Friday, September 01, 2006

We have a new cash machine, all shiny on the outside ... and just as disfunctional on the inside where it really counts.

Our tills are randomly refusing to offer people who pay using a debit card the opportunity for cash back.

On the upside we're no longer 'enjoying' the unique scent that is Eau de Dead Rat now that we have a shiny new cash machine.

Building services have been down to put new barrels in the locks of the staff lockers so our newer employees can have somewhere to safely stow their meagre possessions while they're at work.

I was away over the long-weekend so missed the minor volcanic eruption (or equivalent thereof) when the Sex Pest discovered quite how little the Hairdo had accomplished when left to her own devices running the store.

Hairdo's son tied the knot during a break in the weather over the long weeke-end, and the mother of the groom is reported to have looked fabulous.

Since the office supervisor has resigned, responsibility for the boring crap will now formally be vested in Corporal Jones. Don't Panic!

The Sex Pest had to work the long weekend and has spent the few days in the company of his Lap Top (computer, not dancer) and his laminator.

Shortly coming to a wall somewhere in the building is a notice headed "Seasonal Staff" which then goes on to tell everyone that they need to give four months notice of any intention to take leave during peak periods (for demand, he means).

We have a compulsive graffiti-ist. I'm informed that the walls of the warehouse, the men's staff toilet and the corridor from the upper warehouse to the service lift are adorned with little messages calling into question the sexuality of a member of staff who works in our greengrocery staff.

He's about to leave us to go to University. I guess if the abuser is a permanent member of staff, he or she will only turn on another target once the current one leaves.

I could be a sex pest, but I'm not that desperate and there is absolutely no eye-candy. Some mysterious line has been crossed and the younger members of staff are now too young. They look like children from the perspective of my advancing years.

The only men of more mature age are the Sex Pest, Daft Dave, Clive the Drooller (who is in charge of trollies and baskets) and Mummy's Boy. Enough said? Oh there is Erik the Viking but he's spoken for.

Posh customer called up for his wife's particular tipple and had to leave empty handed because someone's knicked the last bottles in store of that particular line of sherry. Nothing with which to ply the Vicar in that particular household this weekend.

How do I know? Because our uber-reliable computer system says we still have two bottles in stock; two bottles will not be in the warehouse so if they're not on the shelves someone's swiped them.

Summer staff are about to bugger off (back to college or university) and no-one has any idea how much recruiting we can do - or where the hell we might do it.

Takings are tailing off after what's been a poor summer. The weather was tremendous in July but less than wonderful in August; people weren't so inclined to visit us at the weekends either to sail or take advantage of our gorgeous waterfront scenes and gleaming golden beach.

The engineers have just about completed the job of installing the freezer/chiller cabinet monitoring system only a couple of months after work commenced. It will be a great comfort to everyone to hear as we probably soon will that we now have a system in place to tell us if temperatures rise towards problematic levels in our freezer/chiller cabinets.


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