We are living in fear of the M&S mystery customer after failing a
question on both our first two visits. Had the customers asked the
actual questions they were supposed to, we may have had a chance! The
first one fell to me, an elderly lady asking for guacamole, which I
showed her.....NOT according to the form where I'd apparently NOT
explained which ham was in the deli deal!
Liam had the pleasure of the second one when, too his shame, he failed
to explain or upsell a promo deal that hadn't started yet! His psychic
powers once again letting him down.
Since this we have all been on tenterhooks every time a customer asks
for help to the point of getting annoying with our OTT customer service,
being as both the first 2 customers were elderly ladies we are targeting
geriatric customers, if they look confused all the better .... Liams
even offered to do their ironing.......but the thing is, now when a
customer interaction where I've been expressly helpful DOESN'T turn out
to be the M&S mystery shopper I feel cheated and cheap!
We had 3x 5 litre screenwashes out back so with 2 in one hand one in the
other I carried them out to the bunker, at the door I had to side step a
gentleman who upon seeing my hand full remarked in a very camp way,
“mmmm strong fingers” ! I believe myself to have gone beetroot red at
this stage and could think of absolutely nothing to say in response. I
only hope he wasn't the m&s mystery customer.
In the weird and wonderful world of bp S&V actions reveals that the
corkscrews allocated to M&S stores are in fact classed as, 'potential
offensive weapons'. I see this completely and imagine there are many
many admissions to A&E daily whereby the patient has had the top of his
head screwed off in an act of street brutality. “stand still you *******
I'm gonna unscrew your ********** head”
On opening up my most recent breakfast sausage muffin for purposes of
saucing, I discovered instead of the usual 4 halves spread sadly across
the muffin I in fact had 5! An extra for which I was not charged and,
fearing disciplinary action I promptly discarded the extra half. T'would
have been far too sausagey anyway.
I now worry however that some muffin customer somewhere will receive a
muffin with half a sausage short and unless they use at least 4 packets
of sauce the extra dryness of the muffin will seal their mouths shut for
several agonising minutes. At least they wont be in a position to
complain....
Imagine the casualty depts surprise if they get an unscrewed head
followed by a muffin glued mouth?
I Dream Again
There are many many people who believe there is hidden meaning in our dreams. A whole industry of books and magazines has built up around this supposed
phenomena. The strangest of your dreams can be explained by dream
experts to mean something completely different than the apparent theme.
Even the falling dream has an explanation although for the life of me i
can't remember what that might be.
Well anyway, after a dream I had, one I actually remembered when awake, I want to buy into all this tosh and have it explained because it sure as hell confused me.
Now this is 100% an actual dream and I can only wonder at its meaning...
Basically I get a job in a big house as an older woman's odd job guy, strange in itself as I have the odd job capabilities of your average mollusc. Now the lady in question is clearly an older woman but an attractive one and a feel of the dream is that this could be one of those dreams ....which, ahem, I have no difficulty understanding at all.... that make perfect sense, but as it transpires, it isn't and certainly doesn't.make any sense that is, what does transpire with an undercurrent of sexual chemistry, is that our lusty heroine asks me to mow the lawn, which of course as odd job man I am happy to do, she takes me to a shed, points out the sit on mower and leaves me to it. 5 minutes later I'm mowing the lawn sat on said mower which is, in fact, a like a small but perfectly formed..... boat! I kid you not, I spend a seeming eternity mowing the lawn in a bloody boat! Like Popeye the odd job man toot toot. So, dream readers, what does that mean then please? Am I perhaps suppressing a deep desire to sail the ocean waves or is that too literal?
Well anyway, after a dream I had, one I actually remembered when awake, I want to buy into all this tosh and have it explained because it sure as hell confused me.
Now this is 100% an actual dream and I can only wonder at its meaning...
Basically I get a job in a big house as an older woman's odd job guy, strange in itself as I have the odd job capabilities of your average mollusc. Now the lady in question is clearly an older woman but an attractive one and a feel of the dream is that this could be one of those dreams ....which, ahem, I have no difficulty understanding at all.... that make perfect sense, but as it transpires, it isn't and certainly doesn't.make any sense that is, what does transpire with an undercurrent of sexual chemistry, is that our lusty heroine asks me to mow the lawn, which of course as odd job man I am happy to do, she takes me to a shed, points out the sit on mower and leaves me to it. 5 minutes later I'm mowing the lawn sat on said mower which is, in fact, a like a small but perfectly formed..... boat! I kid you not, I spend a seeming eternity mowing the lawn in a bloody boat! Like Popeye the odd job man toot toot. So, dream readers, what does that mean then please? Am I perhaps suppressing a deep desire to sail the ocean waves or is that too literal?
The Candidate
With the hole now plugged I, and my fellow territory hsse champions, may
withdraw our offer of a safety huddle.....'spillages safety alert
no33'.... I am still willing however to fly to the gulf coast for bird
sponging duties. I'm good with birds and have my own drum of citra clean
ready, I could get through a fair few seagulls and....ummm... sea
pigeons in no time at all.(Someone might have to point out the ones that
are supposed to be black to prevent unfortunate over scrubbing)
I'm also very friendly with many Americans....in spite of my bp connections, they still talk to me.... and would be able to spread the bp message, "whats wrong little people, whats your problem,? Its a big bloody ocean isn't it?, lets get this nonsense sorted pronto I need a day off to go sailing.....not in this ocean i might add!"
Obviously my services would cost money and, with compensation costs rising daily, I have a second, cheaper,solution. Boy scouts, girl guides, brownies and cubs! Schools out for 6 weeks and they must have had their fill of jumble sales and helping old ladies, how about an American adventure instead?! Seaside camping, wildlife and free oil for their lamps! Brilliant. Convince them there's a badge in it as well and we wouldn't have to fork out a penny.
After all this becomes old news and things settle down I'd imagine bp will be in need of a new leader. A statesman like figure, gifted orator and all round good egg would steady the ship and I have to say I have been preparing my CV. I appreciate store manager to executive director would be a giant leap but why not? I'm a skilled SOC conversationalist and long term bp apologist...."look I'm sorry about your pay rise, the uniform, cost of petrol etc etc"
I'm also very friendly with many Americans....in spite of my bp connections, they still talk to me.... and would be able to spread the bp message, "whats wrong little people, whats your problem,? Its a big bloody ocean isn't it?, lets get this nonsense sorted pronto I need a day off to go sailing.....not in this ocean i might add!"
Obviously my services would cost money and, with compensation costs rising daily, I have a second, cheaper,solution. Boy scouts, girl guides, brownies and cubs! Schools out for 6 weeks and they must have had their fill of jumble sales and helping old ladies, how about an American adventure instead?! Seaside camping, wildlife and free oil for their lamps! Brilliant. Convince them there's a badge in it as well and we wouldn't have to fork out a penny.
After all this becomes old news and things settle down I'd imagine bp will be in need of a new leader. A statesman like figure, gifted orator and all round good egg would steady the ship and I have to say I have been preparing my CV. I appreciate store manager to executive director would be a giant leap but why not? I'm a skilled SOC conversationalist and long term bp apologist...."look I'm sorry about your pay rise, the uniform, cost of petrol etc etc"
Bibbie And Mr's Warsop
Without explanation the planned turn of 2010 change to our new training
supplier didn't happen. I can reveal now that the delay occurred due to
Bibbie and Jake! The powers that be could not decide on names for our
new training characters and so shelved the changeover while urgent
naming committees were initiated and long hours of discussion and debate
ensued.
Anyway, now at last the names have been chosen and we are green for go! Hurrah for Jake n' Bibbie. It is believed 'Jake' took the longest to choose as, obviously, Bibbie is so universal.
As you will see from your postcards, and boy haven't we had a lot? Bibbie and Jake are animated avatar type characters....Those of you not in store have missed out on this treat, virtually every morning we get a wish you were here postcard from Bibbie and Jake, I don't know where here is exactly but they love it! The postcards are a series of scenarios played out by Bibbie and Jake whereby one or the other needs help with the new system.
