I'll leave you with a story…

There was this man who sold air-conditioning units. He was the best salesman his company had; he took great pride in his work and loved to make a sale.
Then one day he was sent by the MD of his company "Airtech UK" to a conference in Cornwall. It was a long drive from his office near Colchester but it was an exciting opportunity for the company. Major suppliers such as B&Q were to be at this conference, and with a hot summer predicted, now was the time to get Airtech's air-conditioning units on sale to the masses.
The salesman knew his product well, and had thoroughly prepared his presentation. He was confident that he would make a major sale, and felt pride coursing through his body that the company had sent HIM to this conference.
He eventually reached Cornwall and found where his conference was to be held. It was in a large faceless hotel just outside a small nondescript village, where he would also be spending the night.
He booked into the hotel, got changed for dinner and went downstairs. He was surprised to see that only one or two people had arrived for the conference, and that all the big-players were to be arriving in the morning. This was a shame as the salesman had wanted to put in some groundwork and score some early points with the right people.
Returning to his room, he fiddled with the TV idly. He was bored, it was warm and this hotel didn't even have air-conditioning. He laughed to himself at this, and noted how he'd tell the important people how amusing this was in the morning. Right now though he needed a drink.
He went downstairs to the hotel bar and was surprised to see it empty. The barman stood behind the bar and idly cleaned some glasses.
'Excuse me', said the salesman, 'could I have a pint of lager please?'
The barman shook his head.
'I'm sorry sir, I can't serve you alcohol today', he replied.
'Why not?' asked the salesman, checking his watch to see what time it was.
'I can't serve anyone alcohol on Tuesday nights sir, if I do the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
The salesman sat staring at the barman, waiting for a laugh to sneak across his lips, to show he was joking. No laugh arrived.
'What?'
'The Ooglie Booglies sir. If I serve you today, the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
'Look', said the salesman blushing with rising anger, 'just give me a pint of lager and stop messing around. I'm tired and don't need this today.'
'I'm sorry sir', said the barman shaking his head, 'rules are rules. I can't serve you on Tuesdays.'
The salesman got up, swore and marched off back to his room.
As he lay on his bed, sweltering in the heat, it no longer seemed as funny that the hotel for an air-conditioning conference didn't have any air-conditioning.
After about 20 minutes of this, the salesman grabbed his wallet and took the short walk into the village near the hotel. He saw a bar and walked in. Again, he noted that it was surprisingly empty. Still, he walked up to the bar and asked the barmaid for a pint of lager.
'I'm sorry sir', she said, 'but I can't serve you alcohol today. If I do then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
'For fucks sake', shouted the salesman, 'is this some sort of joke? Do you not like outsiders round here or something? Stop messing me around and give me a pint of lager.'
'I'm sorry sir', said the barmaid, 'there is no need to talk to me like that. It's for your own good, I don't want the Ooglie Booglies to get you.'
The salesman grabbed his light summer coat and stormed out. He looked on the street for hidden cameras and to see if anyone was laughing at him, but all was quiet. He marched further into town, passed a pub which seemed empty, and pressed on. Eventually, down an alleyway and up a slight hill, he found a pub that was packed. The whole village seemed to be here, and he could hear music and laughing from within. Smiling, the salesman entered and walked up to the bar.
'I'd like a pint of lager please' he said.
Even though he'd barely heard himself speak above the noise in the packed pub, the place fell dramatically silent as soon as he'd finished the sentence. The salesman turned to look at all the faces staring back at him. He felt scared, what had he done?
'I'm sorry,' said the landlord from behind, 'I can't serve you alcohol on Tuesdays. If I do then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
Even though he was scared, the salesman felt anger rising and turned to face the landlord.
'Look, stop messing me around,' he said, almost shouting, 'Okay, I'm not from round here, but I have valid money and I just want a drink. I'm one of the best air-conditioning salesman in the country, and all I want is a pint of lager. Please, I beg you, stop this nonsense about Ooglie Booglies and let me have a pint of lager. Please?'
As he finished, the barman was already shaking his head.
