Our Best Attention

by Jane Tulloch

  Saturday

  Half day, hooray! We finished at one, and I only had the one break at 9.30, so it was a long morning. Lot of Americans in today. Quite good fun talking to them. I like the talking bit. It’s the selling, organising the payment and worst of all the dusting that’s the bad bit. I never said about the payment bit before. That’s seriously scary. We have to write out the bill and take the customers’ money and go to the sooky machine (well that’s what I call it) and put them in a sort of brass shuttle with a twist closure. If it’s going to Accounts it has to be in a red-topped one, and if to the Tube Desk, a grey-topped one. Debbie says God help you if you get it wrong. There’s not that many sooky machines so there’s often a few of us girls waiting round it for shuttles with change and receipts to come back. Some of the customers get fed up waiting but that’s tough.

  Monday

  Back to work again. I still feel tired and my legs ache a bit from all the standing. When Mrs A goes for her looooong breaks I sit in her chair at the desk. The First Sales in Royal Doulton gave me a dirty look, but she doesn’t like Mrs A (so Debbie says anyway) so she didn’t shop me to her.

  Some nice customers today: a lovely lady who wanted some special glasses for a wedding present. I got hell from Mrs A for directing her to the other crystal dept, but the lady came back and thanked me nicely for being honest. The other one was a nice old girl who really just came for a chat. Fine by me and it was nice to hear all about her grandchildren. Got me back in trouble with Mrs A though. Och. I gather she’s going on holiday soon. Sooner the better. Wonder who they’ll put in her place. I don’t think I can be trusted. Well I can, but not to be making sales anyway.

  Tuesday

  Hot news! I’m to go on a training course. Its run by Mr Williams from Display and Advertising and is to teach us how to do special paperwork called ‘exports’. Sounds v boring indeed, but at least it’ll get me away from Mrs A for an hour or two.

  More dusting and polishing, then standing about today. I’m not allowed to fold my arms when standing but must just link my hands loosely behind my back or let them hang at my sides. Fun, fun, fun. Apparently it’s Murrays’ policy, rules-are-rules sort of thing, but Flora, the junior in Perfumery and Cosmetics, (cosmetics! lucky thing!!!) says that her First Sales lets her sit down and everything. It’s just my luck I’ve got a stickler for Murrays’ rules.

  Wednesday

  Another boring day. Not allowed to say ‘Can I help you?’ to customers. Apparently that’s off-putting. You have to say either ‘Good morning’ or ‘Good afternoon’ and make a comment about what they’re looking at. I can just see me managing that well: ‘Good morning, madam. I can’t believe you’re looking at our tat when there are beautiful crystal glasses over in that department’. Or I can sneak up behind people just as they’re picking up heavy crystal vases and boom out, ‘GOOD MORNING, MADAM’ and hope they’ll drop them and have to pay for them. Try that tomorrow. Oh no. I forgot I’ve got that course up in the training dept..

  Thursday

  Can’t believe I was looking forward to that course. It was desperately boring. There were only benches for us to sit on and not enough of them. I was squashed up against a junior from Menswear, who thought he was IT. As if. And he had terrible BO. I kept getting dirty looks from a girl on the bench in front. Debbie said it was because she’s secretly engaged to him and was jealous of me. Me? Debbie overheard them talking in the fourth floor Ladies about me. The one with that poem on the back of the door of the end cubicle. (Always makes me laugh: ‘Here I sit brokenhearted, paid my penny only f-----’.) Anyway, back to the course. Exports are special paperwork to do with taxes and customs and things and have to be specially completed in a certain way etc, etc, etc. Mrs A always does them if any of the Americans want to export stuff. If any of them ask when Mrs A is out of the department I just say we don’t do them. Has worked so far. Think I’ll just keep doing that. I’ll never remember how to write up the yellow forms and special receipts. Blew a kiss over the balcony to that junior from Menswear this afternoon. Just to annoy that stroppy cow who was complaining about gorgeous me. Don’t think he saw me though. An old man did and winked at me. Noooooooo!