What worries me about all this is, a) they both seem equally confused, one day Bibbie asks Jake a dopey question the next Jake has (apparently) forgotten everything and consults Bibbie! and b) I fear with some considerable dread that when our people go online to train, Bibbie and Jake will be animated characters there to assist them! These could get a little tiresome and I for one don't want to be explaining to new starters why one is called Bibbie!
If they were going for an animated/avatar kind of thing why didn't they get one of those suits that capture live movement by a real person who then gets 'animated' on screen, they could then have used Mr's Warsop and Mike Read as our new training characters. I'd have dialled in to see that alone!
I fully support the idea of an animated Mr's Warsop guiding us to a training utopia and will be utilising a suggestion box should the new web site have one. Just think, if it worked out we could roll with it and have animated store managers on conference calls! Brendan from Bedworth for example is a very physical communicator and this is lost on a conference call, mike o has to keep checking he is awake, with an animated Brendan this would be unnecessary as he would be able to jabber away complete with his usual array of hand movements! (For those of you who don't know Brendan imagine Buzz Lightyear doing Oragami without any actual paper)
Of course animation doesn't come cheap but computer animation is cheaper AND we could do it ourselves, as with anything computer related we'd just pass it to Calum! I'm willing to bet he already has an animated Dawn with which to navigate the Fourways back office system.
( those of you on other territories or departments will have your very own Calum from Fourways)
Anyway, now at last the names have been chosen and we are green for go! Hurrah for Jake n' Bibbie. It is believed 'Jake' took the longest to choose as, obviously, Bibbie is so universal.
As you will see from your postcards, and boy haven't we had a lot? Bibbie and Jake are animated avatar type characters....Those of you not in store have missed out on this treat, virtually every morning we get a wish you were here postcard from Bibbie and Jake, I don't know where here is exactly but they love it! The postcards are a series of scenarios played out by Bibbie and Jake whereby one or the other needs help with the new system.
What worries me about all this is, a) they both seem equally confused, one day Bibbie asks Jake a dopey question the next Jake has (apparently) forgotten everything and consults Bibbie! and b) I fear with some considerable dread that when our people go online to train, Bibbie and Jake will be animated characters there to assist them! These could get a little tiresome and I for one don't want to be explaining to new starters why one is called Bibbie!
If they were going for an animated/avatar kind of thing why didn't they get one of those suits that capture live movement by a real person who then gets 'animated' on screen, they could then have used Mr's Warsop and Mike Read as our new training characters. I'd have dialled in to see that alone!
I fully support the idea of an animated Mr's Warsop guiding us to a training utopia and will be utilising a suggestion box should the new web site have one. Just think, if it worked out we could roll with it and have animated store managers on conference calls! Brendan from Bedworth for example is a very physical communicator and this is lost on a conference call, mike o has to keep checking he is awake, with an animated Brendan this would be unnecessary as he would be able to jabber away complete with his usual array of hand movements! (For those of you who don't know Brendan imagine Buzz Lightyear doing Oragami without any actual paper)
Of course animation doesn't come cheap but computer animation is cheaper AND we could do it ourselves, as with anything computer related we'd just pass it to Calum! I'm willing to bet he already has an animated Dawn with which to navigate the Fourways back office system.
( those of you on other territories or departments will have your very own Calum from Fourways)
The World 'Online'
I'm worried about the online security of our Bunzl accounts....it
doesn't keep me awake at night but its a niggle none the less....My
worry is that our accounts could be compromised based on our, far from
secure, account details.
The account name being more or less the site number with the password being those reversed hardly seems fail proof to me.
Hackers abound on the internet many of them able to crack complex codes, I fear that Bunzls would be child's play and therefore our consumable supply network would be at the mercy of malicious miscreants. Fair enough they're usually interested in bigger game than jumbo toilet rolls and hot food bags but nonetheless we should be wary.
I envisage turning up to work to find a Bunzl delivery spilling back on to the forecourt with oodles of consumable stock over ordered to excess and barriers aplenty forming trip hazards to one and all.
What if said hackers go mad with my account and order several of everything that I don't need and wont run out of until 2014?...... Hang on a minute that's exactly what my management team order NOW.....o.k. panic over, the hackers couldn't possibly order worse!
Anybody need any suspension files? no? Forecourt towels? no? years supply of Jumbo, yet see through, toilet roll?
The account name being more or less the site number with the password being those reversed hardly seems fail proof to me.
Hackers abound on the internet many of them able to crack complex codes, I fear that Bunzls would be child's play and therefore our consumable supply network would be at the mercy of malicious miscreants. Fair enough they're usually interested in bigger game than jumbo toilet rolls and hot food bags but nonetheless we should be wary.
I envisage turning up to work to find a Bunzl delivery spilling back on to the forecourt with oodles of consumable stock over ordered to excess and barriers aplenty forming trip hazards to one and all.
What if said hackers go mad with my account and order several of everything that I don't need and wont run out of until 2014?...... Hang on a minute that's exactly what my management team order NOW.....o.k. panic over, the hackers couldn't possibly order worse!
Anybody need any suspension files? no? Forecourt towels? no? years supply of Jumbo, yet see through, toilet roll?
Roadkill
Slumped in front of the telly in that zombie like state familiar to any
4am riser, I happened to find myself watching River Cottage. For those
unfamiliar with the show, a chef called Hugh Fittingly Wittering (or
something like that ) takes on a cottage in the country where he lives
off the land raising his own animals and growing stuff, which he then
shows us how to cook in weird and wonderful ways.
I don't know why I was watching it exactly as I'm highly unlikely to raise my own pigs here in central Birmingham, I'm sure the neighbour would take issue with the noise for one thing, mind you bearing in mind she is known as the foghorn, perhaps she'd not even notice? Anyway those recipes are unlikely to get tried round our house but I could, I suppose, have a go at today's, which involved fresh roadkill.....
Roadkill he drove around until he FOUND, I should point out. I very much doubt channel 4 allow their presenters to be filmed hunting down a nice juicy pheasant in their 4x4s, although it would make for gripping tv! I hasten to add for those of you thinking the worst, when I say used, he didn't stir fry the roadkill or anything like that, marinading it fiorst in m&s sweet chilli, he actually used the carcass to bait an eel trap in the river, it was the eels he then cooked......mmmm eels fed on nice fresh roadkill, tasty!.....
As I watched him driving round the country lanes in search of the roadkill , I thought how much easier it would have been round Warwick,where not a mile goes by without some (usually large) wild beasty being pasted to the tarmac. Removing them
would be no problem long as you've a nice flat spade in yer boot. Soon have it scraped free of the tarmac.Not sure how the eels'd respond to pancaked pheasant but what the hey........
Surprisingly however, the road kill around Warwick never includes rabbits of which there is an abundance, I'd have to assume the little blighters are too busy engaging in sexual intercourse to cross roads ergo getting pancaked........ Btw, if we are at it like rabbits what are rabbits at it like I wonder?.........
An animal (bird) in ample quantities of deadness is the pheasant which, must surely, be the dumbest of all creatures? How they manage to stay alive long enough to create baby pheasants is beyond me?..... "hey baby how's about you and I get to makin some new pheasants huh?”.....screeechhhhhhh THUD .........
I spotted a plump badger on the way here this morning I might do a nice eel pie for Mr's Me from Guyscliffe later. I hope the bugger fits in the boot and really is dead! I'd hate to be half way to Birmingham and an angry badger suddenly wakes up to wreak havoc in my motor vehicle, its bad enough keeping the car on the road when your trying to swot a wasp or something so I'd rather not wrestle resurrected roadkill. Its probably even against some obscure bp health and safety rule.
I don't know why I was watching it exactly as I'm highly unlikely to raise my own pigs here in central Birmingham, I'm sure the neighbour would take issue with the noise for one thing, mind you bearing in mind she is known as the foghorn, perhaps she'd not even notice? Anyway those recipes are unlikely to get tried round our house but I could, I suppose, have a go at today's, which involved fresh roadkill.....
Roadkill he drove around until he FOUND, I should point out. I very much doubt channel 4 allow their presenters to be filmed hunting down a nice juicy pheasant in their 4x4s, although it would make for gripping tv! I hasten to add for those of you thinking the worst, when I say used, he didn't stir fry the roadkill or anything like that, marinading it fiorst in m&s sweet chilli, he actually used the carcass to bait an eel trap in the river, it was the eels he then cooked......mmmm eels fed on nice fresh roadkill, tasty!.....
