It's not easy to run a little cornershop - ask anyone who's tried it, andthey'll tell you all about it. Iknow, I manage one. Let me give you
an example of a typical working day.Do I hear you say "That's boring"?Not likely. Just try this for size.
The shop opens from 7am until 10pm atnight, every day, seven days a week,all year round. There's no rest forthe wicked - just that I'd like theopportunity to be wicked once in awhile. :-)
There are ten members of staff - TheManager (me) Assistant Manager (whoknows almost as much as the manager,but not all) Three Supervisors (whoknow enough, but not everything) Fivecashiers or Sales Assistants as theyare properly known. We work on a rotabasis - I usually manage to get atleast one day off a week.
The manager opens the shop in themorning. They are usually the firstto arrive (not always, we are human,and can oversleep, just like anyoneelse!) :-) Followed by a salesassistant, who seem to be more human,and do oversleep. We open the shop,switch off the alarm and fetch themorning papers in. Easy? Not always
- this morning, the papers are lateand are not where they should be.Then we have to wrestle with the safe.This holds the keys to everything inthe shop; the tills, the secure roomwhere we keep the cigarettes andalcohol, the fire exit doors, theshutters which cover the windows atnight, the CCTV tapes, etc. In short,the keys to the business. Withoutthese we can't open and trade. Andthe safe is belligerent. This morningit doesn't want to open. It sitsthere, and sulks. We twiddle thecombination, we enter the sequence ofnumbers, wind it back to zero,and....... nothing. We try again,nothing. No click, not a sound. Itjust sits there like a brick, but moreso. Immovable, solid and closed. Wecurse, cagoule, kick it, and tryagain. Nothing.
We try nice words, soothing sounds andflattery, all to no avail. We havepeople rattling on the shop door,waiting for their papers, earlymorning cigarettes, a loaf of breadfor their little Johnny's pack up, andthe safe just sits there. I'm sure itlaughs! We apologise to the iratepeople and tell them that we areunable to help with whatever theywant, as we can't open up, because wehave an evil safe. They leave,grumbling - blaming US!
We go back to the safe, to try again.Now the paper delivery is at the door,and we have to stop and fetch it in.We have papers - but we still can'topen. The kettle is switched on andwe sneak up on the safe to take itunaware. It works! I've got thekeys. Now to open everything, and getto work. The bread delivery arrives -and duly off-loads. With a briefexchange about the weather, or thequeues on the motorway, or a joke heheard down the pub last night, he's onhis way to the next drop. We sort thebread onto the shelves. Twenty loavesof bread that no-one buys, (because itfeels like a brick when it's fresh andit has a three day sell-by date on itand it will feel more like lead whenit reaches that date), and seventeenthat everyone wants (because it's softand squashy, and lasts for about aweek), enough rolls to feed half thetown and three packs of teacakes.
Now we managed to get that cup of teawe put the kettle on for earlier,except we may not get a chance todrink it, because the milkman'sarrived and unloading 50 cartons ofmilk and 75 polybottles of the stuffwhich looks like milk, but tastes ofplastic, and usually leaks.Everywhere. Especially over me. Wehave no milk on the shelf, as it allwent before we closed the nightbefore, and we have five peoplewaiting for it in the shop. I openthe warehouse door, and five pairs ofhands grab a bottle - the same bottle- and a fight ensues, which ends inthe bottle launching itself into theair having freed itself from thehands, (don't ask me how, it allhappened so fast) free-falling ontothe floor, and exploding - all overme! Milk is dripping from my hair, Ican't see a thing through my glasses,except milk (oh, for windscreen wiperson specs), AND IT'S COLD!!! There'smilk on the ceiling and the floor andI've turned
white and very wet. Afterclearing the milk from my specs,there's not a customer in sight.They've all had a bottle of milk, paidfor it and left.
I'm still standing in shock, and milk,with an ever increasing white puddleat my feet. It was only two litres,but it goes a very long way - exceptwhen it's in YOUR fridge, and then itdoesn't! Two bowls of cereal, sixcups of tea - and it's gone. On ashop floor it's a lake. It laps up tothe biscuit shelves, around to thewashing powder, under the freezer, outthe other side, skirts the Coke standand reaches out for the beer, like analcoholic. Abandon milk trolley andfetch mop and bucket. Try to ignorethe giggling cashier and the smartremarks from subsequent customers, andcontain the mess. It was two litreswhen it started, the mop bucket brimswhen I've finished, and it's not whiteanymore. Now I can dry off, and putthe milk on the chiller shelf where itshould be. My clothes dry stiff andsmell unpleasant, and I can't go hometo change - a pleasant start to theday - NOT. Nothing else can go wrong,can it?