  Friday

  Big day – pay day! We have to go up to the pay dept. (on our break!!) and queue up along the dark, wood-lined corridor to collect our pay packets. Was given and had to sign for a wee brown envelope. I was surprised to feel coins in there as I thought, stupid me, that I’d get the £17 I was promised in my letter. Of course tax and National Insurance had to come out of it. Only got £14 5s. I still think in old money. Must get with the times. Still it meant that I couldn’t buy the shoes I wanted and pay for lunches and buses all week. Life is full of sacrifices. Sigh.

  Monday

  New week, new approach to work. D-day for my cunning plan to charm customers. The booming voice one didn’t work. The woman just stared at me, then began talking to me in a very slow deliberate voice as though I was not quite right. I then became all hyper-efficient and tried out my American accent. That didn’t work either. I hope Mrs A didn’t notice. It’s just so boring in our miserable boring department. There’s no fun!!

  Tuesday

  Busloads of Americans in town and some even penetrated to our dark cave. I listened specially to their accents so I can copy them. One couple mistook this for me being interested in them and started to tell me all about Tennessee. Unfortunately all this led to them deciding they liked me so much that they wanted to buy their glasses from me or ‘this little lady’ as they called me. This meant horror of horrors – an export. Mrs A was on yet another of her breaks so I had to try to do it. I’ve always felt that at least if it looks OK, it probably is OK. That didn’t quite work out at school in my exams, but I reckoned the customers didn’t know any more about the paperwork than I did so I could chance it. No luck! Mrs A came back just when I was randomly filling in forms and just about had a canary. Tore them all up in front of the customers, who looked at me reproachfully. I had been doing so well and just about got away with it. Mrs A then spent all afternoon going over and over exports with me. Groan.

  Wednesday

  Unpacked some new stock and generally made a huge mess on the carpet with the straw and bits of cardboard. Exciting trip to the stores to find a brush and shovel. Mrs A put out all the new glasses after I had polished them. Then she sat down again. I hope she does have piles. I still don’t know what piles are, but everyone in the canteen nods knowingly and winces when they talk about them.

  Thursday

  Made an interesting discovery. When I was in the stores yesterday I found a bucket which I thought might be handy for collecting up the bits of cardboard, etc.. I didn’t put it back at the end of the day, because I found that if you walk about with a bucket people assume you’re busy and leave you alone. Eureka! I must have walked miles today before Mrs A asked nippily where I was going to now with that damn bucket. Think she’s on to me. Will hold the bucket scam in readiness for emergencies.

  Friday

  Dusted, polished, stood about, and talked to nice old ladies. I like old ladies. They show such an interest in you and tell you all about themselves too. Mrs A is always telling me off for ‘encouraging’ them. Shame. I bet they’re just lonely. I’d hate to think of Gran having to do that. Didn’t risk bucket today. Best bit was in the canteen. I really like it there. It’s right up in the roof space with round windows, which give a great view if you stand on tiptoes. It’s always warm and a bit smelly. Lots of people smoke, so you can hardly see across it sometimes. The food is awful. I just eat chips and some of the ancient cakes sent up by the tea room. We all sit together and complain generally about everything. Paid again. Think I’ll buy that nice top in Chelsea Girl.

  Saturday

  Only a half day. Thank God. That top in Chelsea Girl was out of stock. Drat.

  Monday

  Think I’m in big trouble. A nice older lady came in to the department when Mrs A was on her lunch. It was
the usual old lady stuff, asking about how long I’d worked there and if I liked it, etc. She seemed interested so I told her all about how boring it was and how rubbish our stock was. I also said that I enjoyed talking to people and tried to help them to buy nice stuff unlike ours.

  Turned out the nice lady was Miss Murray, the big boss. Mrs A nearly collapsed when she returned to the dept. (late as usual) and found her talking to me. Oh, dear. Am expecting to be fired.

  Tuesday

  What a day. I was summoned to Mrs Pegram’s expecting the worst, but Miss Murray was there too. They told me that I was a wee bit too honest for that Crystal department but, as I liked the customers and wanted a bit more company, I was being moved. Transferred she called it to the big China department across the gallery. Brilliant! There’s a good crowd there and I bet there’ll be lots of fun.