As I watched him driving round the country lanes in search of the roadkill , I thought how much easier it would have been round Warwick,where not a mile goes by without some (usually large) wild beasty being pasted to the tarmac. Removing them
would be no problem long as you've a nice flat spade in yer boot. Soon have it scraped free of the tarmac.Not sure how the eels'd respond to pancaked pheasant but what the hey........
Surprisingly however, the road kill around Warwick never includes rabbits of which there is an abundance, I'd have to assume the little blighters are too busy engaging in sexual intercourse to cross roads ergo getting pancaked........ Btw, if we are at it like rabbits what are rabbits at it like I wonder?.........
An animal (bird) in ample quantities of deadness is the pheasant which, must surely, be the dumbest of all creatures? How they manage to stay alive long enough to create baby pheasants is beyond me?..... "hey baby how's about you and I get to makin some new pheasants huh?”.....screeechhhhhhh THUD .........
I spotted a plump badger on the way here this morning I might do a nice eel pie for Mr's Me from Guyscliffe later. I hope the bugger fits in the boot and really is dead! I'd hate to be half way to Birmingham and an angry badger suddenly wakes up to wreak havoc in my motor vehicle, its bad enough keeping the car on the road when your trying to swot a wasp or something so I'd rather not wrestle resurrected roadkill. Its probably even against some obscure bp health and safety rule.
Retail For Dummies
In an effort to sell more of the England crap....I mean merchandise....
I decided what we needed was a mannequin, as they have in clothing
stores to properly present the items for sale. Being able to see how
they'd look worn is a useful sales tool. Sadly our budget does not run
to the cost of a mannequin and therefore, still keen to fully show off
the England cr.....stuff, we must improvise!
We did consider misappropriating one from Top shop by sending Liam to walk out with one hand in hand (as if they were a couple), but Barry from Rugby rd told me that this doesn't work and only leads to arrest and a difficult conversation with Mrs Barry from Rugby rd, and so, plan B it was then....
It wasn't easy persuading Satheesh to spend hours each day as a mannequin but, for the good of the store, he was persuaded.....counselling: reasonable managerial request, spend a day as a mannequin , Fagoon agreed readily to this..….... Anyway we decked him out from head to toe in the gear with hats and flags tied everywhere and face paints plastered on the remaining visible flesh. In order to give our 'mannequin' a bit of a shine and aid with keeping him motionless, we also glazed him with apricot glaze from the cafe. This worked a treat apart from a few encounters with wasps whereby Satheesh deserted his podium.....upturned MandS crate.....and shocked the hell out of the queue as a mini sized mannequin galloped past them persued by a troup of wasps with the scent of apricot in their nostrils....yes,wasps have nostrils.......
All in All though he made a highly effective, albeit diminutive, mannequin and many people stopped to view the merchandise he sported often commenting on the lovely smell of apricot.
I feel moved to suggest my idea to Howard but appreciate some might have concern with staff being press ganged into costume as it were, but, again, I checked with Fagoon whether we were in effect bullying them to which she responded, “ bullying? I'll give them bullying the little *^&% £$.”....... I'd naturally suggest the permanent till one guy as ideal for the task, with him being pretty much immovable anyway, and he'd need less glazing....you know you've all got someone in mind.
We did consider misappropriating one from Top shop by sending Liam to walk out with one hand in hand (as if they were a couple), but Barry from Rugby rd told me that this doesn't work and only leads to arrest and a difficult conversation with Mrs Barry from Rugby rd, and so, plan B it was then....
It wasn't easy persuading Satheesh to spend hours each day as a mannequin but, for the good of the store, he was persuaded.....counselling: reasonable managerial request, spend a day as a mannequin , Fagoon agreed readily to this..….... Anyway we decked him out from head to toe in the gear with hats and flags tied everywhere and face paints plastered on the remaining visible flesh. In order to give our 'mannequin' a bit of a shine and aid with keeping him motionless, we also glazed him with apricot glaze from the cafe. This worked a treat apart from a few encounters with wasps whereby Satheesh deserted his podium.....upturned MandS crate.....and shocked the hell out of the queue as a mini sized mannequin galloped past them persued by a troup of wasps with the scent of apricot in their nostrils....yes,wasps have nostrils.......
All in All though he made a highly effective, albeit diminutive, mannequin and many people stopped to view the merchandise he sported often commenting on the lovely smell of apricot.
I feel moved to suggest my idea to Howard but appreciate some might have concern with staff being press ganged into costume as it were, but, again, I checked with Fagoon whether we were in effect bullying them to which she responded, “ bullying? I'll give them bullying the little *^&% £$.”....... I'd naturally suggest the permanent till one guy as ideal for the task, with him being pretty much immovable anyway, and he'd need less glazing....you know you've all got someone in mind.
Good Old Times
Young Liam from Guyscliffe in his short career so far, has become quite
a favourite with the regular (old) ladies. His boyish looks and ability
for looking interested at all times has rendered him the chief object of
their need to unload......so to speak.... and so, he is often to be
found trapped at the till point by some old dear regaling him with her
recent life history.
His aforementioned knack for displaying an interested face leaves the old ladies blissfully unaware that he has, in fact, fallen asleep eyes open and standing to attention......not THAT kind of standing to attention, he likes old ladies but not THAT much......at least this is what I'm convinced is happening. No one can stand so attentively to attention(!) listening to what 'our Gladys said to our Mabel last Thursday week at Primark' without losing the will to live surely?
The beauty of all this is that I can sidle.....again with the sidling...off to a quiet spot at the merest suggestion of old folk knowing that I'm not even on their radar now, which is set strictly to Liam, and while he listens to this weeks adventures in bingoing and the like, I can laugh at his predicament via cctv. Its brilliant, I should have hired a decoy years ago.
Of course I'm still highly careful on the shop floor because Liam isn't always around and when they cant get the fresh faced boy wonder, they'll invariably head for me!
For example we have 2 (not 1 but 2!) 'jokers' who come in the store every morning, both lovely people don't get me wrong but, if you think you've at some point in your life seen the worlds worst comedian(s) think again until you've met ours! As I said there is 2 of them, I think they rota the store in shifts because you can guarantee that when your working delivery, you will be accosted by one or the other with today's 'joke' for want of a better description.
The old guy has a love for our young Indian lads (platonic purely platonic) he loves to corner them by the chillers, putting his arm around them and clutching them to his chest, he 'batters' them with his jokes. I've asked the lads after ward on a few occasions what he said to them and they do not have a clue! He leaves the store laughing like a drain and the Satheeshs and Charis are left standing there with bemused expressions on their faces.
They put up with all this unwarranted physical contact without complaint and I admire their professionalism. I'm not sure I could stand being assaulted daily by an old man's arm pit while being regaled with bad jokes I cant even understand. I wouldn't mind but the jokes always call for a response, the lads laugh nervously and the old guy takes this as confirmation that he is indeed hilarious guffawing his way to the door basking in the glow of his M&S audience.
And then there is the old lady, the old lady who's convinced she knows me personally. She wanders in of a morning cracking jokes at whoever's within earshot and then launches into a conversation with me at the mid way point, as if we'd not finished our chat from earlier! I honestly don't understand a word she says.....she IS English and IS (apparently) speaking English but she and I have a communication barrier unsurpassed, she blathers away ending with an earthy cackle and I nod and laugh along as if I've understood every word and found her hilarious.
To be fair she seems happy enough with this I only pray she never tells me her dog has died or something. Although hopefully she wouldn't have a big goofy grin on her face in that instance. Now if we could only get her to remember her teeth before she leaves the house........
His aforementioned knack for displaying an interested face leaves the old ladies blissfully unaware that he has, in fact, fallen asleep eyes open and standing to attention......not THAT kind of standing to attention, he likes old ladies but not THAT much......at least this is what I'm convinced is happening. No one can stand so attentively to attention(!) listening to what 'our Gladys said to our Mabel last Thursday week at Primark' without losing the will to live surely?
