The first years of stocktaking were performed when the shop was closed. We would take one or two days and finish within the timescale given by Head Office. Extra volunteers were called in and everybody had a pleasant time working together to get the job done. It all changed the year Head Office announced that all shops were to stocktake while being open and that they were expected to maintain the same standard of customer service. The reason given was that we were losing too much money while being closed.
Up until then, adding machine cords were loosely taped to the floor because we all knew where to stand and when to jump over. This could not be done with customers around – it was health and safety risk. Customers would be now walking into a shop that was full of people standing around with adding machines in their hands. Even with everything now taped down, it was still a tripping hazard and often children were in the store also.
One of the people in the group of pairs would be pulling books and CDs from shelves and turning everything else upside down to take note of the price, before shouting it out to their partner who would be adding them up.
Owning to the need for complete accuracy, spoken words often needed to be clarified, verified and checked all over again. This made each floor quite noisy and not the ideal atmosphere for a browsing shopper. They often felt guilty for having to interrupt us to ask a question or even to purchase an item. And that was no easy task either! All purchasing customers had to tell the cashier whether the item they were buying had been counted or not. If they were on the first floor, we would say something like,
“Can you please tell the cashier downstairs that the book in your right hand has been counted, but the one in your left has not? Thanks.”
Through no fault of their own, some people got the instructions muddled up and said the opposite. Also, because we were open for business, the customer was under no obligation to dash straight to the downstairs till and therefore, they had every right to continue browsing before making their payment. Often, they would pause on the mezzanine floor to look at the cards. By the time they reached the ground floor they had forgotten what they had been told. Because of this, we had discrepancies in our final figures, and I don’t think that our accounting was ever accurate.
All in all, having to do such an important task while continuing to be open for business, seemed ludicrous. We respected the authority of our head office but did not agree with their reasoning. If anything, it probably hindered sales in the long run, because it was a bad example to customers: our attention was not fully on them, the shop was in a mess with some shelves totally covered by a cloth, they could clearly see it was a tripping hazard and it must have seemed very unprofessional that we were relying on them to tell us whether or not an item had been counted.
After a particularly gruelling stocktaking Friday, Casper was not looking forward to the weekend because we were not making sufficient progress and it meant he had no choice but to ‘forget the Sabbath day and keep it working’. He had even been encouraged to work on a Sunday by Archie and the pressure to succeed was heavy upon his shoulders.
I felt sorry for Casper because Archie seemed to revel in the fact that his shop was doing better than Casper’s, and his shop made more profit.
What tipped Casper over the edge to give up his ‘Sabbath rest’, was when Archie was boasting about how on top of things he was and then casually commented that it was because he sometimes works on a Sunday. As soon as he said this, I could feel the guilt digging into Casper’s spirit. The kind of guilt that accuses one of not being as diligent as others. The kind of guilt that says, ‘You are lazier than me.’
Archie ended with the sentence,
“Not that I’m telling you to do that of course.”
But the damage was already done. Yet again, the knife had been dug in deep and Casper had no choice but to prove his dedication to the job by giving up his precious day of rest.
On the Saturday of stocktaking week, Anthony wanted to have fun and decided to get up to no good. He took it upon himself to deface a photo Casper’s lovely wife, Ellie. On the ground floor computer, he began delving into files that he had no business being in and he came across a few private photos of Casper’s. They were lovely snaps and Ellie looked radiant; nevertheless, Casper came back into work on the Monday to discover he was now married to a red-eyed woman with black teeth and a ginger beard.
Anthony hadn’t meant to offend; he just didn’t realise he’d gone too far. However, this act of disrespect had pushed Casper ‘off the brink’ and quite understandably, he wasn’t in the right place for suffering fools gladly.
One by one, customers poured into the shop, hopping over wires and feeling a little ignored because we were not our usual attentive selves. My banking days had installed in me the importance of greeting customers as soon as they entered and to ensure they felt they were being given appropriate attention.
But here, in order to concentrate on the calling and counting, this was impossible. We couldn’t be shouting out prices and calling over to customers at the same time. We couldn’t put down our adding machines and go over to them.
One of our regulars was a lady who was as large in personally as she was in size. A few months earlier she had looked at me critically and asked if I had lost weight. One should not say such things to somebody who comes from a genetically skinny family. Yes, I was small with twig limbs, but did not appreciate this being pointed out. To me, this is pressing a button I do not want to be pressed. Tell me I look like I’ve gained weight and I’ll be your best friend. As weird as this is to most people, all natural ‘skinnies’ understand this. Just as I was about to answer her, she glared at me intensely and interjected loudly by shouting,
“Eat!”
To say I was angry is an understatement. This was one of those moments when I knew I had surpassed Casper in the quest to murder a customer. I forgave her, eventually, as God instructs us to, but I was never keen on being around her after that.
This lady decided that today she would give us a visit. She had always loved attention and quickly caught on that she could easily have the upper hand. We were too busy for silly questions and she knew it. We were too busy for any questions at all, so she decided she would ask us as many as she could think of. My sleeves had been rolled up, so I quickly pulled them down so she could not notice my bony elbows. At one point, I realised that her feet were near a strip of cord from an adding machine. “Umm, should I unstick the tape?” God jolted my conscience and I remembered that I had already forgiven her, so those kinds of thoughts were not to be entertained.
She came to the counter and asked me to look up an item on our computer. Casper was busy working on the desk opposite and clenched his teeth. He knew about the previous incident I had had with her, and like me, he had always hated her loudness. She picked up on the tense atmosphere and seemed delighted. As I swivelled round on the stool to tell her the price of the item she was enquiring about, she bellowed another question at me. Then another and another. And another still. I kept my calm, but I could feel Casper getting very edgy.
In her hands was one of our promotional brochures and she was on the psychology page.
“Umm…” she mused, “Getting… Anger… Under… Control…, by Neil T. Anderson. Sounds like a good book. Yes, I’ll have one of those. Did you hear that? I want you to order me a copy of the one you’ve just looked up and this anger book by Neil Anderson.”
Casper could stand it no longer. Naturally, it is of no concern to a customer that the staff of the shop they are in, are very busy. The fact that they are trying to concentrate on their stocktake is of little consequence to them. If we are open, they quite rightly expect to be served, even if they are being demanding.
But our manager was struggling with this fact and could only see the mounting paperwork that was left to sort out after we had all gone home.
He fixed his eyes on the woman while speaking loudly to me in the hope that she would realise he was referring to her. He yelled,
“Order one for me as well would you please!
His gaze was still on her.
I buckled into fits of laughter. The woman, presumably thick-skinned, did not react to this comment.
She ignored the remark and wandered upstairs to find another victim, leaving me relieved that she didn’t try to shove a doughnut into my mouth before she departed.
Casper’s irate quip may not have done the trick, but it certainly still makes me chuckle to this day.
