Minding gaps

To the boss when a favour is asked i can't seem to say no. This isn't really to do with my inability to stand up for my rights... (even though recently it has become an chronic inability) Its more to do with the fact that he is one of these people that asks favours from a distance, a favour-assasin if you will. I will be sitting in the store canteen and his head will peep round the door "Hey buddy don't mind covering the other store friday do ya... awesome.... pick the keys up from kat.... see you on the weekend!" before he's finished the question he's already in his car reversing homeward into traffic.

And so its friday and i find myself on a cramped commuter train coming back from a stressful day covering the london store. Now its not that i dislike trains, i actually quite enjoy taking time out and reading the Metro, sometimes i write messages of revolution or fervent nationalism inside the front page and wait for someone to pick it up, read it and look around for the culprit... in reality they probably don't care. Really i just like being able to sit for an hour and not think... this wasn't to be that hour.

When i closed the shop and got to the station i was feeling tired, i'd had a shit day arguing with cunts and pricks and all manner of arseholes, it was raining, i was pissed off and visibly red. As i shared some cover with other damp commuters there came a collective mournful sigh as our train pulled up with only 3 coaches in service. Rows and rows of desperately cramped passengers lined the windows their faces begging for death. As the doors opened some of them spilled out onto the platform. Now yes i am British thus commuter etiquette should oblige me to at least wait for those leaving the train to do so without shoving past, however i bypassed this rule by pretending to help those that had fell from the carriage! As i feigned an outstretched hand to one of the fallen i took my opportunity and gripped the door rail instead! pulling myself into the vestibule and seizing a position pressed against a bin. "Fuck you all.." i muttered triumphantly to myself as i watched the poor fallen wretches outside the doors clawing to get back to their positions. I didn't care, i had secured my spot and there was no way in hell i was going to give it up as easily as those fools had! i felt myself anchoring my legs and arms to the guardrail.

Five minutes into the journey and i was strengthening my borders, pushing my Metro into the territories of other commuters and increasing domain by stretching my legs out whilst keeping a firm grip on the guardrail. The only sign of rebellion came from an eldery lady clinging to her suitcase handle attempting a slow shuffle into the door recess space i'd previously conquered, this old lady was a trojan horse! she looked at me pleadingly, NO YOU DON'T WENCH! I bellowed in my head and stopped her in her tracks with a look of furious venom, at the next stop i discreetly pushed her out the train door. Victory! The vestibule was mine.


Jumping onto the platform of Brighton i felt exhilerated, i had fought back the hordes of each successive station and held my ground with dogged ferocity, i turned around to face the masses "Fuck you Mortals!" i cried out too loudly turned on my heel and ran away into the night.

The next day the boss was pissed off, apparently head office had received a complaint from some old woman who had alleged that she had been assaulted by one of the company's employees turns out i was still wearing my name badge.

The slavery of the free?

I got to the shop today determined to spread some compassion to somebody. Some days you get like that, you wake up and something in you becomes more alive and for a brief moment you forget about targets, you decide you actually want to talk to people properly and not just comment on the weather, or silence conversation with a stoic gaze in order to get them out the door before they lose any more blood on your door mat. Sometimes you feel the urge to connect with people, so I tried it…

The door buzzed and tattooed-to-hell fairground pirate Sonny barged into the lobby, gold chain in one hand and a dog the size of a bear attached to the other.

"Alrite Sonny, nice.. horse you got there"

Sonny glanced in my general direction and muttered a greeting, stuffing his free hand into his filthy jeans the traveller pulled out a Keeper ring the size of my face, hesitated then pulled another chain off his neck, he looked at the dirty yellow mess in his hand and scowled before throwing the lot into the counter's steel tray, "Two Fifty i'll get em back on the morrow".

"Whatever you say mate" I don't even test them, hes a pikey, he won't give up his gold not in a million years. I look at the jagged heavy ring and wonder how Sonny got it, probably won it in a fight... Or more likely, it was his mums. Either way i'm taking too long fucking about and Sonny shows his distaste by giving the bear/dog a boot to the legs, "make it quick i've got stuff to shift!"

I cast an apologetic look at the dog, my god that dogs massive, why do gypsies need massive dogs? they’ve already got guns and hard sisters. Dog scrabbles about on the laminate floor and barks, Sonny barks back “shut up you wanker!”

Christ, who calls their dog a wanker? Sonnys in a bad mood so as i push the grimy 20's through the counter, i decide to leave out any attempt at human connection on this transaction.

The day went pretty fast and i hadn't managed to spiritually aid anyone, missed out on lunch break AGAIN as according to the boss "Lunch is for Queers and Spaniards!" and evidently not for me.

Not one grain of humanity shared all day with one single customer until the last half hour of the day. A visibly distraught old-ish man in a ruined blue suit, wild gaze and what appeared to be a burnt tie charged through the door "Hello are you open?! I mean... you do money here don't you?"

"Yes sir we do a wide range of money" I replied in a monotone

"I mean... not that i need it, its just..." he drifts off,

"... Just an unexpected bill perhaps sir?" My head tilted i finish his lie for him

"Yes! Thats exactly what it is!"

Fantastic, i love it when we get the suits in here, frantically trying to justify why they've walked into a pawn shop, why they don't really need to be here and how this whole lending thing is so terribly unfamiliar to them. They will hang around the door perusing and browsing the nothingness which is the lobby, and then when they have summoned the courage they will cross the void and declare for what purpose they have disturbed the beast!

 Of course just asking for a loan without turning the whole simple process into a red blushing pantomime is out of the question...

Eyes bulging, left arm on the counter the guy spreads a mist on the glass in front of me.

We surveyed each other, clearly here was a man with a straight job, probably had kids, he owed money that was a cert! And it was to someone who obviously didn't offer installment plans, someone who wanted every last penny back right fucking now. With what dignity he had left he would not beg me for help but the desperation, the pleading was etched in his eyes.

We were closing soon, after 5pm i tend to lack tact,

"How much do you want?"

"...Well i have no ID you understand, or any proof of income..."
"Of course, perhaps a bit of paper with your name scrawled with crayon?" 
No answer but the guys right eye started to twitch, i felt nervous,

I leant in hands resting on the counter "How much do you want?"

His face moved closer sweat beading on his face, red flushing his cheeks, i could see blood in his eyes. Behind him outside the shop door a dark BMW was waiting engine running, a hand with a cigerette was resting on the open driver's window, just darkness inside.

 Hands clasping on the counter the man's lips trembled as he went to speak...

I cut in "Don't... just give me five minutes"

What is irresponsible lending anyway? In this town i call it charity