I detail a late shift in The Shop

Friday 12th October

A full shift in the bookshop, or as I shall refer to it hereafter The Shop, today – luckily a late one, so that’s 3-11pm. Late shifts allow for beer the night before, since you can lollop out of bed at a disgraceful hour and don’t have to look or smell respectable until at least half past one. Unfortunately late shifts are the shifts that casual staff get most often and a run of them can put paid completely to any hope of functioning socially in society.

Something of an exodus is taking place in The Shop as Sean, the longest serving (and suffering) bookseller leaves this week, the lovely Sam is leaving after only a couple of months and our newest full-time recruit started and left within the week so I never actually got to meet her. There are a number of good reasons to want to leave The Shop, not least the fact that It’s A Shop, and not a job you want to hang around in forever when there’s no hope of any kind of promotion. There are other reasons too, but those are the personal property of the leavers and none of anyone else’s business. They have, obviously, been discussed and dissected at great length by We Who Remain. Personally, I find it hilarious that someone wasn’t even able to stand a week of it before she ran for the hills. Go! Run! Don't look back!

Late shifts are dull because once the shows have gone in you don’t see many other humans until they come out, usually around 10 – 10.30pm, then you don’t hear another living soul until you can finally lock up at 11. After a late shift I tend to get the District Line home, partly because the overground from Paddington is anyone's guess after 10 (as is Paddington itself, where I was once knocked over by having a youth thrown at me by another youth who appeared to disagree with him), partly because Ealing Broadway is the last stop on the District so you can fall asleep happy in the knowledge that you won’t miss your stop, and partly because it means I can walk over Hungerford Bridge and look at the river, which is something I never get bored of. For reasons of leg build-uppage and Not Wanting To Hang Around Outside Broadway Station With The Scrotes and Prossies, I avoid waiting for the bus and walk home along the posher roads, so I get home around half midninght. Brian is customarily still up and pissing around on the internet. When does that man ever sleep? Oh, in the morning.