I love my job…No, don’t insert “sarcasm” inverted commas there, I really do. I also wish to keep it and avoid the blog-themed fiasco of last time I let “work” and “blog” meet (think rubidium in a thunderstorm and you’ll be about right), so I thought I’d take a comic look at some of the things that make Generic Shop such a great place to work. Oh, and because I’m feeling anal, I’m going to do it in a list style:
Meeting people.
All the time. Incessantly. That’ll be £2.50… is it raining? I hadn’t noticed, and no, the twelve people before you didn’t say the same thing… They thought it was effing sunny!
Meeting interesting people.
Technically a subcategory of the above, there are several subcategories here: the odd, the weird, the mad and the casually racist. For example, an elderly gentleman smelling of urine opined to me, whilst counting out two pence pieces exceptionally slowly to the sum of about £4.56 that this recession was pretty damn bad, wasn’t it? I returned my agreement.
He continued that there weren’t any jobs. I confirmed that this was an unfortunate side-effect of the current economic slump (he was at roughly the £2 mark now and had uncovered a £2 coin so I hoped this might be the end of our exchange). However, resorting to his limitless collection of (alarmingly sticky) 5ps, he told me that his son had been laid off from the factory (I didn’t enquire which). I offered the due condolences (and considered offering said son my job). He then continued, without a blink or a pause for breath, that there were Polish and black people with jobs and it made him sick…
I paused. Having assisted him with the counting I’d secured the £2 coin and so now only had to make up the fiddly pence. I gave him the special “I work here so can’t disagree openly with you you racist scum” look of doubt and said noncommitantly that it was certainly true that some people had jobs when others didn’t. With his £4.56 in my hands I thought this exchange was over and I could go back to being sardonic about the weather… But no, where’s the sodding queue when you need one?
He continued in a mildly racist tone — opining that his Polish neighbours had a job and they’d only been here for five years, and reiterated that both his son (and brother it now seemed) were without work. At points like this, I wish the Panic alarm under the till had a second ”rescue from nutjob customer” alarm. Finally, my boss emerged with some task or other for me and I disengaged from racist-wee man, only for him to turn around and interupt my boss and begin the whole sorry story again. I slunk gratefully away and hid in the back…
Actually, discussing the weather is quite pleasant.
Occasional Devastatingly Pretty Men
Oh, and the 97.4% of unattractive types that make up the rest of the population. Most unfair.
Cryptic instructions on pieces of paper:
Personal favourite from a friend in a similar business being a cryptic note from the owner when out for the afternoon saying “don’t forget to stack the shelves.” Also entertaining is the archaeological treasure trove of the stockroom where pens and lists of stock needed at some previous juncture can accumulate.
Tills:
You think an electro-mechanical system for the taking and giving of money is unentertaining? Think again. Try a till which has an incomplete barcode database (and a list of non-scanning items as long as your arm stabled to it) and manufacturers of certain (confectionary) products who see fit to print barcodes either incomplete/missing completely or over the top of other text.
Being able to say “next please” and everyone around you move:
Usually.
All views included in the above are entirely personal and do not in any respect reflect the opinions I hold whilst at work (and being paid!) or those of my Employer or any other affiliated or interested party. Direct any comments/additions/complaints to the comments section below.
