I was reading over my last post just now and it turns out that that was a stupid thing to write and to blurt out into the populace of an empty room, so I think I'll finally get around to letting you know what I've been up to - and yes Master, you'll finally get to know about the Newsagents.
So we might as well start there. I got a job at a Newsagents, at the start of June, and I managed to work there a grand total of 4-days before I had to resign my position as Shop Assistant and cover Paper Boy. Thrilling stuff I assure you. Being there 4-days I managed to break a few laws, all under the guidance and forceful nature of my boss, who no one had anything good to say about him. So there we are, a kindly old man, who's employees loathe - that should have been my first indicator. The second was the amount of fag smoking ingrates I had to serve with children by the armful, begging for sweets but never receiving their sugary snacks because their parents wanted them to live healthy life-styles. Ironic, I know.
And then a kid came in asking: 'Will you serve me?' and I was wondering what I'd serve him, the yellow signs shouting at me MUST BE OVER 18 and then the shadow of the tall hunchbacked bossman loomed over me, I turned to see his crooked stained smile and there it was, what everyone else thought - the evil psycho. He looked at the kid, and I could see that he was like 14, I would have hoped that everyone else in the shop would see the crime being committed, but the boss made me type in the fag's price and the kid handed over the money, and the no one was any the wiser, except the bossman who was an extra fiver up.
I should have resigned then, but I was in the thinking - MONEY, MONEY, MONEY. It was £6.70 an hour, 10-hours a week - not bad, better than the Job Centre and easy work...selling fags to the under age.
Then would come the weekend, 5am start, and pay for an hour. Easy? Yes. Back-broken? Yes, how all those old folks do it, I'll never know. We all worked on the floor, except the bossman, it was weird. But then I got to go out with one of the guys to show me one of the four rounds I would be covering - 4 hours later, and a grateful paperman, glad to have finished his round and hour and a half earlier, I saddled back on up the road to home. I get a text saying, you got a car?
It was from bossman, I said I could. He knew I could drive from the CV, but there was no question of a car. Return text, you got a bike? I said no. Can you walk? Okay, he didn't ask me that one, but I'm sure he expected that sort of dedication from me.
I get there the next morning, and he tells me that dates and where, and I said I couldn't do some of the dates, his reply being - 'do you have any friends?'
He obviously meant do you have any friends willing to help out for those days, and I thought - 5am, for half of my wage. No, I wouldn't do that - it's insane. And I was only there for an hour on the Sunday, and it came down to my realisation that I would be covering two rounds on the days I had to do, but couldn't, and without a car, delivering to my local area and beyond.
So, to sum it up for you, that's would have involved me walking 10-miles, with 200+ papers over my shoulder, for a maximum of 3-hours pay (the time frame was something the bossman made very clear to me at the end of day one). And that evening I wrote my resignation, as I felt I couldn't do the job, and in fact, I couldn't do the job - the job description said drivers license optional - what a lie.
Well, that's something I went into too much detail about and I'm tired now, so what I wanted to talk about will no doubt errupt again on another evening.
Thanks TAG for inspiring me to start doing this again. I'll see you soon, and Master, I hope I filled you in slightly about my short stint in employment. We should start writing again, but I think we're probably too busy for that sort of thing. Who knows...
Carpe diem, until next time bloggers...
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