‘The Horrors of Kwiksave’ 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 maggot-infested hellhole and still occasionally wake up drenched in sweat after enduring a nightmare in which I am working there still.
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 is the 'HIVE Special Edition' of a multi-part autobiographical story (with a little over-embellishment on some of the details) I posted on STEEM over 3 years ago.
It contains a LOT more detail and content than the original and will fill in many gaps that were missed the first time around.
Chapter One: A Prelude to the Best Job in the Land
Chapter Two: The Job Centre
Chapter Three: The Interview
Chapter Four: Christmas is Coming
Chapter Five: The Changing of the Blades
Chapter Six: The Staff
Chapter Seven: The Auxiliary Staff and The Load
Chapter Eight: The Sugar Maniac
Chapter Nine: The Accusation and "Big Lad"
Chapter Ten: Naggy
Chapter Eleven: Shit & Noise
Chapter Twelve: The Death of Mort
Chapter Thirteen: The Time of Many Managers
Chapter Fourteen: The Calm before the Storm
Chapter Fifteen: David Dire
Chapter Sixteen: Bad Totty
Chapter Seventeen: Tracy, The Wild One
Chapter Eighteen: 'Buff-It-up'
Chapter Nineteen: The Demise of Ian Banks
Chapter Twenty: The Date (Part One)
Chapter Twenty One: The Date (Part Two)
Chapter Twenty Two: Dire's Lunge
Chapter Twenty-Three: 'Eggy-Poos'
'WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE BELOW'
In just over a year, I would be leaving Kwiksave but at the time had no idea about my future.
My head is quite hazy about the last year or so, and I am having to think hard regarding details.
At one point I did contemplate contacting 'Welder' to jog my mind, but after all the dissing' I have handed out during this story, I figure it’s not such a great idea.
I am still in semi-contact with him via Facebook. He’s got health issues now and is clinically obese. This is possibly due to being converted to a Mild drinker at too early an age, and indulging when hanging out with Dire during the 80s.
Since the departure of my favourite supervisor, Sharon... Kwiksave had replaced her with a tall, young squinty looking woman with big teeth whose name evades me, so I will name her 'Helen'.
I often wondered who interviewed female supervisors, surely not Dire who would have had his own initiation criteria process of...'big tits, gropable, and up for a quickie in the office when Marge was not looking'.
Helen was a good-looking chick, but gave out a lofty superior aura, as well as being a little tall for her own good. Dire appeared pleased at the new 'oggling material', though she appeared to completely blank him.
What caught the eyes and ears of both Welder and me was the ‘boyfriend’ who regularly entered the store around 5.30 pm, presumably to collect his beau.
If the description of Agnus (a fictional character) from ‘Mort the Shit Manager’ appeared bad, then Eggbert was at least her equal.
I mention 'ears' above for good reason as you could always hear the noisy, blustering entrance of Eggbert before you caught a visual.
'I'm h-here my baby, cum' on, l-less go, I need m-m-my... you know... rumpee…’, he stammered out at 90 decibels and then stopped abruptly wondering why the entire store was staring with open mouths.
Eggbert was around 5’5 in height, relatively skinny, and was probably born a hunchback. Huge pock holes covered his face as well as many large warts, some of which had tufts of hair growing from them.
Add some white froth emanating from the corners of his mouth which he appeared to have no control over, endlessly quivering lips covering an uneven row of brown incisors and canines and you get a semi-picture.
Eggbert continued to play silent statue, perhaps thinking he had drawn a little too much attention to himself which was hardly alleviating the situation.
“That’s Helen’s bloke..., bloody freak”, I whispered to Welder trying to keep a straight face.
Welder had not taken well to this new supervisor after she had gotten a whiff of his BO and made it quite clear by stepping back several paces somehow visibly wrinkling her nose.
“Why does she shag that freaky bastard while making it clear she doesn’t like me”, bemoaned my colleague who had taken the slight badly.
I had an inkling that Welder was not after getting into Helen’s knickers, but he had taken it to heart.
Source
...'Stock Lads were handed used overalls and forced to wear them, even on day one before they had a chance to wash them. Each came with a guarantee to stink (and possibly overpower weak-willed lads), be at least 10 years old and never be your size'...
…did he not know?...
“That’s because that filthy brown Kwiksave overall you have attached to your back hasn’t been washed in years, and likely contains sweat from the last Stock Lad intermingled with yours”, I pointed out quite squarely at him while grimacing at the many layers of coated perspiration and excreted body fluids around his armpits.
“Hmmmfff”, said Welder in feigned indignation, and stormed off into the back shop.
Helen emerged from the glass-covered office looking flustered, and made her way to that stammering, hunched Eggbert trying to look like there was no incident, and that nothing had happened.
Source
...'I expect to hear Eggy-Weggy while watching Alex and his ultra-violence, but not in the Kwiksave foyer'...
She gently took his arm, and escorted him out of the front door issuing something that sounded like sweet nothings, and soft-sounding words such as “Eggy poos, my baby eggy weggy.."
The words faded into the distance and I looked on in complete disdain.
I mean what the fuck was going on and why was she dating this colossal freak of nature who could barely put a sentence together.
Seconds later an almighty engine roar emitted from the store front entrance followed by a screech of tyres, an immense balloon of used tyre smoke, and a fleeting streak of red.
Was that a Ferrari Testarossa I just saw moving like lightning across the storefront?
Welder, forgetting about my latest jib excitedly emerged from the back shop which incidentally connected to the side of the store.
He had seen it all.
"Did you see that Ferrari?…", he almost yelled at me with frantic enthusiasm.
"One step at a time mate", I said flatly. "The Ferrari will come later, but first you need to get down to the local council offices and change your name to Eggy-Poos"
"Bah…", said Welder sporting a hurt look, and once again stormed off to the back shop.
To be continued...
Cover Picture is a combination of free sources from here and here, combined and edited with Luminar 4. Any unsourced images are my own.
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