Tiresome by Tuesday!

It's going to be a long week.

Tiresome things that have happened so far this week:

My stock take - I thought I'd cleverly minimised the work by doing the stock room numbers on Friday. Unfortunately at 12pm Monday I received a phone call telling me that the large box containing 332 items of new accessories (that arrived with a lovely little note saying that it was not to be included in the stock take) DID in fact need to be counted. On Tuesday, when I had finally collated my total figure, I phone it through to the regional manager only discover that I am meant to have 200-odd items of giftware. I counted 6. Erm.

The would-be stalker - see previous post.

I couldn't get my lighter to work! Monday afternoon, popping out for a well-earned bit of nicotine (and the first since Sunday evening), I stood outside the back door for about 5 minutes like a total lemon, trying to light my cigarette. Could I get the bleedin child-proof thing to work? Could I buggery. I had to stop the man from the newsagent's across the road (the one who insists, rather irritatingly, on addressing me as 'babe') and beg a light. It's a shocking fact but I know very few charity shop managers who do not smoke. I managed for a year without giving in to fag breaks during the day, but since moving into a non-smoking house I no longer smoke much in the evening, if at all, so I have switched my cancerous routine. I must say it does break the day up rather pleasantly.

Usual endless stream of bags of crap - what in god's name would I want a broken toy guitar for? A woman actually removed it from the bag (thankfully, most aren't so considerate) to ask me if it's the sort of thing I wanted, or if *gasp* she should maybe consider putting it in the bin. 'It doesn't actually work...' she says. You'd think she would realise she'd answered her own question, but apparently not. Unwashed crockery, children's underwear, half-used bottles of shampoo, piles of homework (FFS), unfinished craft projects and incomplete jigsaw puzzles. Just a small selection. Don't get me wrong, I am often also stunned at the amazing and lovely things that people donate too - brand new Marc Jacobs necklace, a Chloe bag worth £2k, wedding dresses and vintage military attire, to name but a few. But today is a day for griping. Oh yes but I did find a pair of slightly muddy but otherwise barely worn Ugg hiking boots, magically in my size, in amongst it all, which pleased me greatly. Whilst I do not find them in the least aesthetically appealing, I really do need more practical shoes and I may well be doing significantly more walking in the months to come.

I digress. It is Tuesday night. I am tired. Thank god for mid-week days off.

Harassment, etc

I have suffered stalker-like behaviour from customers on more than one occasion whilst at work. The previous offender at first seemed like a pleasant and harmless enough chap, chatting to me on the shop floor - but the inevitable small transgressions began to appear - following me into the back room, standing that bit too close, following me from shop to shop (this was when I was working one day at the shop I now run, and covering three days at the branch down the road). Eventually someone told me they knew him and he was schizophrenic - which isn't necessarily indicative of nutterness, I have some extremely capable volunteers and friends who suffer from it and manage to keep it under control. This man clearly didn't have it under control, however, and eventually, through a course of hiding immediately when encountering him at work and in the street, he left me alone.

Yesterday I was harassed by a customer who has expressed more than usual interest in me over a number of months. He probably doesn't think he was harassing me, but at 5pm when I'm kicking everyone out, stood at the door attempting to lock it, he was hovering in the path of said door so that I was unable to close it, and attempting to cleverly bypass all my requests for him to exit the premises. Clearly he has a bit of a thing for me, and for some reason seems to think that I understand what he is getting at when he acts surprised when i refer to him as 'just a customer?' and 'when will i see you? only at work?' - very frustrating. Why do men old enough to be my father often seem to expect that I will want to go out with them. Whilst he does not look mentally unhinged and is a not a large or menacing person, I did feel quite harangued and intimidated by him when I was in the shop alone at the end of the day. Next time I will get badass on him and put my security radio to good use!

Headless chickens, etc

The running of a charity shop is a strange business. In many ways, which I shall attempt to document here in an amusing anecdotal fashion. One can only hope it will be for the edification of the masses, though in truth its primary purpose is to prevent my own insanity by providing a cathartic outlet. And to save all my relationships which will inevitably crumble through the pressure of being used in this way.

My shop and I must remain unidentified - but picture a busy seaside town full of the waifs and strays of humanity, from hippies and heroin addicts to students and sartorial savoirs. My customers are lunatics, my volunteers are lunatics, and if I did not keep a sense of humour, I would also swiftly become a lunatic. As one of my friends said, you have to laugh, because otherwise you'd just sit in a corner and rock.