Writing for Fun
March 2017
More Than My Job's Worth - Pete Norman
Raymond was having a bad day. It might be relatively quiet, which was a blessing, but as the day went on he was becoming more and more convinced that the South Yorkshire Awkward Customers Society must be holding a convention today – and in his store – and he was here all alone to deal with it.
Simon was off sick. Nigel says that he must have a little black book of symptoms, because every time something goes round the town Simon seems to get it in spades.
Victoria was on honeymoon in Marbella. Nigel says that she is probably drinking her body weight in Margaritas and getting her white bits brown.
Eric, the Security guard, has taken a day off to watch his daughter’s school play. Nigel says he usually only gets visitation rights on Saturdays, so this had to be something he definitely could not miss out on.
Sean, the manager and Tracy, his assistant were both off at the same time with flu. Nigel says that’s hardly surprising because they’ve got their own personal fast track route for germs – they swap spit every afternoon in Sean’s office behind the opaque glass when they are supposed to be having a Senior Management meeting . . . but why, he wonders, does the door always have to be locked?
And Nigel himself? Well, Nigel is at lunch. He is in the cafeteria at Morrisons having burger and chips with Sonia from ASDA Home – a blond kid with more in her T-shirt than she has got in her brain. Nigel, of course, would never say that – Nigel says that she’s the dog’s . . . that she’s the bee’s knees.
And so, right now, Raymond was on his own at the till and standing in front of him was a most formidable lady. He drew in a deep breath and looked the lady in the eye.
‘I am sorry, madam, but this item has been discontinued.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, young man! It can’t be discontinued, Frankie’s best friend William has got one and Charlie he sits next to at school has got one and even the little refugee kid that’s only just started and can hardly speak English – even he’s got one.’
‘Yes I am sure they have, madam, but I am afraid that since they purchased theirs this item has been discontinued. We no longer stock it.’ He turned the computer screen half round to face her, it clearly showed the product in question with the word ‘DISCONTINUED’ beside it in large red letters.
‘But you might still have one out the back.’
‘I am truly sorry but when a line is discontinued it is company policy to send all of our remaining stock back to the warehouse.’
‘But you might at least have a look.’
‘Madam, we-do-not-keep-discontinued-stock.’
She bristled. ‘Well, what have they got to replace it then?’
Raymond ran his fingers over the keyboard. The screen now displayed Action Man, magnificent in his camouflaged khaki battledress bristling with weapons of every kind, driving a large green vehicle.
‘How is this supposed to be a replacement, eh? The other one’s got a, it’s got a . . .’ She tugged a post-it note from her pocket. ‘Armoured-Personnel-Carrier. This one’s just got a silly little Jeep.’
Raymond sighed. ‘Madam, this is not a Jeep it is a . . .’ He read the words directly off the screen, ‘Super Stealth Humvee Special Forces Reconnaissance Vehicle.’
‘It looks like a Jeep to me.’
The man in the queue behind the lady leaned forwards. ‘If it helps, I think I saw the one you’re looking for in Toys R Us in Barnsley just a couple of days ago.’
The lady spun around. Her face lit up. ‘That’s wonderful, thank you so much.’ She turned back to confront Raymond. ‘I should have gone there first. This place is rubbish!’
As she flounced off the man’s face was completely deadpan but as she passed through the exit doors and out of sight it broadened into a wicked grin. Raymond quickly guessed the reason for his amusement and had to physically stop himself from responding. It was company policy that the customer is always right – they are usually stupid, of course – but they are ‘always right’ and it would be disrespectful to denigrate one customer in front of another.
Edward looked at the youth with some respect. He had handled the situation very well, he had shown persistence and patience and now he was exercising restraint – well done to the kid.
‘And what can I do for you, sir?’
Edward said, ‘I am looking for the Lego Mindstorms EV3 Robot.’
The youth pointed up the aisle directly opposite the till. ‘It should be up there, sir, all of our Lego products are on the right hand side about two thirds along.’
Edward thanked him and wandered off up the aisle. It was always best practice to ask the staff, they were the experts – he had very little time to waste trawling endlessly through a store as large as this.
He found the Lego easily and began to search but when he got to the end of the display he had not found the robot. He retraced his steps looking instead at the shelf edge labels and to his horror he found a large gap on the shelf and beneath it was the label he had been searching for.
He rushed back to the till. ‘Sorry, I’ve found exactly where it’s supposed to be, but there are none on the shelf. There’s just this huge gap.’
The youth tapped the details into the computer. ‘I am afraid we have sold out, sir. We are probably getting another delivery in on Monday. I could have one put one by for you if you wish.’
‘But Monday’s too late! It’s my son’s birthday on Sunday. I’ve tried everywhere but they all seem to have sold out.’ Edward let out a gasp of frustration. He threw up his hands. ‘I’m desperate.’
He remembered the earlier conversation with the lady and grimaced as he said the words, knowing exactly what the answer would be. ‘I don’t suppose you might have one out the back?’
