to me yet.”
“But didn’t you say you’d take care of it?” I reminded her. “What did you mean?”
“Oh, just that I’d ask my manager. I’ve no idea what we can do.”
I fought back the urge to cough. “It’s like having a cold is an offence nowadays.”
“Evidently,” said ‘K’.