Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Whoops. Came home from work, decided to watch a bit of the Mighty Boosh, and whoosh, straight into sleepy land lying on my beanbag. So now it's 1am and I'm wide awake like Timmy Mallet on speed. Not good...
So while I'm here, I might as well tell you a story. On my way back from work, I had a pining for a magazine. In this case it was for a football mag, When Saturday Comes, what with the world cup coming, but it could just as easily been for a music magazine, or some lifestyle offering, or a paper, perhaps even something geeky, to go with my new logo at the top there. I love magazines. They're great. And my love affair started when I used to work in a Newsagents while I was still at school.
But it wasn't just a love for the press that I developed there. Oh no. It also spawned my complete contempt for the general public.
Oh yes. Because for some reason people think that if you work in the local newsie, you must therefore be some lower form of life to be openly mocked and bullied. This is something I have never forgotten. And why I am always charming and polite to anyone working in a shop. Cos I still remember the people who were nice, nearly a decade later. The horrid people sort of blur into one horrible rude beastie with horns and stuff. Yuck. Oh, and I also remember the people who'd sneak in and buy porn, real subtle like. Bless 'em.
So, anyway, the moral of my story is be nice to people in shops. They're most probably on minimum wage (I was pulling in the princely sum of £2.55 an hour. One at a time, girls) and would almost certainly rather be anywhere else in the whole world. There are few things more depressing than being slumped over the til in smalltown Britain during the Saturday afternoon lull (usually between 2pm and closing at 6:30pm. That's a big lull). But equally, few things more rewarding than pulling down the shutters, kicking out the last remaining idiots desperate for a stamp at 6:31pm and collecting your pay packet.
Then handing it all straight back over the counter to pay for all the magazines, chocolate, coke, crisps, sweets and gallons of slush puppies you've managed to consume over the previous ten hours. (During one legendary week, I actually managed to be out of pocket! How brilliant is that? My manager was crying with laughter. I'd have been better off ringing in sick.) But more than that, I earnt something far more valuable: experience. And the desire to keep as far away from the general public as is humanly possible.
|All opinions expressed within the pages and comments of this blog are solely those of the author, and not of his employers or associates. If you have any complaints, corrections or queries regarding any of the material contained within, please contact the author via email. Thanks for reading!