‘I really am sorry, sir, but these items are far too expensive to hold in the warehouse. What we have in stock is always on display.’ In an effort to render the situation completely unambiguous the youth added, ‘If it is not on the shelf then we do not have it.’
Edward hung his head in defeat. He had searched every store for miles around and he had just about reached the end of the line. He knew that Robert had set his heart on this damned robot and now it has turned out that he has let his son down. He knew perfectly well that he should have sorted this out long before now, but he had been too busy at work – as usual – and now he was going to pay the price for his indolence.
However, he rallied bravely, he might have suffered a serious setback but he was not yet defeated. ‘Damage limitation,’ he said to the youth. ‘I’ll see if I can find something else. I simply don’t have any choice now.’
He wandered back up the Lego aisle and began to pull out boxes at random, examining them and then shoving them roughly back time and time again but it was painfully obvious that nothing else would do. It simply had to be the robot. He stood back and stared at the display as a whole for inspiration. He allowed his eye to float along each row in turn until he had worked his way up to the highest shelf.
He stopped dead. His heart was pounding. There on the very top of the shelving, far out of reach, stood a single, solitary large box and on it was written in large bold letters: LEGO MINDSTORMS EV3 ROBOT. He could not believe his luck.
A few feet away was a large and battered steel ladder on wheels but there was a chain across the bottom to deter customers from climbing it themselves. He could understand the reason so he made no attempt to make use of it himself.
He rushed back to the till, his face flushed with excitement. ‘I’ve found one! Can you believe it? It’s right up there on the top of the display. Can I get it down, please?’
The youth peered down the aisle and could see the box but he shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir, but I cannot allow you to do that. Only staff are allowed to use the ladders – it’s health and safety, I’m afraid.’
‘But you could get it down for me.’
‘I am sorry but I cannot leave the till unattended.’
‘Well, can you get someone else to do it?’
The youth appeared to be struggling to find the right words, he appeared to have been backed into a corner from which the only path out was painful.
‘Er . . . there is no-one else.’
‘What?’ Edward was in retail himself and as he looked around the massive store he tried to come to terms with the enormity of the comment. He felt so sorry for the kid, he was clearly having a bad day and doing his very best but there, a few tantalising feet away, was the bloody Lego Mindstorms EV3 Robot and it was his for the taking and he would have it.
‘But it would only take a few seconds. What about if I stand by the till for you.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but it’s more than . . .’
Edward finished the sentence for him, ‘More than your job’s worth, yes, I know, I know, but we have-to-get-it-down.’
The youth gave him a sympathetic look and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. It was a stalemate. The youth was not going to budge.
Edward sighed and turned back to the Lego aisle, his shoulders hunched in defeat. He hoped that it looked suitably authentic. As he passed the battered steel ladder he took a firm grip and tugged it along the aisle behind him. The anguished cry of the youth was almost drowned out by the deafening scream from the wheels, ‘You can’t do that . . . I’ll call Security!’
Edward spun around with a gleeful expression on his face. ‘We both know that there is no Security.’ He hit the brake with his heel and dragged the ladders with silent ease up to the Lego section, scaled them two at a time and grabbed the precious box. The youth was frozen to the spot behind his till. He had run completely out of options.
Edward placed the box on the counter and slipped his Platinum Card on top. He smiled and folded his arms.
To his surprise the youth still had some fight left in him. ‘You had no authority to do that, sir. I must ask you to leave.’
‘I’m going nowhere without the damned robot.’ He reached over and pulled the bar-code scanner across the counter. He pointed it at the box. There was a faint ‘ping’.
He slipped his card into the card reader and waited. The youth was staring at him in a state of almost catatonic shock. ‘It’s more than . . .’
Edward held up his hand. ‘Tell me . . .’ He read the youth’s name tag, ‘Raymond, exactly how much is your job worth, eh? Let me hazard a guess . . . shall we say minimum wage or very close to it? Very few rights or perks until you have completed your first five years? In fact your job’s not worth very much at all, is it?’
The youth’s expression showed not a hint of denial.
Edward pulled a business card from his pocket and held it up for the youth to read. Underneath the name of a prestigious furniture chain was the name Edward Cummings C.E.O.
He turned the card over and wrote the name ‘Jeremy’ on the back, then he pressed the card into the youth’s hand.
‘When you can finally prize yourself free from this till, walk a few hundred yards down the road to my store and present this card to Jeremy. Tell him I think you are perfect for the job and that the job will be worth . . .’ and then he added a very large number to the card.
In a trance the youth pressed the key on the computer and a receipt whirred out of the machine.
Edward took the receipt and tucked the box under his arm. ‘You see, we got there in the end, didn’t we? Hope to see you on Monday morning.’
As the man left the store Nigel was walking through the entrance. ‘Cor, he must be a rich git – those things are bloody expensive!’
Raymond was unable to answer for a moment but when he finally found his voice he said, ‘Can you man the till for me? I have to pop out for a few minutes.’