The beauty of all this is that I can sidle.....again with the sidling...off to a quiet spot at the merest suggestion of old folk knowing that I'm not even on their radar now, which is set strictly to Liam, and while he listens to this weeks adventures in bingoing and the like, I can laugh at his predicament via cctv. Its brilliant, I should have hired a decoy years ago.
Of course I'm still highly careful on the shop floor because Liam isn't always around and when they cant get the fresh faced boy wonder, they'll invariably head for me!
For example we have 2 (not 1 but 2!) 'jokers' who come in the store every morning, both lovely people don't get me wrong but, if you think you've at some point in your life seen the worlds worst comedian(s) think again until you've met ours! As I said there is 2 of them, I think they rota the store in shifts because you can guarantee that when your working delivery, you will be accosted by one or the other with today's 'joke' for want of a better description.
The old guy has a love for our young Indian lads (platonic purely platonic) he loves to corner them by the chillers, putting his arm around them and clutching them to his chest, he 'batters' them with his jokes. I've asked the lads after ward on a few occasions what he said to them and they do not have a clue! He leaves the store laughing like a drain and the Satheeshs and Charis are left standing there with bemused expressions on their faces.
They put up with all this unwarranted physical contact without complaint and I admire their professionalism. I'm not sure I could stand being assaulted daily by an old man's arm pit while being regaled with bad jokes I cant even understand. I wouldn't mind but the jokes always call for a response, the lads laugh nervously and the old guy takes this as confirmation that he is indeed hilarious guffawing his way to the door basking in the glow of his M&S audience.
And then there is the old lady, the old lady who's convinced she knows me personally. She wanders in of a morning cracking jokes at whoever's within earshot and then launches into a conversation with me at the mid way point, as if we'd not finished our chat from earlier! I honestly don't understand a word she says.....she IS English and IS (apparently) speaking English but she and I have a communication barrier unsurpassed, she blathers away ending with an earthy cackle and I nod and laugh along as if I've understood every word and found her hilarious.
To be fair she seems happy enough with this I only pray she never tells me her dog has died or something. Although hopefully she wouldn't have a big goofy grin on her face in that instance. Now if we could only get her to remember her teeth before she leaves the house........
Psssst .......
Considering all the hoopla recently when M and S changed the name of
Food to go to Food on the Move.....yes people you read right, hoopla,
when M and S change something we get badgered about it for a
month.....it surprised me somewhat that we didn't actually tell the
customers? Or if we did I missed it, far too busy reading e mails about
it and emails about the emails followed by reminders not to forget the
emails etc etc.
Anyway, in my own small way I decided to put this right and at lunch time each day I've been sidling up to people choosing sandwiches and saying, "pssst, have you heard the news?" to which they reply "er what news?" "food to go is now food on the move!" I try to deliver it in as excited a tone as I can manage....
I have to say people were decidedly non plussed by the exciting news. No one has any sense of theatre anymore, if only they knew the creativity, work and man hours that go into these name changes. Committees were formed, meeting upon meeting attended and literature a plenty was printed and sent. "Sod plan b the trees can fend for themselves we must send out acres of bumph"
The customers seemed pretty disturbed by my sidling I must confess, (perhaps the psssting was a step to far?), which I suppose as advertising gambits go isn't a patch on the girl in her underwear gamboling round the woods! I wonder if she knows about food on the move or how she feels about sidling?
Anyway, in my own small way I decided to put this right and at lunch time each day I've been sidling up to people choosing sandwiches and saying, "pssst, have you heard the news?" to which they reply "er what news?" "food to go is now food on the move!" I try to deliver it in as excited a tone as I can manage....
I have to say people were decidedly non plussed by the exciting news. No one has any sense of theatre anymore, if only they knew the creativity, work and man hours that go into these name changes. Committees were formed, meeting upon meeting attended and literature a plenty was printed and sent. "Sod plan b the trees can fend for themselves we must send out acres of bumph"
The customers seemed pretty disturbed by my sidling I must confess, (perhaps the psssting was a step to far?), which I suppose as advertising gambits go isn't a patch on the girl in her underwear gamboling round the woods! I wonder if she knows about food on the move or how she feels about sidling?
Cross My Way
Changing a planogram I laid my stuff out carefully so as to avoid
obstructing our beloved customers, I worked back against an area of the
shop without product and therefore (theoretically) somewhere customers
didn't need to walk, after all there were 3 different routes to take to
get past me.
After the 14th customer had barged their way past me.......one large lady even 'bottomed' me as I was slightly off balanced , literally striking me with one of her ample cheeks, the left I believe, and I almost ended up in the chiller...... the end of my tether was firmly in sight and when an elderly gentleman(!) not only barged past but then tried to come back the same way I snapped!
I grabbed him forcibly by the arm and performed a citizens arrest......obstructing a retailer about his retail duties.......and, placing him in a non-confrontational headlock I was able to bind his hands with cable ties until the police arrived. The police were unaware of the law relating to 'obstructing a retailer about his retail duties' but with a new coalition Government in place and a strong desire to go to lunch, were prepared to take my word for it. Police time is far too precious to waste on things such as facts.
While the first part of this tale did indeed happen and has happened 44 times before (apart maybe from the ladies cheek assault which was a first for me), the remainder was,sadly, in my head alone. I did not accost any elderly gentlemen and the police didn't come when called, these are fantasies I must learn to overcome.......note to self, get better fantasies asap......
After the 14th customer had barged their way past me.......one large lady even 'bottomed' me as I was slightly off balanced , literally striking me with one of her ample cheeks, the left I believe, and I almost ended up in the chiller...... the end of my tether was firmly in sight and when an elderly gentleman(!) not only barged past but then tried to come back the same way I snapped!
I grabbed him forcibly by the arm and performed a citizens arrest......obstructing a retailer about his retail duties.......and, placing him in a non-confrontational headlock I was able to bind his hands with cable ties until the police arrived. The police were unaware of the law relating to 'obstructing a retailer about his retail duties' but with a new coalition Government in place and a strong desire to go to lunch, were prepared to take my word for it. Police time is far too precious to waste on things such as facts.
While the first part of this tale did indeed happen and has happened 44 times before (apart maybe from the ladies cheek assault which was a first for me), the remainder was,sadly, in my head alone. I did not accost any elderly gentlemen and the police didn't come when called, these are fantasies I must learn to overcome.......note to self, get better fantasies asap......
I Dream A Dream
I have a dream.....not a meaningful dream like Martin Lk but a dream
none the less.
My dream is one I have harboured for many years basically since I first noticed girls and that they liked a guy who could dance, my dream is to dance!
Not in a billy elliott style I hasten to add, no boy wanting to dance on a worldwide stage here just boy wanting to dance with girls without killing their feet and/or killing the rhythm! Alcohol acts as a buffer for this dream when occasion to dance presents itself but, while my head in its inebriated state is thinking the boy CAN dance the feet continue blissfully unaware of this update and continue to shuffle in a non-committal style, part rhythm part trying to make for the door!
Anyway, as I've said dancing has always looked exceptionally cool to me, when done well, apart of course from tap which is like rhythmic masturbation in public! Ooh look at me I can tappity tap myself to orgasm. I just do not see the attraction. Tap should be left to old people, take Bruce Forsyth for example, every time I' m unfortunate enough to see him on tv he comes on doing this soft shoe shuffle crap that just isn't dancing I'm telling you, its made up he's just slapping his feet off the floor vaguely in time to the music while the (elderly!) crowd goes into bloody raptures. I frequently get up and shout obscenity's at the telly at the mere mention of Brucey.
But back to my dream, I dream that I finally succumb to my dancing obsession and start to practice day and night with a purpose. I choose a routine and go at it hammer and tongs day after day, week after week, in a Rocky style, eye of the tiger I train non stop for my big moment. I phone in sick in order to train, I lose sleep in order to train, I dance up and down my street alarming small children but drawing ever approving glances from the old ladies and I give up all other hobbies, (shouting at Brucie for example) in order to train. All with one purpose in mind.
