Payback

I once worked as a greengrocery manager for a supermarket chain in a small town somewhere in England. We had a store manager who was a little Hitler given half a chance. One of his nick names was ‘hot-n-cold’ because he was either as nice as pie or he was ranting lunatic. He was marginally less popular than a pair of barbed wire underpants and about as welcome as a fart in a diving bell. 1

The greengrocery department staff were not his favorite people but as he could find fault with Mother Teresa we did not lose any sleep. 2

To set the scene, the greengrocery prep room was small so that some of the spare stock was kept out in the yard in a lock up cage with a floor space capable of taking six pallets. That week honeydew melons were on special offer at a very good price, they were also larger than usual. There were only nine in a box instead of the usual twelve.3

Sales had been brilliant but this was still not good enough for HnC who, as usual, just picked holes. He had been so hard on the greengrocers that other department heads had commented to which the usual reply was:4

“Oh, well, our turn this week; it will be yours next week.” 5

Because sales of the aforementioned specimen yellow melons had been so good I ordered one hundred cases for delivery Friday which was our best trading day. To help sales I had a table display in the first aisle which I put to melons as well as the area on my counter and an end dump. I knew it was going to be a good day because it was the end of the month and folks had been paid so I thought,6

“Go for it!”7

Early Friday morning before the store opened (They were not twenty four hours in those days) the lorry rolled in and my staff and I unloaded it and took what we could out to the shop floor to put it out. We took no melons because the table and counter had old stock from yesterday and I wanted to clear some first. 8

We finished the counter and were clearing rubbish before putting the load away when the governor came round checking up. Now, I had separated the melons from the rest of the stuff so I could check the load and put it away quicker and I found that the melons had been stacked nine high in a single stack per cage so it did look impressive and when HnC poked his head out of the back door into the yard he said,9

“Have you finished the counter and…” looking around at the melons, “What the [oops] are all these?”10

“Melons.” I replied.11

“What? All of them? How many have you got? You … I tell you what you’d better sell them or there’ll be trouble. How many boxes are there?”12

“One hundred, why?”13

Wha … That’s twelve hundred fruits, you’ll never shift that lot. I’ll be back in half an hour and we’ll talk about this!” So saying he marched off.14

“Right lads,” I said to my two staff, “you put that lot away in the prep room and I’ll put the melons in the cage,” so saying we set to work. The cage itself was set into a corner so the shop was along one side and a high brick wall, which separated the yard from the public car park, was along the back so only two sides were actually visible, so I stacked the melons just along the visible sides leaving the rest of the cage empty and those that did not fit, my boys took out and put on display.15

Thirty minutes later the manager came back, walked through the prep room and out into the yard where I was tidying up, took one look at the cage ‘full’ of melons and went into one. He swore until the air turned blue. I tried to tell him there were nine not twelve melons to a crate and about the sales figures but he would not let me speak, (I later looked up some of the things he called me in the dictionary – they were all rude!). He then stomped off with threats to call the greengrocery area controller. 16

Once he had gone my lads, who had been pretending to get a load up so they could listen in, came out and commented on the managers imaginative alternatives on where I could put the melons that did not sell. We had had enough of HnC’s bullying ways so I told them to shift as many melons as possible out to the floor but instead of throwing the empty cases in the crusher, to put them back in the stack. This they duly did.17

At about eleven that morning, after tea-breaks had come and gone I was doing paperwork when I heard the approaching footsteps of doom – namely the boss. He erupted into the yard, took one look at the still full cage and exploded. He liked me to a part of the human anatomy that usually resides on a chair and also questioned the validity of my parent’s marriage. I tried to tell him that they were selling and that some of the boxes were empty but I could not get a word in edgeways. 18

“I told you they would never shift you [expletives deleted]. I am going to ring your controller; I’ll have your [small round sqidgy bits] in a sling for this you [rather silly person]. By the time we’ve finished with you you’ll be lucky to be sweeping the [expletive] floor, you [offspring of a female canine].” He was apoplectic, I thought he was going to wet himself he was so agitated. Again I told him that there was no need because they would sell, but he bluntly suggested that I mixed sex with travel and stormed off again.19

Word had got around about the ‘melon crisis’ and various people came to look or offer support after they heard what had been said to me. Actually half the town had heard what the manager had said because he was so loud!20

