So, having decided at fifteen that I really wasn’t cut out for baby-sitting I scouted around for another way to earn money. As luck or not would have it, I discovered via our Parish Magazine that a Saturday boy/girl was required at a book shop in our nearest small town, accessible by an ancient and not wholly reliable hourly bus service.
A bookshop! I’d be in seventh heaven. I phoned them up, secured an interview and went on the bus to meet the owner. Crooks Books, as I shall from this point refer to the establishment, took up half an old Georgian house, the other half of which sold antique furniture. Mr Crooks owned both and we had a nice chat across a massive mahogany table. I was a pretty precocious and voracious reader for a fifteen year old which must have impressed him because I landed the position and arranged to start the following Saturday. I can’t remember the exact salary but it was probably in the region of around £2.50 for the day. I’d be rich beyond my wildest dreams.
When I arrived the following week, slightly nervous but aspiring to become young book sales person of the year I was puzzled to find not Mr Crooks in charge but his rapidly introduced elderly mother and her side-kick, Miss Lemon-Wedge. I was hurried through the shop with its shelves tantalisingly full of rainbow spines to a cramped little office at the back where the walls were lined with filing boxes and piles of papers, odd books and other office paraphernalia. Miss L-W cleared me a space on a surprisingly untidy desk and an in-tray filled to over-flowing was put in front of me. She advised me to get everything into alphabetical order before showing me the next stage.
It was chilly in that dark little office with only a single bar electric fire to heat the place. The atmosphere was decidedly chillier. I very soon realised that I would be playing Cinderella to the wicked step-sisters; Cordelia to Goneril and Regan or James to his Aunts Sponge and Spiker without ever getting near the stories themselves, out of reach in the shop. I might have been any number of Dickens characters …
Once I’d sorted the contents of the in-tray which I deduced were publishing house invoices, all stamped with PAID on them, Miss L-W showed me to the filing cabinet: through a door in an even colder corridor running down the side of the building with a main door to the outside. All I had to do was to put these wretched invoices into the corresponding folders.
Not rocket science but it took the best part of the morning, only broken up by Elderly Mother bringing me a weak-looking cup of tea and one digestive biscuit balanced on the saucer. Every time I see Green Beryl crockery I’m transported back to that filing cabinet. Shame really – it has in recent years become somewhat iconic in ceramic circles.
The shop closed for lunch, I was booted out and had to amuse myself for an hour in a small town with no appealing shops, no cafes or anywhere that was remotely interesting to my fifteen year old self. I optimistically thought that my afternoon might prove more exciting but sadly I was deluded. When I arrived back, two minutes early, I was again ushered through to the back room and shown how to cover books in plastic. These books would then be sent out to the local libraries: there were boxes and boxes of them. The job took ages, I kept creating bubbles under the plastic or for the loose covers I found that the tape wouldn’t stick. It was a horrible job but once I’d acquired the knack I begrudgingly admit that it has given me a skill for life. (Not that I have ever supplied any libraries with books, but you know what I mean).
I was allowed into the shop for the last hour of my day where my task was to dust shelves and straighten the books. Miss L-W dealt with customers and Elderly Mother counted the proceeds. I have never known time pass so slowly, even in a Maths exam but I stuck this slave labour out for about six months until another opportunity presented itself and I jumped at the chance, vowing that anything I did in the future would not involve filing.
The opportunity that presented itself came in the shape of Viv’s mother (remember Viv – she of the babysitting monopoly?). She was the manageress of an independent chemist shop in Croydon. Viv was already working there and another Saturday position had just become available. I could see that running monopolies obviously ran in Viv’s family but why should I worry – I was going to work in Croydon, shopping mecca of the south-east.
Croydon has now merged into the sprawl that is south London but in those days it was our largest nearest town. It was where we all went for serious shopping. There was a new precinct with Habitat, Chelsea Girl, Miss Selfridge and the like as well as lots of strange little units selling cheesecloth, joss sticks and loon pants. Now I’d have something to do in my lunch hour and I’d have plenty of scope to spend my hard earned cash. This was more like it.
Working in the chemist was a complete antithesis to the bookshop. It was light and modern. It was fun. It was busy. Viv and I were allowed to serve customers, to work the till (an old-fashioned one, mind; we had to work out any change needed. My mental arithmetic improved overnight). We marked up stock, we created window displays. We had a laugh. We had a stream of regular punters, some of whom would drop in for a chat with Viv’s Mum. One of her ‘specials’ as she liked to call them was a chap called Tommy. He was a female impersonator, as was the description provided to Viv and me. Outrageously camp, Tommy sang in a night club in Streatham wearing a sequinned evening dress and would swan into the chemist seeking advice on his makeup and false eye lashes. Viv and I were fascinated. The song Lola, by the Kinks always reminds me of Tommy and my chemist days.
At the end of the afternoon Mrs Gracie, the owner, would arrive with our pay packets. She was an eccentric old bird who chain smoked Capstan Full Strength cigarettes – even in her shop. Her gash of red lipstick never quite followed the contours of her mouth; she was always clad in black with uncomfortable looking high heels and seamed stockings and she was a million miles away from Miss Lemon-Wedge. I worked for her until I had a proper job. My starting salary was £3.27 a day.
I had hit the big time.
Straight out of Dickens. Had they done away with Mr. Crooks?
Well, no, he was off buying and selling his antiques, I guess. But the suggestion is a good one – I’m sure the old biddies would have been capable of anything.
The bookshop sounds like working in the county archive dept. I was set to do a post-grad course as an archivist until I was entombed among the dusty files on the basement for a few weeks. The placement and the course bit the dust (lots of it).
