Wow my net is mega sloooooow today.

[hellzabeth]

Let me tell you a little story about my day at work.

My Sunday shift is a mercifully short 4 hours long, and starts at 2pm. So along I rumble after going to church and having a nice Sunday roast for lunch. It's a nice day, sun's out after the rain this morning. I've just finished putting together the FST for Family Ties. I'm a pretty happy Pidge.

I walk in to the staff area and warehouse at the back of the shop, shrugging off my coat and greeting my boss who is stacking up boxes of booze. "Hola 'Manda." Her name is in fact Amanda, though nobody bothers with the first letter anymore. All's fair, she calls me "Lizzo", and got everyone else to do so too.

"Why you speak Spanish to me haah Lizzo?" she replies in a random Jamaican accent. Business as usual. I go and hang up my coat in the cupboard, and turn to go back out to the front of the shop.

Amanda stands in front of the door. She has a very wide smile on her face. I do not trust this smile. No sane person would.

"... um?"

"Lizzo, I have a special job for you today."

I'm sure you can sympathise with my pang of dread, flist.

"Oh lord what."

She holds up a bucket. It sloshes. She holds up a scourer and a roll of tissues.

"The oven." She says, grin still in place.

"The oven." I repeat dully. Oh god no, please no.

"It needs a clean."

"It needs a clean?"

"There was an accident with an overcooked apple pie this morning." Amanda affirms. "And Glenys is off sick today, so you get a special treat of having to restock the ciggies, serve the customers and, as an added bonus, clean the oven."

I really hate how she's still smiling. If she hadn't given me some of her chocolate biscuits on Saturday, I'd probably hate her as a person. But right now, I just hate that smile.

"Alright."

And that is how I ended up with my head stuck inside a massive metal oven all afternoon, running between that and the till, serving customers. My hands are pruney and everything smells like smoldering apple pie.

I should probably add that the smile Amanda had on was very similar to the one she was giving me when she handed me a sheet of overtime work she'd booked me. 12-6pm on a Monday is fine and all, but it means I can't go over to Nena's until later. Sorry Nena!! ><;; But I need the money... Then I'm working morning shifts all the way round until next Sunday.

/collapses

Comments

[hellzabeth.livejournal.com]

Eh, it wasn't that bad really, my arms just hurt from scrubbing.

Oh dude, that sounds like it sucks, but at least you can probably hear the music/score from there? You could always bring a deck of cards to play or something... I work in a corner shop. It's not that exotic. I serve customers on the till, mainly, though sometimes I put out stock... or clean ovens.

So we already met! I was the England that ended up with ripped trousers so I ran around with my flag for a skirt. Then Spain stole my trousers and played keep-away with them.

[thera7.livejournal.com]

You can sort of hear the music/score - it depends where you're stationed in the stadium, but it's usually all muffled, so you mostly hear a lot of banging and cheers that vibrate the very walls. Insane.
Yeah, I always take books, poetry-writing stuff and cards, and usually you can chat ok, or go patrol if you're going mad from being cooped up.

... Ovens in a corner shop? Now where is Budgens hiding those?! The hot stuff in the shop near me (like apple pies) is kept hot on heated shelves.

Oh, yeah I do remeber seeing a few Englands last time (alway so many Englands!). I was just wearing a bright blue wig and conspired with the two Belarus' present to glomp Russia. Well don't worry, I'll get revenge for you and sink Spain's Armada this time. Who will you be if you come this time?