Until, finally the day has come,
and its conference time, the Celtic Manor is heaving with bp of all shapes and sizes, we've had dinner the awards stuff is done and dusted and the dance floor opens. The dj begins spinning his discs and slowly the dance floor fills, at first only with the ladies of hr who always hit the dance floor first, but then with all and sundry as the mood builds. At last my time is upon me, I must fulfill my destiny, I've done all that practice for this one moment in time and now is that moment, I make my way to the dance floor , through the drunken hordes to far gone to dance.
As I approach the floor I spy the vacant boards ahead of me, I work my way past the ladies of hr all huddled together in a seamless dance of arms and legs in perfect sychronicity including Fagoon who's offering advice to the less rhythmic among them bellowing encouragement over the pumping base, I sidle past Carl of Stonebridge who shirt wide open to the waist is impressing several females with his well practised hand jive, young Charlie in attendance picking up some of the masters grooves, “ watch this one Charlie he shouts” as he flips the jive from left to right, past Gavin once again reeling out his highland fling disco version, pretty much the same as the traditional version but with glow sticks.
At last I reach my spot and, space clear around me I crouch down into position fold my arms and begin, to the strains of the Village peoples YMCA, a faultless Russian cossack dance. At first I'm dancing the cossack dance completely unobserved but soon the other dancers become aware of my movements and turn to watch, one by one until the whole dance floor is looking my way, this ripple soon spreads to the remaining diners licking their plates at the tables and trying to drain that last drop from the free wine, they too move to the edge of the dance floor to watch. Soon a slow hand clap begins as the crowd witness my routine in full flow, Welsh Sarah starts up a chant of HOI
HOI HOI and that is taken up by the whole room, other guests at the hotel hear the commotion and begin to come into the room to see what's causing it. Bp's finest is now joined by Americans in
golf trousers all filling the room in a throng facing the dance floor and the one man who dances on at ever increasings speeds and complexity. A few spirited souls join in and, although they didn't practice like me they soon get in the flow, Ann from Chelmsley dances the cossack like shes been dancing it her whole life..............
And the night will live in legend both through bp and in local Cardiff folklore, the man who came and danced the cossack dance will never be forgotten at least until something better happens in wales......
My dream is one I have harboured for many years basically since I first noticed girls and that they liked a guy who could dance, my dream is to dance!
Not in a billy elliott style I hasten to add, no boy wanting to dance on a worldwide stage here just boy wanting to dance with girls without killing their feet and/or killing the rhythm! Alcohol acts as a buffer for this dream when occasion to dance presents itself but, while my head in its inebriated state is thinking the boy CAN dance the feet continue blissfully unaware of this update and continue to shuffle in a non-committal style, part rhythm part trying to make for the door!
Anyway, as I've said dancing has always looked exceptionally cool to me, when done well, apart of course from tap which is like rhythmic masturbation in public! Ooh look at me I can tappity tap myself to orgasm. I just do not see the attraction. Tap should be left to old people, take Bruce Forsyth for example, every time I' m unfortunate enough to see him on tv he comes on doing this soft shoe shuffle crap that just isn't dancing I'm telling you, its made up he's just slapping his feet off the floor vaguely in time to the music while the (elderly!) crowd goes into bloody raptures. I frequently get up and shout obscenity's at the telly at the mere mention of Brucey.
But back to my dream, I dream that I finally succumb to my dancing obsession and start to practice day and night with a purpose. I choose a routine and go at it hammer and tongs day after day, week after week, in a Rocky style, eye of the tiger I train non stop for my big moment. I phone in sick in order to train, I lose sleep in order to train, I dance up and down my street alarming small children but drawing ever approving glances from the old ladies and I give up all other hobbies, (shouting at Brucie for example) in order to train. All with one purpose in mind.
Until, finally the day has come,
and its conference time, the Celtic Manor is heaving with bp of all shapes and sizes, we've had dinner the awards stuff is done and dusted and the dance floor opens. The dj begins spinning his discs and slowly the dance floor fills, at first only with the ladies of hr who always hit the dance floor first, but then with all and sundry as the mood builds. At last my time is upon me, I must fulfill my destiny, I've done all that practice for this one moment in time and now is that moment, I make my way to the dance floor , through the drunken hordes to far gone to dance.
As I approach the floor I spy the vacant boards ahead of me, I work my way past the ladies of hr all huddled together in a seamless dance of arms and legs in perfect sychronicity including Fagoon who's offering advice to the less rhythmic among them bellowing encouragement over the pumping base, I sidle past Carl of Stonebridge who shirt wide open to the waist is impressing several females with his well practised hand jive, young Charlie in attendance picking up some of the masters grooves, “ watch this one Charlie he shouts” as he flips the jive from left to right, past Gavin once again reeling out his highland fling disco version, pretty much the same as the traditional version but with glow sticks.
At last I reach my spot and, space clear around me I crouch down into position fold my arms and begin, to the strains of the Village peoples YMCA, a faultless Russian cossack dance. At first I'm dancing the cossack dance completely unobserved but soon the other dancers become aware of my movements and turn to watch, one by one until the whole dance floor is looking my way, this ripple soon spreads to the remaining diners licking their plates at the tables and trying to drain that last drop from the free wine, they too move to the edge of the dance floor to watch. Soon a slow hand clap begins as the crowd witness my routine in full flow, Welsh Sarah starts up a chant of HOI
HOI HOI and that is taken up by the whole room, other guests at the hotel hear the commotion and begin to come into the room to see what's causing it. Bp's finest is now joined by Americans in
golf trousers all filling the room in a throng facing the dance floor and the one man who dances on at ever increasings speeds and complexity. A few spirited souls join in and, although they didn't practice like me they soon get in the flow, Ann from Chelmsley dances the cossack like shes been dancing it her whole life..............
And the night will live in legend both through bp and in local Cardiff folklore, the man who came and danced the cossack dance will never be forgotten at least until something better happens in wales......
Carry On Luggage
Meandering thought playing havoc again led me to pondering the ins and outs of your average sex change, most specifically the female to male rather than the more traditional male to female, which we all know a little about already right?
I mean it involves operations, hormonal stuff and the gradual growing of breasts etc, but what do we know of the female to male really? Not much at all I’m thinking, I mean how does that work exactly? Its not as if hormone therapy grows a penis now is it? And, I for one have never heard of a transplant style operation, I mean who would donate for one thing? I cant see that kind of donor card catching on, I sure as hell wouldn’t carry one!
My train of thought led me to thinking that the deal has to be prosthetic. A detachable maybe even interchangable penis in a wide range of colors to suit all. Perhaps your discerning former female could carry several? , a variety of penis if you will, in a display case. Presented nicely in little (or not so) velvet lined compartments.
Its entirely feasible I mean, I’d assume, your average newly made man wouldn’t want permanent stasis in either floppy or ….ummm.. more alert…now would they? Stands to reason they’d have before and afters . Reconnection of same would have to be rapid and easy to do as nothing would spoil the mood more than “ yes yes I swear I‘m turned on I just cant find my bloody screwdriver"
When your out and about tomorrow and you see a male who might not, when you think about it, look quite right somehow and he’s carrying a briefcase…..well, who knows eh……….
I mean it involves operations, hormonal stuff and the gradual growing of breasts etc, but what do we know of the female to male really? Not much at all I’m thinking, I mean how does that work exactly? Its not as if hormone therapy grows a penis now is it? And, I for one have never heard of a transplant style operation, I mean who would donate for one thing? I cant see that kind of donor card catching on, I sure as hell wouldn’t carry one!
My train of thought led me to thinking that the deal has to be prosthetic. A detachable maybe even interchangable penis in a wide range of colors to suit all. Perhaps your discerning former female could carry several? , a variety of penis if you will, in a display case. Presented nicely in little (or not so) velvet lined compartments.
Its entirely feasible I mean, I’d assume, your average newly made man wouldn’t want permanent stasis in either floppy or ….ummm.. more alert…now would they? Stands to reason they’d have before and afters . Reconnection of same would have to be rapid and easy to do as nothing would spoil the mood more than “ yes yes I swear I‘m turned on I just cant find my bloody screwdriver"
When your out and about tomorrow and you see a male who might not, when you think about it, look quite right somehow and he’s carrying a briefcase…..well, who knows eh……….
