The young guy who works there saunters over to my car window. He bends down.
“What can I do for you, Mate?”
“Do you sell ice?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says.
“Well, I’ll have two bags of ice, please.”
He looks at me, sweat brimming around his eyebgrows, “Sorry, Mate, we do have ice but it’s not frozen.”