In my days working for a D.I.Y. chain it was difficult to take a lunch break, so different from the department stores where an hour and a bit strolling up & down the High Street was seldom missed.
Nevertheless one time I was expecting a visit from the firm’s executives to see how I was faring in this out of town environment. I had worked in Department Stores for 12 years previously.
The day before I had popped into my local the VILLAGE GREEN public house for a steadying pint. The bar maid was Mandy. I knew her surname because she had worked in my store for years before me, but moved when her marriage broke up. She professed her dislike of children, which didn’t ring true as she gained custody of all 5 of the children affected by the divorce.
Despite her domestic problems she was always bright and breezy, greeting me with
“Hullo Bob ! The usual is it?”.
I went for a pint mostly once a week and passed the time of day with the regulars and Hilda, the other barmaid. Hilda was the mother of Sonia one of my shelf fillers, so I was careful what I said whilst supping my Courage Best.
Any way, the day of the visit came, the V.I.P.s came enjoyed looking around my D.I.Y store, making favourable comments & declaring it
“A store that well run & interesting to browse around”
Then one of them, general manager then , later main board director, asked me to escort them to a decent pub with food. I assured them that I hardly ever went out for lunch but I knew of a good pub, the VILLAGE GREEN.
So we drove in convoy the 500 yards or so to the pub. MANDY welcomed me in & trilled.
“Hullo Bob, you in again”
at which & to my relief my colleagues burst out into raucous laughter. .My boss put his hand on my shoulder and said,
“What’ll you have to drink Bob”
MANDY chirruped
“I have it here, a pint of Courage Best your usual Bob"
and so she did.“Your usual!”
During lunch Mandy periodically gave me soppy forced smiles , thumbs up signs & little waves.
Such simple days now marred by the fact that such an entourage would have to walk the 500 yards to the pub, or nominate a couple of fellows with a sobrietus disposition.
In my days at GRACE BROS, I met a good number of famous people in the course of my work. Signing Sessions for Authors, B list celebs opening a new franchise, department or product, all came my way.
Percy Thrower, Geoff Love, great bloke, Larry Grayson, Margaret Powell, Sir Francis Chichester, Pat Phoenix, Dustin Gee & the other one, Rod Hull & Emu, & loads of others whose names I can’t recall. Frederick Forsythe, Lesley Thomas, Dick Frances, loads more.
I recall though, now looking back, the staff & customers were generally more interesting.
I’ll put my thinking cap on & post some on Confessions of a retired shopkeeper.
One of my colleagues had a double life while his mother was alive. Poor man was treated like a girl by his butch mother, dressing him as a girl until he went to school. Whether this helped him in his decision to secretly bat for the other side or his predilection to dress up and listen with fellow music lovers to Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky or something else but when the mother died he had no need to pretend anymore & went off the rails. He took to wearing gold lame catsuits & the last I heard of him was that he had gone to MILAN to work as an Au Pare to an opera singer
I’m enjoying this, Robert. It’s nice that some people can start up their own personal threads without fear of being called narcissists - it’s just good, old-fashioned recollections that are enjoyable to read Your opening post was especially most welcome to read through during my night shift last night
Please read my post again, Robert. On the contrary mate. I was complimenting you but you didn’t see it that way. And I did enjoy your posts too. Ho hum.
Shame people don’t understand me.
One day when we were young in the '60s my husband and I ran a General Store.
We sold absolutely everything from Food to Reels Cotton and Knicker Elastic, Sweets and Tobacco, Paraffin. Bags of Coal and Firewood and Bacon on the Bone, Fresh Bread Cheese, Ice Cream, Chemist Sundries.and ‘Something for the Weekend Sir’
Men usually waited to be served my husband discretely, for something in a ‘Brown Paper Bag’. Kept in the back room.
Well one day a man a regular customer came in and was looking around for some time
“Can I help you I asked” “Is your husband not here?” said he
“No! he is away today”
“Is there something I can get you”
Well, he said sheepishly, it is usually in a Brown paper bag.
“Oh! I know” I said cheerfully, They are in the back".
How many would you like?! “Three please,” he said looking relieved to see that I was not embarrassed.
No men referred to contraceptives them by their name in those days. It was always soto voiced by my husband.
Later however they knew that I would always serve them discretely too.
I’ve just copped this RJ.
Great start to the series, nicely put together, I could almost taste the beer and smell the soup in the Village Green, looking forward to more episodes in your own good time.
Sounds a nice cosy clean little pub that Village Green, unlike the pub Flann O’ Brien refers to in his work “The Brother”
“They have lino on the floor now in Kenny’s Bar I believe, and he got a lovely clean married woman in to make the sandwiches, sure there’s nothing as bad as thumb marks on bread”
There sure ain’t Flann, except maybe curly hairs in the butter.
I used to sell typewriters in Grace Brothers (JLP), way back in the day. I was demonstrating an Olivetti lettera 32 to a glamorous gal, when her elderly partner interrupted with a question.
“We spend the winter in France. Can you supply one with french letters?”
I ignored him. He wandered on to the sports department & I was informed later that he had a question for them too.
"i’d like to exchange a tennis racquet, for my wife.
“Seems fair” said the manager.
Your opening post was especially most welcome to read through during my night shift last night 
