[Fiction] Life behind the cash register, and other possibilities:
A proper mental Saturday it is, what with New Sue off with her hernia and the Lukes of Hazzard gone AWOL, so Muggins Here’ll have to cover for everyone else’s break. Not New Sue and Beverly are still giving me the silent treatment ‘cause I can’t let them take the bank holiday off, but it’s water off a duck’s back by this point. By ten o’clock the queues are looping back, and it’s like all Greenland’s one of those swilling dreams you get with ‘flu. Full of eyes, drilling into me. Philpotts can’t get close enough to fire off a ‘What are half your team doing without their name-badges, Pearl?’ but I need the loo – no chance, not ‘til all the breaks are over. This beardy customer’s spitting, ‘Twenty-three minutes I’ve been in this queue!’ I tell him, ‘It certainly is a busy morning’ so in he leans, breath all pilchardy, and says, “Then hire – more – staff!”, like I’m backwards, like Gary used to do sometimes.
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