My banged up Fiat Punto was my guardian angel
AS hospitality and nonessential retail premises open back up again, I’m filled with second-hand dread on behalf of the staff of these places.
When I worked in the sports shop, it was hard enough to psych myself up to go back to work after even just a rare Sunday off, never mind after having been on furlough for several months.
The feeling was akin to the last day of the summer holidays when I was at school. That horrible heavy knot in your stomach, like something was stuck in it, a big lead weight.
Constantly thinking of ways tomorrow could be delayed or harebrained schemes to get just one more day off.
Saying to yourself over and over again that it won’t be that bad but at the same time thinking there’s nothing you’d rather do less than go back to work.
I’ve been thinking about the ways in which I used to try and get time off work. There was the classic sore heid/sore belly/been up aw night being sick combo, perhaps even a smattering of diarrhoea, explained on the phone using a special sick-sounding voice 10 minutes before my shift started but that was too obvious.
A note here on sounding sick when you phone into work – if you hang upside down off the side of your bed you can make this sound a lot more convincing, combined with the gravelly voice of the hangover you’re trying to conceal it makes you sound like you’re dying.
The best thing that ever happened to me with regard to having plausible excuses for not going into work was getting a motor.
My first car was a 2001 Fiat Punto which was a death trap. Extremely unreliable and temperamental, it helped me get later starts and days off on a handful of occasions. They key to taking advantage of this was to regularly make jokes to my boss about how bad the motor was so,
when the time came, the reason for my lateness or absence would be believable.
“Ye won’t believe this, mate,” I’d say, from bed. “The motor won’t start.”
“Just get a taxi then,” my boss would reply.
“Ehhh, I’ve nae money.” I could hear him sigh down the line. “You stay five minutes away, Chris. Just walk then.”
I’d take this as an opportunity to have a leisurely morning. I’d still drive to work but would make a nice breakfast beforehand now I’d gained an extra half an hour or so. I didn’t get the day off but I’d at least reduced the length of my shift. It was still a win.
Then there was the “I’ve broke down on the motorway, I’m just waiting on the AA. They said it’ll be a couple of hours”. There were flat tires, there were lost keys, there was smoke coming from the engine. All lies designed to get me out of work. There were times though where I knew nothing would work. At Christmas for example when I knew we’d be short staffed if I didn’t go in, meaning my pals would be overworked and more stressed out than they needed to be because they were a man down. And also that no matter what was wrong, the bosses would demand you went in anyway.
Those were the days where I’d wake and will something genuinely terrible to happen to me. I’d go down the stairs and think to myself, well, if I fell down these and broke my legs nobody could blame me for being off.
I’d go in the shower and think well, nobody could blame me for being off if shampoo got in my eyes and made me blind. I’d drive to work and think well, nobody could blame me for being off if I were to be struck by lightning.
I can’t fathom how much of a downer I’d be on if I was going back to work after so long off, even without a pandemic still raging on.
I had a bad attitude towards customers at the best of times.
I was just so used to people being rude to me that I started to be preemptively rude to everyone.
I remember one particularly heated exchange with a customer who asked which shoes we had for sale would be good for walking.
I recommended running shoes to her as they were very cushioned and comfortable. “Why would I want running shoes when I won’t be running?” she asked.
A back and forth between us ensued and, in the end, a complaint was made about me and she left the shop empty handed, vowing to never return.
I believe the thing that put her over the edge was me paraphrasing Nancy Sinatra and screaming, “Every shoe is made for walking!”
I salute all the retail and hospitality workers heading back to work, god bless you all.
If you’re needing a day off anytime soon, just remember you can lie your way into getting one no bother.