Even though our shop was in the heart of the city, it was grubby in places that could not be easily cleaned. Apart from the two main display windows at the front of the shop, the other glass panels were protected by steel bars on the outside. Therefore, they were inaccessible to window cleaners.
All the apertures were a sash design which were so stiff, they required two hands to ease them upwards and it took every ounce of bicep strength to open them even 5 centimetres high. Because the air inside the shop was thick, muggy and hot, Trudy and Casper regularly got their morning workouts forcing them open – but they were so filthy, I refused to touch them. So, haven’t I heard of soap and water? Judge me as you wish – you never saw the state they were in nor will you understand my pathetic excuses for giving them a wide berth.
Being an old building, when it became hot, it was stifling and customers on the first floor regularly complained. Head Office were refurbishing some branches and told us to be patient, reminding us once more that:
“We are a charity.”
The summer of 2005 was a scorcher, so during this time, Casper placed a thermometer on the first floor, and its dial was most often past the 34-degree mark. Yes, it was sweltering, and we panted like Boston Terriers.
Near the till area, there was a door and immediately behind this, were the stairs that lead up to the third floor. At the bottom of these stairs was a small window, so we began wedging the door open to try to get a little breeze inside.
This provided some light relief and it prevented customers from having fainting spells while browsing. However, it was a fire door, so technically, it should have been left shut.
One day after several calls to ‘the managers up north’, a surveyor was sent to assess the situation. Unfortunately for us, we decided to put fear of man before honesty. This is not a criticism – it is so easy for one to make the wrong decision out of worry that another issue will be raised. You see, we did not want to be chided for leaving a fire door ajar; after all, that in itself is a health and safety risk, and so we shut the stair door before the assessor arrived. The temperature dial shot up to 37.5 degrees. And our plan backfired.
As the inspector wiped his beady brow, he winked at Trudy and said,
“I tell you what, I’ve got a solution to this heat problem. Open that door to get some air in and you’ll all feel much better. I know it’s a fire door but keeping it open will help cool the room down. Given the circumstances, I think in this case we can make an exception.”
He gleamed with satisfaction while writing out his report, and Trudy opened and closed her mouth like a fish.
“Er…well… we do actually… we do leave it open…usually.”
It was too late. He believed he had found our remedy and left with a skip in his step.
It wasn’t just the windows that gave us a workout. Every morning, we had to contend with another irksome piece of apparatus:
The gate.
Heavier, chunkier and rougher than the wood that framed the windows, was a slatted contraption we had to move every morning and replace at the close of business. The shop’s front door was inset and placed at an angle. Infront of this was a small, tiled recess/doorway. A large gate had to be placed on the outside of this area to prevent people from using it for sleeping, as a toilet or a place to vomit.
The gate was attached to a metal clasp on the surrounding brickwork, and it was secured with a large padlock. It was shoulder height (I’m 5ft 6”) and we had to place our hands between the slats then drag it through the shop.
First of all, it would be propped up against the wall while the burglar alarm was deactivated. Then it was dragged across the ground floor and down 3 steps, before being placed inside our tiny store cupboard where we kept our customer orders that were awaiting collection. It made such a racket as it banged down the steps, but it was too sturdy to break.
Casper managed to move it with ease but Trudy, Sophie and I, found it cumbersome. To me, it felt like it weighed a ton, but I guess if that was true, we would have all been auditioning for ‘The World’s Strongest Christian’. It was especially hard trying to get it up the 3 steps in the evening and it took the strongest stomach muscles to heave it back onto a flat surface. Nevertheless, it served its purpose and I rarely needed to fetch the mop and bucket for the doorway – when I did, it was only to clean up a discarded cheeseburger.
With regards to my fingers, I did receive the occasional splinter, but all in all, I look back at the gate with fond memories, as it truly was a useful monstrosity.
For me, and I suspect the rest of the team would agree, the worst part of our building was undoubtedly, ‘Alcatraz’. I shall tell you more about that later.
