Every day at around 3PM the same big white truck rumbles down Northbourne Avenue beneath my window. It's a Target truck, carrying lots of lurid polyester and dodgy soft furnishings, I'd imagine. It has that annoying big red target symbol on it, except this one is a variation on the theme, it's a big smiley face and there's huge text screaming down the length of the truck: TARGET. WE'RE NOT HAPPY UNLESS YOU ARE.
Without fail, every 3PM-ish, it whizzes by (I tried to take a photo of it but it turned out a blur, much like my portrait of Alex Popov). I have theories about this recurring truck. Remember in The Truman Show, when Truman notices that the scenery is looping behind him? Perhaps I am living on a giant sound stage! Now wouldn't you tune in to The Shauny Show? Perhaps you are already? I just flashed my boobs at you, did you enjoy that?
Or perhaps Target is in cahoots with my company, and they drive that truck past my window just to remind me to be happy and work hard like a good little prole. Well okay, I'll be happy. Because as the truck has pointed out to me, unless I'm happy, a multi-national retail chain won't be happy. In turn the shareholders will be displeased, the management will become disgruntled, then the checkout chick with the greasy hair and attitude with be churlish, and eventually the innocent little customer will be unhappy, and that big red target symbol on the truck will turn into a frown.
So I'll smile today. I couldn't bear the guilt of triggering all that unhappiness.