There It Rings Again
mid morning at the fun factory and the phone rings
me "good morning bp Kings norton ? "
him "What ?"
me "good morning , how can i help you ? "
him " is that Asda ?"
me "no I'm sorry this is a bp "
him " a what ?"
me " a bp ..as in petrol station "
him "well I've looked in the yellow pages and it says Asda ?"
me "well Ive looked at the darn pole sign and it said Bp !
I didn't actually say that last part but i wanted to !
I think actually I'll phone him back now and tell him after closer inspection I've found it is in fact an Asda and I've been coming to work for 2 years in the wrong damn uniform
me "good morning bp Kings norton ? "
him "What ?"
me "good morning , how can i help you ? "
him " is that Asda ?"
me "no I'm sorry this is a bp "
him " a what ?"
me " a bp ..as in petrol station "
him "well I've looked in the yellow pages and it says Asda ?"
me "well Ive looked at the darn pole sign and it said Bp !
I didn't actually say that last part but i wanted to !
I think actually I'll phone him back now and tell him after closer inspection I've found it is in fact an Asda and I've been coming to work for 2 years in the wrong damn uniform
Sunday Sunday
That alarm on a Sunday morning is a blessed little tune that wafts me softly from my warm bed and deposits me carefully in the bathroom,ready to begin my ablutions and kick start my happy day.Sunday's face scraping is even more pleasurable for it being welllll Sunday.
Oh Joyous Sunday how I love to work you.It matters not that my mouth tastes like I've had incontinent hamsters sleeping in there overnight nor that my tongue feels as if I have coated it in batter,No for I have work to go to and customers that await!
I feel joy when the first customer of the day badgers me for his missing supplement..."you have a free supplement missing sir?Well clearly that is not good enough and I can see that it has stressed you greatly,the veins popping on your forehead are a dead giveaway.Please please ,ease your troubled brow for it is Sunday and I,am here to help.Let me see if I can find you a replacement or failing that I could fill you in myself on the lives and happenings of various d grade celebrity's ".........this weeks shock exclusive Jordan blows her nose...........
Oh Joyous Sunday how I love to work you.It matters not that my mouth tastes like I've had incontinent hamsters sleeping in there overnight nor that my tongue feels as if I have coated it in batter,No for I have work to go to and customers that await!
I feel joy when the first customer of the day badgers me for his missing supplement..."you have a free supplement missing sir?Well clearly that is not good enough and I can see that it has stressed you greatly,the veins popping on your forehead are a dead giveaway.Please please ,ease your troubled brow for it is Sunday and I,am here to help.Let me see if I can find you a replacement or failing that I could fill you in myself on the lives and happenings of various d grade celebrity's ".........this weeks shock exclusive Jordan blows her nose...........
The Old Routine
"good afternoon is there any fuel with that sir?"
"WHAT?"
"Fuel?Have you had any today?"
"oh yes yes its ....umm...."
several minutes pass
"Which colour would your car be sir?"
"WHAT?"
"which.....colour.......is ........your.....car?"
"its the blue one"
"ahh ok...the blue renault,citreon or ford fiesta sir?
"yes"
by now the queue is back to the m42 and several customers have pitched
tents
"yes...okkkkk.....how much did you put in ?"
"its a blue one"
"rrigghttt...but exactly which...pause to allow ear smoke to
dissipate.....of the 3 blue cars would it be precisely
"ohh its the fiesta son"
"thank you sir...do you have a nectar card?"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT?"
"Fuel?Have you had any today?"
"oh yes yes its ....umm...."
several minutes pass
"Which colour would your car be sir?"
"WHAT?"
"which.....colour.......is ........your.....car?"
"its the blue one"
"ahh ok...the blue renault,citreon or ford fiesta sir?
"yes"
by now the queue is back to the m42 and several customers have pitched
tents
"yes...okkkkk.....how much did you put in ?"
"its a blue one"
"rrigghttt...but exactly which...pause to allow ear smoke to
dissipate.....of the 3 blue cars would it be precisely
"ohh its the fiesta son"
"thank you sir...do you have a nectar card?"
"WHAT?"
Stick Em'Up
Imagine my excitement this morning to , a ) actually receive post and ,
b) it include a whole ream of free stickers !! Woohoo free stickers !
( Obviously the excitement had been mitigated somewhat by the presence
of a bp envelope in the post , the arrival of merchandising matters for
example often triggering an asthma attack but heck did i mention there
were free stickers ? )
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly an excited moment can turn on you .....and so it was 30seconds later when I inspected said stickers to find they were in fact , Golden Rules of Safety stickers .....woo and a decidedly less enthusiastic hoo .......I've since e-mailed the hsse dept to feedback that i cant see these catching on ? Kids want teenage mutant ninja turtles and football players ,I just cant see them trading ,Golden rule 5 (working at height !) in the playground at break time
Ever helpful , the kind folk of Hsse have included in the pack , a ' table of suggested locations for the stickers ' ....Curiously enough I had my own train of thought as to where they could stick their Golden Rules of Safety stickers ...............
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly an excited moment can turn on you .....and so it was 30seconds later when I inspected said stickers to find they were in fact , Golden Rules of Safety stickers .....woo and a decidedly less enthusiastic hoo .......I've since e-mailed the hsse dept to feedback that i cant see these catching on ? Kids want teenage mutant ninja turtles and football players ,I just cant see them trading ,Golden rule 5 (working at height !) in the playground at break time
Ever helpful , the kind folk of Hsse have included in the pack , a ' table of suggested locations for the stickers ' ....Curiously enough I had my own train of thought as to where they could stick their Golden Rules of Safety stickers ...............
Johnson And Not Johnson
Finally having had our new chemicals fitted by Johnson d we received training in their usage from the lady rep, training I thought? But I am a retail professional of many years standing, what must they show me? Anyway the training was simple enough but a Tad disconcerting due to the repeated, and very grave, warnings re using gloves when utilising the chemicals. Now we've always been told to use gloves but the lady rep was most insistent and wore a terrified expression everytime she mentioned it.
I had also seen welsh Sarah at the last meeting and she'd had her chems before us, ignored the warnings and was currently sporting elderly tortoise skin knuckles as a result,"4 seconds I had my hands in the water boyo" she remarked. With all this in mind I felt it my duty as a caring manager to test said products before unleashing them on my staff and so, we embarked on a controlled experiment whereby we filled the cleaning sink with the solution and, choosing our smallest csa, little satheesh, we kitted him out in protective wear, ie goggles and the wellies, and then carefully emersed him in the sink. (fear not safety fans for we protected our selves from splash back by lowering him from atop the step ladders) Results were inconclusive, he sat there for the whole of his break and although the protective gear survived intact he himself emerged completely wrinkled from head to toe, yes even more wrinkled than Brendan of Bedworth.
Not a sight anyone needs to see and two of our female csa's fainted in shock, one of whom only heard the tale second hand. "more than Brendan of Bedworth?" she was heard to remark before the sound of her head hitting the floor echoed across the phoneline.
The irony of all this is that cleaning wise, the chems are only marginally more effective than plain water!
I had also seen welsh Sarah at the last meeting and she'd had her chems before us, ignored the warnings and was currently sporting elderly tortoise skin knuckles as a result,"4 seconds I had my hands in the water boyo" she remarked. With all this in mind I felt it my duty as a caring manager to test said products before unleashing them on my staff and so, we embarked on a controlled experiment whereby we filled the cleaning sink with the solution and, choosing our smallest csa, little satheesh, we kitted him out in protective wear, ie goggles and the wellies, and then carefully emersed him in the sink. (fear not safety fans for we protected our selves from splash back by lowering him from atop the step ladders) Results were inconclusive, he sat there for the whole of his break and although the protective gear survived intact he himself emerged completely wrinkled from head to toe, yes even more wrinkled than Brendan of Bedworth.
Not a sight anyone needs to see and two of our female csa's fainted in shock, one of whom only heard the tale second hand. "more than Brendan of Bedworth?" she was heard to remark before the sound of her head hitting the floor echoed across the phoneline.
The irony of all this is that cleaning wise, the chems are only marginally more effective than plain water!
