It was my last day at B&Q, and god did I hate this place. I usually used to spend the day, whatever assignment I had been given out in the car park collecting trolleys. It was easier work and whoever was supposed to be doing the job didn't mind me tagging along. If a supervisor came looking for me I would just say I was told to help the trolley man, by some woman I didn't know the name of. Then they would obviously put me on the tills as they thought I was skiving, perish the thought.
God I hated those tills, scanning crap for hours, with the odd accidental mishap of putting the card no in wrong before pretending to throw the receipt into the bin. Then I would do their item again, taking close note of the person name. This was all before chip n pin and even the 3 letter code on the back of the card came in as security measures due to people like me and my friends.
I had one mate who was homeless at the time and he used to just search bins for thrown away receipts then he would ring up a hotel and book a night in an expensive room with their card no and name, no signature required just the expiry date. He was the most luxurious homeless sleeper I knew for sure.
God it was so easy to scam, the receipt had the full card no on it and all I had to do was write down the persons name I had remembered as they walked off on the “thrown away” receipt. Then before the weekend, my girlfriend who worked at a computer company, would have sent a nice expensive PC, paid over the phone of course with nothing to sign for, to my mates bedsit. It was easy money money money, but I compared to all the telling offs and the stupid health n safety video's they made us watch every now and then, it was hell on earth.
I could make easier money running, and on my last day, as my bird pulled up in her limited edition Mazda, with only 24 of them ever made, after they had won the Le Mans 24 hour race, in sickly green and yellow colours she had paid to be spray painted pure black. I took a final look at the B&Q that had moved across the road to the new business park, the one that was going to be a cinema and restaurants, just like the business park before that and the one before that at the BVR roundabout where they always put shops instead.
You have to ask why the cops and residents of Farnborough wonder what causes the high anti social behaviour and crime rate in the town, when the kids have nowhere to go. Ending up wandering the streets all night on ACID, setting fire to their local school after looting a local shop of booze, and having fights outside chip shops.
I think the Speedy's we always munched at, watching the chequered floor rise and fall high on LSD, had finally got fed up of us coming in wankered and asking for the cumofsumyungi. One night we got in a fight with a 40 year old man and I had chased him into the shop and instantly ran back out as the staff had quickly handed the bloke two knives from the kitchen.
Yeah they hated us. I can still remember those knives, one had blue sticking tape on the grip the other red, chicken or veg I suppose, or in this instance, a pissed up 18 years olds arse cheek or chest. However we still got the last laugh and his Rolex watch which had come off his wrist as he threw useless punches outside the vegetable allotments on Fernhill road.
I remember it clearly as we all stood in a group watching him roar and walk down the road towards us with both knives held high in the air. A car pulled up behind him, we all thought it was Quang our Vietnam mate, who was so thick he was the only kid to drive to school as he was 17 and still in the 5th year. However we were happily surprised when the old bill turned there lights on and nicked him there and then.
What did they expect us to do when every new “Cinema complex” always turned out to be a new shopping complex with B&Q moving about from one to another, always bigger and bigger stores. I hated the god damn place and most of the people as well. Apart from the girls that was. There were some pretty fit girls there, I have to admit. I guess that's why my girlfriend "insisted" on picking me up in her car after work to ensure I didn't accidentally wander off with the kinky boots, refund manager that was always coming on to me.
I got in my girlfriends car, and she scooted over to the passenger side to let me drive. That was the bargain struck if she came to pick me up, I got to drive home. I stuck my finger up and wheel skidded off out the car park, with the back end swinging about as I hand-braked onto the main drag and got up to nearly 70 before the roundabout.
I had left my letter of resignation on the bosses table before leaving. It had taken me hours to write, and I was very happy to hear that the very next weekend before opening, when everyone had to sit on this little grandstand seating thing and listen to our job assignments, that the manager had happily read my letter out.
I had used the thesaurus in Word for almost every word over four letters long and tried to make it as sarcastic as possible, I hope they enjoyed reading it, I certainly enjoyed writing it. It said:
"Dear What's your name (sorry never took note),
Whilst I appreciate the generous opportunity to learn valuable life skills working at B&Q it has sadly come to an end. However the profound knowledge I've gained, based on the various paint colours and all too exciting hammer manufacturers is going to be etched deeply into my brain and used forever more in whatever area of employment I choose in future. However whilst this cognition has been enlightening, I have come to the determination that this priceless vacancy you have afforded me is no longer in my best interests.
I am sure that the vast experience of pushing trolleys around the car park all day will stand me in good stead with future employers, especially computer programmers who will certainly recognise the life skills such a technical job has provided for me.
The long hours of standing behind a till and listening to inarticulate customers who I really could not give less of a flying sexual act about, will help me in any future endeavour that I go on to experience in the job market.
Your work place has a been a fountain of knowledge and the skills I have picked up are worthy for any future vacancy I will hopefully not find myself having to ever take on.
I could just say your job was pure shite, but I am above such levity and uncouth remarks, and instead I will just say I find all of your management skills and training well beneath the lowest bar that I would ever find myself needing to lower myself if ever gainfully employed.
Despite this I wish you no ill will and hope that you all learn as much as I did from this electrifying job position.
Please all take note of what you are told, as every shouting at and belittling by a dense manager too untrained to get a proper skilled job is a lesson to be kept and learnt buried deep within your brains membranes.
Enjoy those customers when they moan at you at the till, because if you are clever enough you will have already taken advantage of them by now. If not I feel sorry for your life skills, blah blah blah blah, much appreciation and lots of kisses of gratitude to the girls I made out with in the greenhouse.
Rob."
When Jamie’s sister Kerry told me they had actually read my resignation letter out before the daily prep talk the week after I had to laugh. It was a total piss take but seemingly one that a job at B&Q deserved and found appealing enough to read to their staff to get them revved up for the day ahead.
I never worked behind a till or pushed a trolley again thank God, and I hope I will never will end up like the OAP's B&Q hired to stand by the front door welcoming people into the store, or checking receipts and thanking people for their custom on the way out.
What a bunch of stupid under paid numpties.
© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
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