Wrong. The cashier changes shift,(they only work four hours - luckythem - I'm here for at least 10hours). They exchange the story ofthe milk and the safe, more giggling,and the new one waits for the nextepisode. It can't be long, can it?They're right, of course. The groceryorder arrives and it's time to fillthe empty spaces in the shop. Thefirst load goes out without mishap.But.... I'm filling the beer chillerwith beer cans and they fall over.They don't like that and pop open,spraying their contents over thechiller door, shelves and bottom....and me! I've now had a beer rinsethrough my hair, so I smell like abrewery too. Hello, mop-bucket, myold friend!
Do I get sympathy? No. After a quickwash, I relieve the cashier, who can'tserve for laughing, so she can calmdown. After half an hour, she comesback to the till, after having hadlunch, a cigarette, two cups ofcoffee, another cigarette, a natter toa few customers, who no doubt havebeen enlightened about the milk andthe beer and the difficult safe. Igive the safe a kick when I get backinto the office, to clear the smirkwhich I'm sure it's got. It sits andsulks again when I need to get in todo the banking. Securicor are at thedoor, waiting to collect the previousdays takings, which I've not hadchance to sort out. Will the safeopen? Not a chance. While they waitfor me, they chat to the cashier...
I'm sure he stifled a laugh when Igave him the cash bag. The nextcashier and the afternoon supervisorarrive and the stories are exchanged.I do get some sympathy from thesupervisor, and I have some for her,too. The next cashier is blonde,young, and thinks she knowseverything. She's updated on the newstock we've had in - disposablebarbecues. These things are thelatest in the company line - aluminiumtrays filled with charcoal with addedlighter fuel. Remove lid, throw inmatch and, hey presto, you're ready tostart cooking. Except about an hourlater, I hear her explaining to acustomer that they are, in fact,INDOOR barbecues. My eyebrowsdisappear into hair more like straw(from the effects of milk and beer),and I'm totally speechless. Luckily,the supervisor knows too well thecashier's brainless ideas, and calmlyinforms the customer that somehowthere has been a slightmisundersta
nding, and are for outdooruse - ONLY.
I'm imagining the evening papers withthe headline - House Barbecue CausesStreet Blaze. It's not certain howmany other people have left with thesame information, so we have to takethem off sale. Just in case. I graba sandwich to eat while I'm completingthe paperwork for the day, andentering information onto the computer- no lunch break here for me.
But I can never eat a whole sandwichwithout interruption - I am summonedto sort out complaints from customers,ranging from being short-changed,over-charged, buying the wrong item,exchanging faulty or damaged goods,and things like that. After eating, Idecide that enough misfortune hashappened, and nothing else can gowrong. I decide to make a display bythe till of boxes of chocolate,hopefully to encourage sales. Afterhalf an hour's work, it looksattractive, and the staff agree.Also, the boxes are less likely to bestolen by the local shopliftingbrigade as they are in full view ofstaff and customers. Good idea, isthe general view. Not a good idea asit turned out. No, they didn't getstolen. Fate had a totally differentidea than that!
Sitting down, during my last hour ofmy shift, drinking a well earned cupof coffee, trying to ignore theincreasing smell of somethingreminiscent of a cow in a brewery, Ihear a crash in the shop. A distinctsound of breaking glass. A quickglance at the CCTV confirms this. Idash out onto the shop floor and uptowards the till, narrowly missingcolliding with the supervisor, movingequally fast towards the storeroom.In the middle of a growing puddle ofsherry, and shards of green glass, isan elderly gentleman, who, having justpurchased his customary tipple of theshop's own brand of cream sherry, hadmissed his pocket and deposited thebottle on the floor - liberallyshowering my latest display ofchocolates with the sherry.
The cashier offered him a replacementbottle, and his neighbour rushed in,guided him quickly out of the store,explaining that it wasn't his turn tobuy the sherry, it was her turn, justas the supervisor returned with theever faithful mop-bucket! Stunned, Ifetched the waste-book, and a trolley,recorded the loss of a £2.99 bottle ofcream sherry, and £92.46 of sherrysodden boxes of chocolate, which weretransported into the stockroom. I wasdefinitely ready to go home, now, butI have to report a large stock loss toHead Office. Phone in hand, I explainthe incidents of the day to some-one Ihave never met and report stock lossesdue to unforeseen events beyond mycontrol.
I don't think she believed me.Eventually, I am advised to dry outthe chocolates - hopefully, it's justthe boxes which are wet, clean them upas much as possible, reduce reallydamaged boxes by 50p or charge extraand call them Special Liqueurchocolates - and then to go home,clean up and file a report by the endof the week. I've been at work for 12hours by the time I finish the phonecall. The bit about "go home andclean up" sounded very good - so I didjust that.
Never has a bath sounded so inviting.After the bath, and a meal, I'm readyfor bed, so I can be up at the crackof dawn the next day to start all overagain. So, next time you are in yourlocal corner shop, and the item youwant isn't in stock, and the managerlooks harassed - stop and think - youcould be in my store and it could beme. Why do I do it, do I hear youask? The answer is simple - strangethough it may seem, I enjoy it - younever know what the day will bring,good or bad, and I do get a laugh outof it - and now, so do you.