'I'm sorry my friend, but if I serve you then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
Most people would have given up by now and headed back defeated to their hotel, but the salesman was made of sterner stuff. He'd never let anyone beat him before, and he wasn't starting now with some villagers who hated city-folk. Storming past the staring eyes of the whole pub, he pushed himself outside. He stormed down street after street, until he found another bar. He went inside.
'Pint of lager please', he said almost shouting.
'I'm sorry, I can't serve you' said the old man behind the bar, 'if I do then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
Still, he wasn't going to give up. Whilst looking for another pub he saw a newsagent. He wandered inside and saw that the owner had cans of lager behind him.
'Excuse me,' said the salesman, 'I'd like to buy four cans of lager please.'
'I'm sorry, ' said the newsagent, 'but I can't serve you today. If I did then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
The salesman asked again.
'I'm sorry, the Ooglie Booglies would get you' was his reply.
'Look', said the salesman, 'I'll pay you fifty pounds for the four cans. Fifty pounds!'
He thought he saw the newsagent consider this for a brief second, but he got the same reply, 'I'm sorry, the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
He walked out; he would not be beaten. But the newsagent had given him an idea. After about half-an-hour he found another pub, 'The Drunk Duck'. It looked old and again was fairly empty inside. The saleman looked around and saw that the few people inside were just drinking what looked like soft-drinks. He thought back, and couldn't remember seeing anyone drinking alcoholic drinks in any of the places he'd tried. Still, he didn't see why he had to obey the stupid customs of any backward village. He approached the bar.
'Excuse me, could I have a pint of lager please?'
'I'm sorry', came the familiar reply, 'but if I serve you then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
'What if I give you fifty pounds for that pint?'
'I'm sorry', said the barman, 'but if I serve you then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
'There is no such thing as Ooglie Booglies!' shouted the salesman, 'give me a pint of fucking lager.'
The barman didn't reply, taken aback at this outburst.
'Look, a hundred fucking pounds. I'll give you a hundred pounds!' shouted the salesman.
'I'm sorry,' said the barman, 'If I serve you alcohol on Tuesdays then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
The salesman again left. He felt defeated. This little village had defeated him, like not even Brian Williams of "Aircon 2000" had ever managed. He trudged slowly back to his hotel, tears filling his eyes. He walked past some of the places he'd already tried, and paused outside the one pub he'd earlier ignored. He peered in the windows and saw a barmaid staring into space. The place was completely empty. Could he pull himself together and try again? Was he a quitter? No, he hadn't quit when Brian Williams had undercut him on the Homebase contract. He'd brought that baby home. He was the best! The best!
He marched into the pub and asked for a pint of lager, defiantly planting himself at the bar.
'I'm sorry sir,' said the young barmaid, 'but if I serve you then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
The salesman remained calm.
'Please can I have a pint of lager?' he repeated.
The barmaid coughed nervously, and repeated in her faint Australian accent, 'If I serve you then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.'
'Look,' said the salesman, 'do you know what the Ooglie Booglies are?'
'No,' said the girl, 'I'm new round here, but I've had orders from the landlord not to sell anybody alcohol on Tuesdays, otherwise the Ooglie Booglies will get them.'
'I'm a grown man, dear' said the salesman, ' and I can make my own decisions. Please can I have a pint of lager?'
'I'm sorry,' said the barmaid, 'If I serve you then the Ooglie Booglies will get you.
The salesman calmly opened his wallet and pulled out all the cash he had. He slowly counted it.
'There is 170 pounds here,' he said placing the notes on the table, 'I will pay you this for a pint of lager.'
'If I..' started the barmaid.
'Shush' interrupted the salesman. He patted the money and pushed it towards the barmaid.
The barmaid slowly picked up the money, blushed and put it into her pocket. She grabbed a pint glass and poured a pint of lager.
It looked to the salesman like the best thing he'd ever seen. He picked it up, stared at it and then downed it in one. It tasted like it was worth every penny of the 170 pounds he'd paid.
He stood to his feet and bowed towards the barmaid. He felt on top of the world. He, like always, had emerged victorious and had finally got just what he wanted. Bidding farewell to the barmaid, he walked smiling into the street.
And the Ooglie Booglies got him.