We took my husband’s colleague for a walk around Baku yesterday. On the boulevard we noticed a bright yellow booth in the shape of an orange selling fresh juices. The list on the counter showed selection of eight juices including orange juice.
“Can I have a glass of orange juice, please,” I addressed the cheerfully dressed in yellow seller.
“No”, he grumbled in response in a sharp contrast with his optimistically coloured booth.
“You don't want to serve us or you are out of oranges?” I tried to cheer him up.
“No have”, he shrugged impatiently and slammed a glass of apple juice in front of us. My husband’s colleague, being the thirstiest of us all, took it.
“I want one, I want one, “cried my younger son.
Pete took one sip and replied “Oh no, you really don’t.”
My theory is that the seller of the cheerful booth was grumpy because he knew that apple juice wasn’t good and it sucked to sell something so unappetizing. On the other hand, he might simply have had a bad day.
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