  Mrs A was very sour when I went back to collect my bag. She told me she’d ‘mark my card’ with her friend Miss Piper in China. Whatever that means. Anyway, its goodbye crappy Crystal, and hello China!

  Wednesday

  Can hardly believe the difference being in China has made. It’s much busier, but there are more staff.

  Most are quite young, but there are some old things in their 40s too. Shirley seems friendliest. She’s a big girl with a massive head of fuzzy hair and loads of makeup. Annie’s nice too. She’s very posh. Not sure how she came to be here. Miss Piper, the senior sales, is a plump wee woman who looks very tightly corseted: somehow you have the impression of straining seams on her shiny black suit. I don’t think her shoes fit very well either.

  There’s a lot to learn about all the different stuff we sell (‘we’ – get me!). I’m on the bottom rung so have responsibility for the kitchen china and so on. If a customer asks me about other stuff, I have to ask a more senior staff member. It’s so funny, the language we have to use. I practice it in the canteen. ‘Come forward, Miss Gibbons’, I say when Doreen approaches the table. I got into trouble for saying it to Miss Piper though when someone asked about one of her special Royal Copenhagen vases. We’re not allowed to sell the expensive stuff. The senior sales staff are on commission, so they have to process all the big sales. They get 1p in every £2.40. Big wows. Wonder what they do with it all.

  Thursday

  The most fun person in the department is Mr Campbell. He says it’s OK to call him Rory. What a laugh he is, even though he’s very old. There’s just something about the way he says things that are funny. He lives with his mother who is a ‘professional invalid’ according to the others. There’s also a Jeremy there too. I think he’s the lodger or something. He seems nice and comes in to visit Rory sometimes, which is very friendly of a lodger. Rory’s just wee and sort of bouncy. He came from Luggage, which seems to have improved a bit. He’s trying to improve China too. Don’t know how though. It seems fine to me.

  Friday

  I had a real problem with language today. It was an American lady. She kept asking for ‘Bew Kan Chiner’. There’s only so many times you can say, ‘I beg your pardon’ or ‘sorry?’ or even ‘what?’.

  I got her write it down eventually. It was Buchan Pottery she was looking for! Honestly you’d think they could speak properly. She didn’t buy any in the end. Payday. Hallelujah!

  Saturday

  Busy again. I was hearing about staff discounts. Apparently you can get them in every department but you have to go round very early in the morning. It’s called ‘staff shopping’. An excellent skive it sounds to me. Unfortunately, with my pay I couldn’t afford anything, even with a staff discount.

  Monday

  Am quite tired today. Carrying piles of kitchen china about, then a major dusting operation in the china flower section. The china flowers are Miss Piper’s favourite. They are kept piled up on a longish display table with raised central shelves. Shirley said it looked just like a recent grave all covered in flowers. Just for a laugh Rory decided to conduct a funeral service ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered today to mark the passing of …’ but he couldn’t think who to say. Miss Piper came back at that point and was furious. We had to stop, but referred to the china flowers as ‘the dear departed’ all afternoon.

  Tuesday

  Word came round today that all the juniors were to go to windows at the front so we could see the Queen who was going to be going down the main street that afternoon in an open carriage with some old king of somewhere. Bit boring but a good skive. I went along and leaned out of a window in a Ladies Separates changing room. Nice of ‘them upstairs’ to think of us. Shirley was telling us that once word came round that all the ‘bairns’, i.e. us, were to be kept away from the front windows as a man had hanged himself from out of a window of the hotel a few doors down from us!!

  Wednesday

  That Fat Barry, the store detective, came round this morning. There’s apparently been some serious shoplifting. He seemed to think it was one of us who had somehow smuggled out a huge vase. Some hope. I didn’t like the way he looked at us. Seemed to think if he stared hard enough one of us would crack and confess. Pah!

  Thursday

  Great fun again. Am so happy to be away from that awful Crystal department. Rory was in great form. What a life he’s had. He’s a real party animal and he’s got so many young friends. Sometimes they come in to visit him in the department. I’ve never heard men shriek with laughter before. Our table in the canteen say he’s ‘camp’, but I don’t know quite what they mean by that. Is it like piles? (Still don’t know what they are). He gets a bit tired towards the end of the day and sometimes goes a funny colour. He is quite old though.