The Prodigal Son
Dear India,
Please welcome your native son, and my good friend, mr Rohit back to his homeland with open arms. He left your shores a boy but returns a man. Not that he experienced any of our fine local women here but let me assure you that was due entirely to their inherent racism and not any lack of effort on Rohit's part. He was most loud and persistent in his attempts to woo them. He has however met many characters that will help him face almost anything in life going forward, englands loss will be indias gain as no one who has spent anytime at all with Daz and chappers can fail to be prepared for anthing.His mental strength is now second to none...except maybe hitesh and kunal who were also 'dazzed' while here and have probably taken several months to once again sleep at night without the terror. Rohit has taken all his bp uniform back with him with the intention of creating a fashion buzz on the streets of mumbai. He will be quite the envy of all fine Indian gentlemen as he struts around in the sunshine wearing his m and s fleece! Finally let me assure you that although tempted by the women and the drink he did not partake of drugs while here, in any case lemsip is entirely legal.
Yours sincerly, England
ps. Kunal and lalit having spent less time here should have returned home relatively undamaged......relatively
Please welcome your native son, and my good friend, mr Rohit back to his homeland with open arms. He left your shores a boy but returns a man. Not that he experienced any of our fine local women here but let me assure you that was due entirely to their inherent racism and not any lack of effort on Rohit's part. He was most loud and persistent in his attempts to woo them. He has however met many characters that will help him face almost anything in life going forward, englands loss will be indias gain as no one who has spent anytime at all with Daz and chappers can fail to be prepared for anthing.His mental strength is now second to none...except maybe hitesh and kunal who were also 'dazzed' while here and have probably taken several months to once again sleep at night without the terror. Rohit has taken all his bp uniform back with him with the intention of creating a fashion buzz on the streets of mumbai. He will be quite the envy of all fine Indian gentlemen as he struts around in the sunshine wearing his m and s fleece! Finally let me assure you that although tempted by the women and the drink he did not partake of drugs while here, in any case lemsip is entirely legal.
Yours sincerly, England
ps. Kunal and lalit having spent less time here should have returned home relatively undamaged......relatively
Zap That Fly
I'm fascinated by the fly zapper we have in our cafés.
I've never actually seen the thing deal with a fly but occasionally hear it zapping away and so have always assumed it was doing its job. I now suspect its been pulling a fast one and has, all this time, been zapping dust mites in a cunning attempt to look efficient, but the thing is, why would any self respecting fly be hanging about that close to the ceiling? All the good stuffs down low, there are surfaces to defecate on and human beings to annoy. I've never even seen one in the vicinity of the zapper and, unless it has an attractant (fly porn?)I can't see it ever even seeing a fly let alone frying one.
I pondered this the other day as I tried to introduce a fly in my office to the concept of the rolled up newspaper. O.K. so I actually used my competency dictionary,(hey I knew it would come in handy!), and I didn't care which competency the fly fell too, I was determinedly trying to show him ALL of them in close up detail!.... “come on fly” I muttered, “there are several, take your pick”..... The fly however, no doubt recognising the evils of the competency dictionary was having none of it and continued to career round the Guyscliffe filing system. (at fly scale the equivalent of Switzerland)
I contemplated taking the café's zapper off the wall and waving it at the fly like some backward darth vader, but didn't have a screwdriver handy or the trust in my diy capability. The only thing likely to have gotten zapped was me with a few thousand volts of electricity, still, I could do with a new hairstyle.
Anyway, I'm returning my competency dictionary to Fagoon and insisting on a heavier larger faced model, how on earth am I to battle fly kind with this dinky thing? Its not even proved a good door stop, bloody door still keeps locking me out! When Nadine asks me which competencies i've hit this month and I can't remember a single one, I want to at least respond with some fly killing success stories.
I've never actually seen the thing deal with a fly but occasionally hear it zapping away and so have always assumed it was doing its job. I now suspect its been pulling a fast one and has, all this time, been zapping dust mites in a cunning attempt to look efficient, but the thing is, why would any self respecting fly be hanging about that close to the ceiling? All the good stuffs down low, there are surfaces to defecate on and human beings to annoy. I've never even seen one in the vicinity of the zapper and, unless it has an attractant (fly porn?)I can't see it ever even seeing a fly let alone frying one.
I pondered this the other day as I tried to introduce a fly in my office to the concept of the rolled up newspaper. O.K. so I actually used my competency dictionary,(hey I knew it would come in handy!), and I didn't care which competency the fly fell too, I was determinedly trying to show him ALL of them in close up detail!.... “come on fly” I muttered, “there are several, take your pick”..... The fly however, no doubt recognising the evils of the competency dictionary was having none of it and continued to career round the Guyscliffe filing system. (at fly scale the equivalent of Switzerland)
I contemplated taking the café's zapper off the wall and waving it at the fly like some backward darth vader, but didn't have a screwdriver handy or the trust in my diy capability. The only thing likely to have gotten zapped was me with a few thousand volts of electricity, still, I could do with a new hairstyle.
Anyway, I'm returning my competency dictionary to Fagoon and insisting on a heavier larger faced model, how on earth am I to battle fly kind with this dinky thing? Its not even proved a good door stop, bloody door still keeps locking me out! When Nadine asks me which competencies i've hit this month and I can't remember a single one, I want to at least respond with some fly killing success stories.
Success In Disguise
Increasingly accosted by customers whenever I ventured into the shop I
pondered a solution ,My dilemna being that on the one hand I must
frequent the shop on occasion to fulfil my role as one of bp’s finest.
There is stock to be filled ,counted and ordered ,there are lists to be
checked and ticked .Many varied tasks which I must complete . The flip
side of this is ,as stated ,the tendency to be harassed by customers
with inane questions and queries ..…old people in particular must queue
outside waiting for my arrival…..I am a busy man invariably on a
mission ,I have not the time to escort people 2 feet to the milk. I can
certainly suggest on a price request that the customer look at the price
label but what is the point? It would not be proper of me to reply, “you
mean other than the ones you just walked past?” when enquired if we sell
newspapers ……this is all time consuming and uncomfortable.
Anyway as a result of my pondering (which I undertook in my own free time of course ,pondering not being written into the labour module) I hit upon the idea of wearing disguise ..and it works!
Now when I am stocking the ice cream freezer dressed as a traffic warden no one accosts me! Its great I can wander around unchallenged.
Anyway as a result of my pondering (which I undertook in my own free time of course ,pondering not being written into the labour module) I hit upon the idea of wearing disguise ..and it works!
Now when I am stocking the ice cream freezer dressed as a traffic warden no one accosts me! Its great I can wander around unchallenged.
Slammers And Bammers
I understand that old people struggle with chiop and pin really I do,
i'm a patient man without access to a shotgun, HOWEVER, what I cant
bring myself to understand are the slammers. The people who come upto
the counter and have to launch the card into the machine the very
instant they are within range. WHOOOMP they go slamming it into th epoor
unsuspecting chip and pin device as if they have a personal grievance
with it. “ TAKE THAT YOU LITTLE S**T”
It doesn't even matter how many times they are corrected in their slamming you can guarantee the very next time they'll be physically abusing the unit yet again. I can only imagine its all very, wham bam thank you maam around their house but its not as if the slammers are exclusively male there are some seriously demented pin users out there that are decidedly female....there again maybe they'be been on the receiving end of 'wham bam' tactics for years and this is REVENGE.
It doesn't even matter how many times they are corrected in their slamming you can guarantee the very next time they'll be physically abusing the unit yet again. I can only imagine its all very, wham bam thank you maam around their house but its not as if the slammers are exclusively male there are some seriously demented pin users out there that are decidedly female....there again maybe they'be been on the receiving end of 'wham bam' tactics for years and this is REVENGE.
Truly Biblical
Having freed the toilet from blockage by the biggest log I've ever seen,
excuse the graphic imagery but we are talking full sized swiss roll
here, I pondered how any human being could pass such an object and walk
straight afterwards. I even enquired of staff if they'd noticed anyone
using the toilet who came out afterwards noticeably smaller. Staff just
looked at me as if I were talking Swahili, a look I get quite often.
