My Last Saturday

Today was my last Saturday at Somerfield Ilkeston. I awoke feeling as awake as I usually do at 5am on a Saturday morning after only 4hrs sleep. The temperature in the room had hit over 30 degrees during the night. The window found itself being flung open, I was engulfed by the cold morning air. After shouting at an irritating airbourne pest I needed an injection of world news and political events. BBC News 24 was as usual informing me of all the boring events that are never interesting enough to make the regular daytime news slots. I organised myself and tooled up my pockets, it was time for sustinance.

The fridge didn’t yield a great deal and without considerable preparation nothing was going to make a hearty breakfast. A caffine hit from a glass of coke and a warm pitta bread would have todo.

The cool morning air filled me with so much aggression I could have ripped an innocent passer by to pieces with my bare hands. However, this not being the wisest course of action I channeled my thoughts into focus for the day. The cemetary was quiet, the whips of mist drifting between the graves. Yet again i was dissapointed not to see the Slayer returning home after an evening of ridding Ilkeston of Vampires.

A woman stood outside the corner shop. Not achieveing a great deal apart from corrupting her lungs with the cancer stick between her lips. The main road was quiet and this saved me from having to file an interrupt request at the traffic lights. The opposite side of the road contained several young chaps, either retuning from a night out or upto no good.

I gazed accross the car park, deserted as usual. Then shock, it couldn’t be, not at this time. But yes it was true the shutter was up and Tony was in store at 5:55am. 5 mins early, methinks that he had been there longer. The papers still lay outside.

I collected myself and organised the trollies as normal. Depositing some devices into my locker I was ready to begin.

The warmth of the store was too much, the oils began to rise to the surface of my skin. A sticky feeling, choking my movements. Furthur discomfort came from my shoes, the internal structure has begun to break down. I overcame this as the niggling lump was compacted by the constant pounding of my feet.
I was just finishing illuminating the freezers when the first of many calls at the back door sounded. The shutter ascended revealing two wehicles. The first a slightly battered reasonably sized green van, the second a great beast of a lorry. I sounded a call of “Mornin’ Chaps”. I was greeted with “What time do you call this, I’ve been here for half an hour”. Nothing quite like the forceful humour of Adrian the British Bakeries driver.

The driver of the Somerfield lorry wasn’t quite as talkative. He seemed stuck in his own little world. In a way he was. Spending a lengthy period of time in the back of a 40 foot lorry on a regular basis had obviously affected him.

Next to arrive was the milk, the driver of this vehicle seemed able todo his job adequately. He also seems to have a weak bladder, I deduce this from the fact that each week he requests the use of our toilet. We were missing 15 single pints of whole milk today. I guess they couldn’t read the delivery note where the item was printed over the header. I was able to read it easily. There must be some ver incompetant people out there.

My nemesis John appeared on the scene. He is not the brightest person you could ever meet but he always tries to do you out of some bread. It’s like he is on commision or something. Today however he got confused by his own delivery note. For once he didn’t say I was useless and couldn’t do my job. This might have been due to me having a chat with him in previous weeks and making sure he knew I was not going to be messed about. I don’t have to worry about ever having to see him again.

Eventually the Warbutons van arrived. This was not without its problems. The 48 tea cakes which were ordered were nowhere to be seen. Why one customer would want that many tea cakes is beyond me. Perhaps she wanted to make some kind of raft to use in an outdoor pool. It’s unlikely I shall ever know.

Whilst I was shelving the bread I was reassigned by Mike. Half a Job Mike (HJM) had begun to work produce due to lack of other staff. But he had become bored. Mainly because he had nobody to talk to. I was pointed to a pile of things he had left. Damn the extra Iceberg lettuce for being in the bottom two boxes. Mike claimed he had to go “Manage” the store, a lame excuse. I find his habbit of raising his hand at you when he has had enough of you talking off putting. Still I carry on spouting my rubbish until he begins to walk off. When I speak I expect people to listen.*

*NOTE: This does not apply to when I am spouting complete and utter rubbish. I won’t subject anybody to that against their will.

The warehouse was full of stock, this was not a good way to start the day. If it was worked more during the week this wouldn’t happen. Still a bunch of “willing” troops awaited. They were about as willing to work as a mouse is to run through an alley on hungry cats. With a crack of the whip, they stood to attention (well they looked round). They were allocated a process list and told to get on with it. They did.