  Mum loves to hear about him. She says that he’s a friend of Dorothy’s, but I don’t know which Dorothy. Gran knows a Dorothy. Mrs Redding. She’s great fun too. What a blether. Dad says she’s of the total recall school of conversation. She’s hilarious, but Gran says I’m not to laugh so much when she tells us about her life, as apparently it’s not meant to be funny. Well, pardon me for living. I asked Rory if he knew a Mrs Dorothy Redding, but he doesn’t. He says he knows another Dorothy, but he knows what Mum means. (?)

  Friday

  Big plans for next week. Rory has redesigned the department into different sections: there’s to be a bit for the good Irish crystal and Scandinavian glass and the French paperweights, a bit for very modern German porcelain, a bit for the old-fashioned china (including the dear departed!) and a section at the end for the kitchen china and our old friend Bew Kan Chiner. The men are coming in over the weekend to do all the joinery work, and we’ll have to move all the stock to its new places. It should look good, but I’m dreading all the work. If only I was senior enough to just move the lightweight tea sets and ornaments. Tried out my Northern Ireland accent on a customer this afternoon. Seemed to work OK. Shirley nearly spoilt it though when she giggled when she overheard me.

  Saturday

  Spent the morning moving all the stock to the backroom until it was full up, so we had to beg space from the Royal Doulton and Royal Worcester concessions. My back is so sore. I even thought about redeploying the bucket scam but it wouldn’t have been fair on the others. Roll on Sunday, lie-in in bed.

  Monday

  Rory’s big day, except he wasn’t in. Very odd. Jeremy, the lodger, phoned in to say he wasn’t well. What a shame he was missing seeing the refit in all its glory. Well maybe he wasn’t so daft. It was very hard work moving all the stock back. Luckily there weren’t too many customers or those who were there soon saw how much work was going on and decided to come back another day. Some ladies come in every day. It’s amazing how little some people have to do.

  Miss Murray came to see how we were getting on. She smiled at me but didn’t say anything. Just as well as I was staggering along carrying a pile of Poole pottery and couldn’t have stopped.

  Tuesday

  Still no Rory. The department seems so dull without him. There was some excitement though. A group of gypsy women (Showfolk? Travellers? Don’t know what you’re
supposed to call them – very exotic looking, not like our usual ladies!) came in and bought up our entire stock of Crown Derby. Fat Barry, the store detective, was watching them the whole time. Miss Piper handled the sale as it was for such a huge amount. Tube Desk were alerted and we were told not to accept credit card payment. Needn’t have worried – they paid in cash!! Such a massive wad of notes that it didn’t all fit in a shuttle. I was allowed to help with the packing as there was so much of it. I quite like Crown Derby, but it’s a wee bit too fancy and gold for me. I prefer the ultra-smart German porcelain in Rory’s new section.

  Wednesday

  Rory was back, but not quite his usual self. I expect it was because he was so busy with the new stock. I was in a bit of bother. I had stupidly told Mrs Pegram at my interview that I spoke French, and I do, up to a point. Not much of a point though. ‘Ooh, la la’ and ‘oui, oui’ won’t get me very far. Anyway I was summoned to the phone and told to get myself to the Pharmacy to help a French customer. When I got there, he was pointing to his bottom and saying loudly ‘conthtipassion!’ over and over. Didn’t sound French at all. Luckily I was relatively familiar with his potential problem due to my involuntary involvement in long discussions between Gran and Mrs Redding. The two old ladies’ knowing nods alerted me to the fact that this was potentially secret and taboo, so I was really interested. Maybe it was something to do with the mystery of piles? Anyway Gran and Mrs Redding were keen fans of Syrup of Figs. I asked the pharmacist if he had any, and he looked out a dusty bottle. The French man grasped it happily in its discreet paper bag and thanked me profusely ‘Merci, merci’. I waved him off airily with a cheery ‘Bon voyage’, (the only phrase in French I could think of) he looked back oddly at me, then left. I felt like such an international linguist, even though I couldn’t understand why Pharmacy couldn’t work out his problem for themselves. Good skive though. Everyone in the department called me mademoiselle all afternoon.