I must confess to utilising the odd public lavatory on occasion what with my advancing years and what have you (do bladders shrink or something?) but I successfully manage to do so without leaving, 6 foot long toilet roll streamers, 2 inch deep pools of water and/or some other suspicious liquid. I also manage to wash my hands without smearing the sink with soap or worse still nicking said soap! How desperate for soap must one get before stealing it from store bathrooms?
I've also never and I repeat NEVER left logs of biblical proportions!
I must confess to utilising the odd public lavatory on occasion what with my advancing years and what have you (do bladders shrink or something?) but I successfully manage to do so without leaving, 6 foot long toilet roll streamers, 2 inch deep pools of water and/or some other suspicious liquid. I also manage to wash my hands without smearing the sink with soap or worse still nicking said soap! How desperate for soap must one get before stealing it from store bathrooms?
I've also never and I repeat NEVER left logs of biblical proportions!
A Bit On The Side
Bearing in mind our meat theft problem and the likelihood druggie's sell it down the local pub, I realised we were missing a sales op! With this in mind I kitted out our best upselling cashier as the artful dodger......(costume shop being a let down for more modern thieves)
....and sent him off down the pub with 5 steaks and a script. '12 quid a steak guv its a bargain and no mistake' I thought of adding a crack pipe as a prop but unfortunately bunzl (our office and store sundries supplier)were out of stock and therefore (as usual) sent 6 boxes of brown sugar instead.
....and sent him off down the pub with 5 steaks and a script. '12 quid a steak guv its a bargain and no mistake' I thought of adding a crack pipe as a prop but unfortunately bunzl (our office and store sundries supplier)were out of stock and therefore (as usual) sent 6 boxes of brown sugar instead.
"E" For Elbox!
Luckily until the enterprise solution comes into play I have my bp elbox
defensive driving course to fall back on, sadly the only part of which I
remember is that reversing into your parking spot saves petrol! I can't
quite understand exactly how my defensive driving course actually helped
me, how can reversing in, save anymore than reversing out? In an act of
open rebellion I park front on everytime and completely ignore the
supposed sequence for turning corners!
At least I save more than my neighbour who has perfected a 35 point turn every time she parks, which she always ends up doing 2 milimetres from my drivers door rendering it unusable, when the other neighbour then dumps his humvee (its not really a humvee just one of those dopey huge 4x4s that need 2 parking bays and the drivers are always 5 foot tall) cheek to cheek with my other door, I'm left with sunroof entry as my only option should I want to use my motor vehicle. I've had the sunroof connected to the central locking as a pop up, now I can flop myself head first into the driving seat. I , of course have the option of calling either neighbour out to move their inconsiderately parked vehicles, but, the lady could talk for England and midget lad is the worlds most boring man, 5 years running, one more and he gets to keep the trophy!He talks to me about engine parts and d.i.y. projects, 5 minutes in and I want to faint with the strain of politely feigning interest .....So you see my batman like entry is infinitely preferable.
The elbox, of course, mentioned none of this when I did my 'virtual drive'. That went swimmingly apart from the 37 attempts to successfully round a corner! 'In which sequence should you make a left hand turn' it asked.... there were about 5 options, I tried every permutation of the 5 37 times like I said, then, miraculously, after I'd invented several rather interesting new swear words, turned a rather unattractive shade of blue (I looked like a short Avatar) and was poised with the thing above my head ready to introduce it to the wall, I got it right and was all of a sudden a defensively qualified bp driver! .
It saddens me however, that, no matter how many millions of people successfully turn a corner, none LITERALLY NONE of them do it in the bloody prescribed sequence.
At least I save more than my neighbour who has perfected a 35 point turn every time she parks, which she always ends up doing 2 milimetres from my drivers door rendering it unusable, when the other neighbour then dumps his humvee (its not really a humvee just one of those dopey huge 4x4s that need 2 parking bays and the drivers are always 5 foot tall) cheek to cheek with my other door, I'm left with sunroof entry as my only option should I want to use my motor vehicle. I've had the sunroof connected to the central locking as a pop up, now I can flop myself head first into the driving seat. I , of course have the option of calling either neighbour out to move their inconsiderately parked vehicles, but, the lady could talk for England and midget lad is the worlds most boring man, 5 years running, one more and he gets to keep the trophy!He talks to me about engine parts and d.i.y. projects, 5 minutes in and I want to faint with the strain of politely feigning interest .....So you see my batman like entry is infinitely preferable.
The elbox, of course, mentioned none of this when I did my 'virtual drive'. That went swimmingly apart from the 37 attempts to successfully round a corner! 'In which sequence should you make a left hand turn' it asked.... there were about 5 options, I tried every permutation of the 5 37 times like I said, then, miraculously, after I'd invented several rather interesting new swear words, turned a rather unattractive shade of blue (I looked like a short Avatar) and was poised with the thing above my head ready to introduce it to the wall, I got it right and was all of a sudden a defensively qualified bp driver! .
It saddens me however, that, no matter how many millions of people successfully turn a corner, none LITERALLY NONE of them do it in the bloody prescribed sequence.
Warwick In Bloom(ers)
With my new travel distance to the lovely Warwick everyday I have time
and occasion to see many weird and wonderful sights. Such as the old
lady this morning, apparently wearing a cheetah skin coat!
Chunky fur in style it was brown with big black splodges looking for all the world like a cheetah at the bus stop. It nearly buried the old dear and I pondered how it made her look like a pimp from the 70s.Albeit a grey haired old lady style pimp from the 70's
Last seen romping across the Savannah the Cheetah coat now adorned the old lady as if she were stood inside a tent. Maybe she hoped it would make her appear bigger and deter would be bag snatchers, to me she looked like Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, which should be deterrent enough in itself.
For all I know the pimps of Warwick could indeed be little grey haired old ladies in outsized overcoats and I wondered how she controlled her beeatches? Usually they patrol their turf in flash motors so her waiting for a bus could be misleading, perhaps the Jag was in for service.
Another more disturbing sight came at the top of a big hill into the town and again featured a little old lady who was sat atop the hill, on a bench, facing the incoming visitors to town, ie me.
Unfortunately she was sat with her legs wide open and, the way the hill curves, all us drivers had an unrestricted and unwanted view of her undergarments! (Big and white, cos I know Mikey will ask). Luckily i'm not of a nervous disposition and I managed to keep the car on the road but I was definitely slightly traumatised and demonstrating symptoms of shock.
Fair play to the old dear though, if she wants to air her drawers on a sunny Warwick morning, then who I am to quibble? I just wished she saved the show for after rush hour, I'm far to tender in years to be exposed to old ladies knickers, I'd want to be at least 100 before that starts happening as a regular occurrence, at least at that age I should be able to appreciate the view.
I cant comment on whether the underwear were Marks and Spencers own....
Chunky fur in style it was brown with big black splodges looking for all the world like a cheetah at the bus stop. It nearly buried the old dear and I pondered how it made her look like a pimp from the 70s.Albeit a grey haired old lady style pimp from the 70's
Last seen romping across the Savannah the Cheetah coat now adorned the old lady as if she were stood inside a tent. Maybe she hoped it would make her appear bigger and deter would be bag snatchers, to me she looked like Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, which should be deterrent enough in itself.
For all I know the pimps of Warwick could indeed be little grey haired old ladies in outsized overcoats and I wondered how she controlled her beeatches? Usually they patrol their turf in flash motors so her waiting for a bus could be misleading, perhaps the Jag was in for service.
Another more disturbing sight came at the top of a big hill into the town and again featured a little old lady who was sat atop the hill, on a bench, facing the incoming visitors to town, ie me.
Unfortunately she was sat with her legs wide open and, the way the hill curves, all us drivers had an unrestricted and unwanted view of her undergarments! (Big and white, cos I know Mikey will ask). Luckily i'm not of a nervous disposition and I managed to keep the car on the road but I was definitely slightly traumatised and demonstrating symptoms of shock.
Fair play to the old dear though, if she wants to air her drawers on a sunny Warwick morning, then who I am to quibble? I just wished she saved the show for after rush hour, I'm far to tender in years to be exposed to old ladies knickers, I'd want to be at least 100 before that starts happening as a regular occurrence, at least at that age I should be able to appreciate the view.
I cant comment on whether the underwear were Marks and Spencers own....
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