As she walked down the ramp into the back of the car show room, she could see 3 sleazy looking guys arguing. One guy was particularly hot under the collar. They all turned to look at her.
Can I take a photo of the crates in your laneway, she piped, trying to sound like it was a completely normal request.
Sure, said balding ponytail.
The surprised look on their faces was difficult to interpret.
What do you want to do that for?,demanded hot head tersely.
I take photos of the street.
Why don’t you take a photo of him?, said balding ponytail and pointed to the third guy who looked the least threatening of all.
No thanks, I just want a picture of the crates, she replied.
You can take them away for all I care, barked hot head.
Thanks, but I just want a photo.
Hot head persisted:What do you want to do that for?
I’m an artist, she said. I photograph the city.
Well go and ask next door. The crates belong to them, snapped hot head.
Look, she responded in an exasperated tone. I don’t need your permission. I was just asking to be polite.
At that point third guy said: Sure, take as many pictures as you like.
Two minutes later, she heard a voice say:
Can I help you? Sure you don’t want to take our photo? Third guy was coming towards her up the ramp.
No thanks, I’ve finished now, she replied, the light was wrong and she decided it was time to leave.
Trying to keep things friendly she offered, I don’t take photos of people.
When she got to the corner of the street she could see the front of the building. It was a boy racer’s dream full of European sports cars, and in the window was an estate agent – FOR LEASE. West Melbourne
But this can happen when you don’t ask.
