It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down (and pick up that Rollback) on Friday: Part 1

It’s Friday, it’s my fourth day at work this week and I’m starting to feel the cracks appearing in my psychological dinner plate.

I went into work at 8am this morning feeling unusually awake and focused, looking forward to finishing an hour earlier at 4 – but as the day progressed and things took a down turn I was dying to get home and once I did I realised I was knackered. The kind of tired where you feel apathetic towards everything yet paradoxically where one little thing could tip you over the edge.

Yesterday morning my family and I spent 45 minutes looking for my swipe card which I need to clock in and out of work (i.e. to enable me to get paid) and to get into the Music and Video cupboard. We searched everywhere to no prevail and I concluded it must have fallen out of my pocket at work. I rang the entertainment desk to check but nobody answered so I tried again, no luck. So I tried George …no-body answered. I realised nobody answered because I wasn’t there to answer it.

After getting into work and asking around it seemed lost forever, until Steph told me hours later that she’d seen it on the pin board upstairs… today Helen told me she was the one who found it in the George changing rooms and reinforced to security that someone ring me to let me know where it was. How hard is it to make a phone call? Incredibly hard, apparently. I ended up coming into work over half an hour late and having to stay on to make the difference.

I was a bit pissed.

After that I had a fairly relaxed day. I spent most of it re-stocking the gardening aisle at work and rumbling


1. moving items on shelves forward to give the appearance that there is more stock and so that the stock that is there is easily accessible to customers. Oh and so that it looks tidy.

2. (for an employee) a repetitive task which involves stretching, reaching, grabbing, dragging and getting your hands dirty pulling often heavy and fiddly objects forward.

Rumbling is a horrible job when you have to do it all the time, however as an occasional task it’s all right as it’s easy and involves absolutely no thought. However for this reason it is incredibly boring unless you’re doing it with somebody or if you have a very active imagination. Normally when I’m rumbling I’m thinking about someone. Or food.

So yesterday I rumbled and put out gnomes and weed killer. I talked to a lovely lady for about ten minutes about anti-cat pellets (turns out the tub she was after was called Scat-a-Cat not ‘GET OFF‘!! We decided ‘get off’ was a much more appropriate name). I also had the pleasure – and this is one of the perks of the job – of being talked at by various small children. No sarcasm intended; I love little kids. The thought of having one myself scares the shit out of me but I love talking to them at work and making funny faces at them. Four little girls appeared out of nowhere at one point and immediately asked me my name, whereupon I asked them if they were able to read my name badge. After I praised one of them for getting it right they each proceeded to tell me all of their own names and then bombarded me with questions.

Then later on a lady with an adorable little girl and boy in her trolley asked me where the coat hangers were. During the incredibly time consuming walk over (due to the fact the shop floor was packed) the girl told me she had a pony magazine in the trolley and a cam-wa. I said ‘WOW!’ and told her that I liked My Little Pony. I really am a BIG KID.  Turns out it was a My Little Pony magazine! There were 6 wings in there, which I was shown and I said that that was almost one to wear for every day of the week!

Turns out we didn’t have the coat hangers the lady wanted and I waved goodbye to the kids who I would much rather have spent the rest of my shift with. They didn’t realise I’d walked off until I got half way down the aisle and I heard their mum say ‘say goodbye’ and the little girl cry ‘Byyyye, MY NAME’S …!!’

Small children really like to tell you their names.


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