I went to lunch at twelve and the lads kept working. Once one o’clock arrived I got up to go back to work when the manager appeared in the canteen, he was purple. He swore at me across the room and ordered me to “…get back to my [more naughty words] counter.” He was showing himself up every time he opened his mouth. Any respect that staff had for him was now on a par with a small lump of window putty!21

We walked back to my prep room and out into the yard. The boys had done well, the cage was still ‘full’ with no visible gaps and HnC went orbital. His eyes were boggling, he was sputtering and swearing and having great difficulty stringing a coherent sentence together. He just turned on his heel and with a final string of the most awful language which ended in the word ‘off’ and would have made a sailor blush, stalked out with the promise to make that phone call.22

The melons continued to sell; I even cut some up and sold them as halves. About forty five minutes later a triumphant HnC came sauntering into the prep room, looked at the melon wall and, instead of going for a coronary, said Mr. R… the area manager was on his way. He had to come from the coast (about eighty miles) and would be here in a couple of hours, he would then take as many melons as he could fit in his car to other stores and that they would discuss my future. Then he left.23

The store was heaving with customers and we were kept busy keeping the counter tidy and full. The manager came up to me while we were finishing off a load we had bought out.24

“Right you [naughty name], Mr. R will be here in half an hour and he is not happy.” He followed us out to the prep area where we started getting rid of the rubbish and getting a new load up. He looked at the wall of melons, swore and left.25

“Right lads,” I said, “You get as many melons as you can out to the counter and you chuck all the empty boxes into the crusher and I’ll get the next load ready.” We all set about our tasks with speed and anticipation. My pal came back and took the load I had prepared and, when he was finished, the other lad joined him. I meanwhile, got the ten boxes of melons that were left and stacked them into the prep room leaving the cage outside empty.26

A few minutes later one of the guys ran into the prep room and told me that the manager and the area controller were coming, and indeed, I could here the expletive factory approaching down the passage. My lad ran into the yard and disappeared.27

“He’s a total idiot,” I heard from where I was standing in the yard pretending to do the waste figures, “He’s got tons of them, we are totally awash,” walking through the prep room he burst into the yard and shouted,28

“Just look at these mel…” he turned as he spoke pointing to the cage and froze. His face was a picture. The area controller followed him out and looked into the empty cage. “Where are your melons, Mr. …?” he asked.29

“In the prep room,” I replied pointing the stack by the entrance, at which point one of my boys came in and took two boxes off the top.30

“Need more of these for the table,” he said and left.31

“Where are the rest of them, B.?” he asked, “and do you have any problem?”32

“Apart from what’s out on the floor,” I answered, “that’s all there is and my problem is, I may not have enough.”33

HnC just stood there with his mouth opening and closing, looking for all the world like a retarded halibut. He started to speak, stopped, sputtered a bit, went red and lapsed into silence.34

“I’ll see you in your office in five minutes.” Said an obviously angry Mr. R and once he had left he turned to me.35

“I have just driven eighty miles to sort this out.” He said in a dangerously even voice.36

“I tried to tell him everything was okay,” I said, “but all he did was shout and swear, ask anyone. Nearly everyone in the warehouse and the canteen heard him.”37

Mr. R. held up his hand,38

“Don’t say any more, I’ll be back before I go,” so saying he left.39

I heard a muffled noise from behind the lines of empty cages and when I looked, both my lads were curled up on the floor laughing so hard that tears were running down their faces.40

“I would have paid money to see that!” exclaimed one,41

“That was beautiful,” said the other, “Wait till everyone hears this.”42

“Careful what you say,” I warned them “or we could all be in trouble.”43

“Don’t worry, we know how to tell it!” they laughed and went off to spread the word.44

Twenty minutes later Mr. R. returned and said,45

“B, I don’t want to know! I am off now - I do not think that HnC will be on your back for a while.” And he left.46

Word went around the store faster than a road runner on speed. For the next week the greengrocers did not need to buy their tea at break time. There were many pats on the back and comments like ‘it was about time’. HnC had obviously had the rollicking of his life because he came to apologize for his language. We, as a department, held no grudge. We accepted his apology graciously and, to show no hard feelings, we gave him a melon.47