The Official Trym Tales Unpleasant Job of the Year Award for 2008 goes to the chap at the Woolworth's till who served me and hundreds of others yesterday after members of the household had rummaged their way through the ruins of the 99-year old institution in search of bargains.
The woman in front of me, along with many of her sex, had clearly been in the knickers trough, snapping up a dozen of the oversize undies at ten pence each.
The soon-to-unemployed-male-twenty-something was unable to locate a price tag on the discounted undergarments and was forced to press a call bell, raise the knickers flag-like in the direction of his middle-aged female supervisor and request clarification on their price.
It was a grim scene at lots of levels.
The woman in front of me, along with many of her sex, had clearly been in the knickers trough, snapping up a dozen of the oversize undies at ten pence each.
The soon-to-unemployed-male-twenty-something was unable to locate a price tag on the discounted undergarments and was forced to press a call bell, raise the knickers flag-like in the direction of his middle-aged female supervisor and request clarification on their price.
It was a grim scene at lots of levels.
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