Grant the fountain of all common sence (<<— Thats sarcasm for any of you dumbasses who didn’t notice), needed what can only be described as a swift kick up the arse to get moving. He eventually got slightly paranoid, angry, irritable when the general opinion in the warehouse was that he was gay. The thing is if people have a key in their back why not wind them up and let them go.

I was nearing completion of my section when my resources were required else where. I was originally assigned to help Tony at 12:30, however the critical chain changed things and I first had to open all the packs of Pepsi. This was down to them “All” going to sell today. I noted a large quantity left at 4pm.

The rest of the day was not as exciting as it could have been. I helped out on non-food. Not that I was really needed there. I could have been more productive in other areas. Still it was a chance to apply myself to something other than the mind destroying repetitiveness of putting stock on shelves.

Lunch today consisted of a Pasta and Cheese Salad. Don’t ask me why but it did. Once again I was moaned at for my choice of food. Today is was too cheesy. Well ofcourse it was, it was a cheese salad. If it wasnt cheesy I would be very upset and consider talking to trading standards. The canteen was rather full today. A collection of people for once their breaks overlapping slightly.

It was a relaxing lunch apart from when Hollie removed her hair grip and showed off a cascade of long hair. That raised my blood pressure a little. I know I know, she is too young for me. I need to stop thinking that way. But she did look stunning. Swiftly moving on. Jennah recently back of her hols was supporting a tan worthy of the Duke, David Dickinson. Scott got more than he bargained for (<<– see what i did there, what a link) when Mike and Andy came into join him. Oddly enough when i asked him how long he had left to his break he was rather keen to leave.

My final hour was mainly spent servicing the card bailer. It had become rather full of card, funny that, card in a card bailer. I was confronted by Di, apparently Sharron has been reading this site. Well done Sharron, you have managed what mighty Mike hasn’t and that is to actually find the site. Back to Di, she had apparently heard I had mentioned in a previous post that she was short. Well I only tell the truth on this site, and not meaning it nastily, it is infact true. However Di does have a strong singing voice which can be heard in the early morning when she is on the bread isle. Sometimes, if your one of the lucky few to see, she will acompany the singing with a bit of a dance. This woman needs to be on stage. She is a wasted tallent working at Somerfield.

I also had to point out the health and safety risk of the dragging a wet mop the length of 2 isles in an attempt to clear up spillage to Rajiv. The resulting wetness was worse than the spill itself. Queue the blue paper to dry it all up. “There are limits to genius but not stupidity”.

For a final Saturday it wasn’t too bad. A nice mixture of routine and assorted tasks. At least I don’t have to worry about those early get ups anymore.

Somerfield News
  1. I shall be making my final appearance on Wednesday 16th July 2003 between 12-5pm. Then you lucky lot are rid of me. I have enjoyed my time there and I have made loads of friends. I will miss you all.

  2. Mike is also scheduled to leave. Well good luck Mike where ever you end up. Lets just hope its not in a shallow grave after some physcho cult removes your spinal cord. (Note to Self: Stop thinking sick thoughts)

Thoughts for Today
1. Why was Jennah behaving oddly in the canteen?
2. Will Gaz ever be normal?
3. Might it be possible for Grant to be the source of all common sense?
4. Why in a pasta and cheese salad is there more carrot than anything else?
5. How much damage would one person sustain if crushed in the card bailer?
6. Did Mike really spend 5hrs at Heanor or was he off on some sort of adventure?
7. Why do we bother mending the packages of non-food items when it is highly unlikely that a customer will buy them?
8. Can Rajiv control the troops in my absence like he did today?
9. Does Andy P. have any say in his life or it he totally ruled by Lisa?
10. Why doesn’t Andy H. get promoted to Manager?
11. How many thoughts can I have in one day?
12. Will Hollie wear her hair down more often?
13. Should I return one day to visit Somerfield?
14. Is the only way to stay cool this summer to stand in the backup freezer?
15. Was my regular expulsion of wind today due to last nights chilli?
Andy P
Lisa does not rule my life she just keeps me a good boy and keeps me going on loving her :D
Well if you say so
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