It wasn't a new job, not really. Telfords stores were all the same, strained and hammered into unerring shapes so that head office planners could marvel at their uniformity and customer-satisfying, predictable layouts. When Jason Carper went through the front door of the St Michaels branch, it would be his first time as an ADM. He would see the sprawling mock market place with its uncharacteristically quiet fishmonger – Jason had always thought their fishmongers should be more classically vocal, calling all and sundry to check out their fresh-water wares. There would be the butchery, the bakery, the candle-stick makery, and the less aptly named produce section, overflowing with potatoes.
It was eight o'clock in the morning, and the store was already open, drawing in the elderly crowds, unsatisfied until their daily newspapers had been placed delicately into their baskets. Jason walked through this, straightening a Primark tie, one he hoped would pass for something more expensive.
There was a roller-cage still a quarter full of bundled papers, partially blocking the entrance and an assistant was still hurriedly snapping open the bundles and plonking them into place for the grey-haired punters. Probably not the boy's fault, Jason acknowledged. Couldn't help it if the papers had been delivered late.
He mumbled his apologies as he circled round the growing throng of paper-chasing customers and entered the market place through the automatic barriers. It was a little different from other stores, by necessity of design. He hadn't noticed it from the outside, but the store was actually incredibly long and narrow, rather than a more consistent rectangle. The market place apparently ran the length of it, with the produce laid out along the middle of the dauntingly long first aisle. The fishmongers, butchery, and candle-stick makery lined it on either side, along with the florist, the rug seller, rucksack vendor, electronics merchant, and phone unlocker. Telford had truly done a marvellous job, as ever, of replicating the classic British market place.
No one knew him yet, so he didn't embarrass himself by wishing them all a good morning, although from tomorrow he most certainly would. It was often conceded at training courses that management didn't do enough to make their staff feel valued, and Jason wouldn't be the one to continue that trend. In fact, he was determined to buck it with extreme prejudice.
The last rounds of fruit and veg were being unpacked – a bit behind schedule, but surely that was to be expected when the store was short an ADM to keep them on their toes? Nothing spectacularly wrong there.
It was a long walk through the market place to the centre aisle, and in retrospect, Jason was now starting to wonder if he shouldn't have started at the checkouts. He would have been more likely to find his contact there, the supervisor he'd been instructed to meet. He looked over his shoulder, but the flow of customers was against him now, an inexorable tide of basket-wielding early morning go-getters desperate for fresh milk and bananas.
He advanced with the rest of them, stepping free of the rush at the far end of the produce section, beside the 'Grab it while its Fab!' section. Fruit and veg on the verge of falling over a precipice into the state of being less than fabulous. And yes, it was missing an apostrophe: par for the course. And of course this wouldn't be his section, so while incorrect punctuation did poke the stickler inside him, he would pass over it without comment.
Next stop, the ambient section. Jason's new domain, land of booze, cereal, DVDs, and light bulbs. It was not to be quite yet, however.
“Jason? Jason Carper?”
There was a small, balding man standing behind him. Now, Jason had never thought of himself as especially tall, but the gremlin that had inexplicably been able to tap him on the shoulder made him feel like a giant. Jason had a perfect view of his bald spot and his pointy nose. The man was wavering expectantly beside him, wearing a department manager's shirt and tie, with Marty on his name badge.
Jason held out his hand. “Yes. Jason Carper.”
Marty shook it excitedly, for a moment even using both hands. “Oh, Jason, I'm thrilled that you're finally here! The store's been in a terrible state with only one deputy manager, and the staff just don't listen, and the warehouse is a mess, and the shelves are empty and just now I had to rescue Chris from the freezer-”
“Marty!” Jason pulled his hand free and gestured for him to calm down.
“I'm sorry Jason, it's just that no one listens to me!” He lowered his voice and signalled for Jason to lean in. “Only two men showed up from night crew last night,” he hissed. “The warehouse is full but the shelves are empty!”
Curiously enough, the customers didn't seem too interested in the exchange going on between the oranges and the fruit juice, but Jason strapped an arm around Marty's shoulder and whisked him away anyway.
“Marty, the place looks fine. Produce, the market place, the counters, all fine.”
“Oh well, yes, that's because Natalie manages all those, and the chilled sections. Ambient is in such a state.”
Jason stood tall, rallying his management skills for the coming moments. “Show me,” he commanded. Jason set off down the centre aisle in long, confident strides, as Marty scuttled along behind him.
“Just brace yourself, boss. You've not seen anything like this before!”
Next Time on Telford:
NERF GUN TURF WARS
(A work of fiction, any similarity to real people is purely coincidental.
Inspired by personal experience, and the suggestion of a particular ADM.)
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