This is a candid recollection of my memories working at Kwiksave (the now defunct discount supermarket chain) as a ‘Stock Lad’.
I wasted over FOUR years of my life in this horrible dump, and still wake up with nightmare's occasionally thinking I'm still there.
Some of the names have been slightly changed simply to save my arse in case anyone takes offence at some of the details regarding my facts or opinions. Many of the people mentioned are now dead as this happened so long ago, but their siblings are not.
This will be a multi-part article as there is simply too much to tell in one sitting. I hope you find it as entertaining as I found recalling it from my brain.
Other articles in the series:
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part One
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Two
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Three
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Four
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Five
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Six
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Seven
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Eight
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Nine
The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops - Part Ten
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‘Some kids are best left to fend for themselves, and others were born to stack shelves’ – Steven Wilson
January 1984 – Tedium Continuation
I was to stay at Kwiksave until around May 1985, but this part of my ‘residence’ is not very clear at all. I think it was due to the management having no changes as well as the stock lads.
Between this date and my leaving, things were quite static and little of any significance happened.
I had been dating Barbara for over 6 months at this stage and we were a verified couple.
Some checkout operators left and others replaced them, but other than Sue Banks I can’t recall their names. Sue was related to Ian Banks, the same stock lad that had jam and eggs dumped over his head and had left rather hurriedly.
Sue was a different character altogether. For one, she looked like Kim Wilde. This was the 80’s and Kim Wilde was hot! Of course, I was a taken man at this point but Welder did try it on at one point and was hastily rebuffed.
Sue was simply in a different league, but not so much that she was unapproachable.
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I do recall both myself and Welder getting a little miffed at the checkout operators occasionally, though by no fault of theirs. For long periods they were seated and expected to twiddle their thumbs and scratch their arses while waiting for customers to checkout their goods.
Welder and I would be working in the aisles stacking cans, jam and biscuits while the checkout girls used to stare at us in zombie trances. They didn’t mean to stare but there was simply nothing else for them to do.
Sometimes we got a little self-conscious and would take a stance. I remember standing up straight, and staring back using my best googly eyed stare while shouting, ‘NO GAWPING!’ with my arm pointed to the semi-conscious checkout girl.
This would usually result in giggles and a little embarrassment. They never seemed to get the message and the gawping continued without any reprieve.
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David Dire had a couple of sons. One was a spitting image of himself, 15 years of age and also called David. The other was named Doug, a skinny lad and took more from his mother’s build.
I got on really well with Doug, who was occasionally forced to work as an unpaid slave by his oppressive father from time to time. He was approachable and friendly yet had a chequered past according to Martin who knew him from the Oldham branch.
Before Martin left, he told me a story of Doug and that he used to syphon petrol tanks and a subsequent ‘song’ has been invented in recognition of his deeds.
I’m Doug the thug, I’m a thug called Doug,
I like to syphon petrol tanks,
I’m a thug, I’m a thug, I’m a thug..
…went the song.
There was even a ‘Doug the Thug’ jig that accompanied this which involved a few whoops and kicks when done correctly. Doug was always less than impressed when we used to taunt him with the song and jig, and could be seen slouching off in a sulk.
No matter what time of year it was the store got very hot, at least if you were deep inside. The front of the store had a double door that was mostly open, then there were the checkout operators and at the bottom of the store, ‘The Heat Machine’.
This ‘Heat Machine’ as we called it, was a huge contraption that was part of the back wall and probably built in the 1950’s. This massive constantly buzzing device had two settings; On or Off. When switched on there was a delay of around a minute while it whirred up, made a very deliberate loud screeching sound and then commenced belting out BIG heat.
Us stock lads were already hot and since Dire refused to let us remove our overalls, it was uncomfortable working in this sweltering environment. The non-descript checkout supervisor (who replaced Sharon) would walk down and switch on the machine ignoring our moans, pleas and groans claiming ‘her girls’ were cold.
Five minutes later, we would switch it off, and claim complete innocence. This became routine and surprisingly no complaints where made against us.
Things got more interesting when Sid the Greengrocer also started switching ‘The Heat Machine’ off as he was bemoaning his veg was starting to stink and prematurely go off. At least we could blame Sid for switching the damn thing off some of the time.
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I do remember winding Sid up somewhat by hiding close to the machine and switching it back on 30 seconds after he had walked away. The screeching sound always gave it away to everyone that the heat was indeed back and pumping out again. Talk about self-torture for some laughs. Sid seems a little confused to say the least.
A few days he cottoned on that it was indeed ME switching it back on just to wind him up. I recall him chasing me round the store once, with Welder and me in fits of laughter keeping just out reach. Yes I was an annoying bugger then.
Barbara left Kwiksave in February 1985 as she managed to get a job in walking distance of her home. It left me feeling a little empty and I followed a few months later as I managed to get another job working at a cotton factory. In hindsight, this turned out to be a terrible mistake, and maybe another story for the future.
I don’t remember too much about my leaving ceremony after over 4 years of employment. That was a long time to work in such a place but did anyone care? Clive the Carpet guy emptied his pockets into my cupped and hands when I announced to him about my departure.
I remember lots of copper and silver coins and some dropped to the ground, maybe there was a pound and I was grateful for anything. Dire seemed happy for me to leave and I can’t even remember a goodbye, never mind a leaving present.
The corpulent pig had outlasted me, and now he just had Welder. I visited the store maybe a couple of times in the subsequent weeks to chat to Welder, but other than that my time had ended and I was finally free of supermarket employment.
So this is the conclusion of my Kwiksave Chronicle’s saga. I know some of it may not have been so interesting a read, but this section of my memoirs I wrote for my daughter as she was eager to read of my past. I may write some more regarding other sections of my life in the future.
The end...
All stock photographs I have used are filtered as ‘Labelled for reuse’ or 'Labelled for noncommercial reuse' and the sources have been cited.
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