But, I did reorganise all the files in my newspaper office. A very anally retentive task that I actually enjoyed.
The only people who could get chemist jobs in my towns had to commit to doing pharmacy at university. But that was Boots though.
Yes, I heard that about Boots, but then they were the foremost dispensing chemist in the country and I believe they ran a really good training program- probably still do. No, my chemist was more of a drug store where we sold over the counter stuff as well as cosmetics etc. and some of the under the counter stuff, come to think of it – something for the weekend, sir? No wonder Viv and I had a laugh – all part of one’s education 😄
Hi Jenny! I am stopping in since I miss you! Your story is wonderful. The first job you talked about sort of reminded me of some of the jobs I had when I was young.You captured the dreariness so perfectly. The second job sounds very hip. How cutting edge you were! And lucky, too, now that I think about it, because you were probably in the very center of where to be in the world at that time. I liked the use of the word “swan” in!
Ah Hollis, I missed you too, where’ve you been – in your studio? Thank you for stopping by, I’m so glad you did.
I don’t know about being hip and I can’t admit to cutting edge – this was Croydon after all – British folk will understand this joke – Croydon definitely isn’t cutting edge!
Ah yes, Tommy was definitely a swan – not an ugly duckling – he made sure of that. I would have loved to see him dressed in his sequins but Viv and I were too young to get into those sorts of clubs😄
I can remember the dreaded filing at my first job. It was the junior draightsman’s job to file the office paperwork. I remember feeling physically nauseous while sorting, clipping and inserting the smelly, dusty sheets of carbon copies.
I liked Miss Lemon-Wedge very evocative.
I actually developed an allergy to that carbon paper which was another reason to leave that bookshop. It caused a rash on my hands and face which disappeared once I changed jobs. I still have to treat carbon paper with caution!
I didn’t get away with not ever filing again but at least it wasn’t in a cold old corridor. And no more Miss L- W’s 😊
There is the beginning of a novel right there in Mr Crooks shop! And it could be a novel with many possible genres… a murder mystery [who did in Miss Lemon-Wedge] a sci-fi mystery [where did Mr Crooks go and who are these mysterious women who took his place?] a romance ……..
I remember my first job earned me seven pounds, ten shillings a week [old NZ money, and about the same as you were earning a day!] It was a fortune to me!!
Great post Jenny. I am impressed you stuck it out for as long as you did! And very happy that you had a much better experience in the next job.
Yes, Pauline, you’re right. They always say write what you know. I like the idea of a murder mystery, I can imagine those two old girls doing something hideous.
Yes, six months was long enough. I enjoyed having the money though.
I like Pauline’s ideas
Me too.
Jenny, I always look forward to your posts, but this is definitely one of my all-time favorites. Who would ever dream that working for the chemist (?) would be better than working for book sellers in a huge old house that also sold antiques? Your writing shines in this piece–I could pick out the two old women from a lineup, I saw them so vividly through your details–and when you dusted the shelves you almost had me sneezing.
I also love all your British references and words that I totally have no experience to understand; I could sink into the moment and enjoy them via the context. Well done!
Wow thank you Marylin, what a lovely compliment. I’m chuffed I’ve managed to make you see my old ladies. I thought I’d be able to snatch moments of reading the books while at my job but I’m pretty sure that never happened. The library books I was given to cover were all dreary text books as far as I can remember.
I’m intrigued to know what my British references are – I don’t think about things like that when I’m writing – perhaps I should? Thanks again for your encouragement😊
I too look forward to your posts, they are always so entertaining! Have to agree that filing is the pits. My first job after leaving school was as a junior clerk – making tea for the boss, stamping envelopes and filing!! I was soooo bored! I was lucky with the Saturday and holiday job though as my parents owned a newsagents so I worked there – it was huge fun as well as hard work at times (early mornings spring to mind), and it brings a smile to my face remembering the men asking for a magazine off the top shelf – they blushed more than me 😀
Ahh Jude, thanks! I can see that a newsagents would be potential fun – did you sell sweets too? The early mornings wouldn’t have been good for me – it was a struggle getting up to catch the Croydon bus but I would’ve enjoyed reading all the front pages. Coincidentally, scanning the daily press featured heavily in one of my later jobs – and I never got bored with that.
Jenny, this post, as you would say, “is spot on.” You had me laughing out loud from Miss Lemon Wedge, all the way to the red lipstick. Excellent storytelling, my friend!
You also did a great job of making me feel as though the setting was its own character. I felt like I was there with you, in that cold room, creating bubbles under the plastic. Nice job!
Haha, thanks Jill! I wish you had been there with me in that room, I could’ve done with some friendly company – we would’ve covered those library books in no time😄
What a wonderful story – you are a talented raconteur! 🙂
That’s kind, Lynette. Glad you enjoyed my story. I’m just sorry that the bookshop part isn’t fiction 😄
Wonderfully evocative. I am now tempted to write about the most ghastly jobs I have had – and there’s quite a range. Character building, though. And then being sent to secretarial college. I had no idea what a secretary was. But I can still type, do shorthand and my own tax return. Life skills indeed.
There you go. Life skills v degree – that could cause a heated debate! All character building in their own way.
Yes, write about your worst job, that would be fun.
See you soon😊
I dreamt of working in a bookshop but I ended up in Freeman Hardy & Willis. It was a lot of fun but short of books. Crooks Books sounds truly awful. Enough to drive a man to drink. Eagerly awaiting chapter 3.
There’s a high street name from the past! Filing or other people’s feet – it’s a close call as to which is worse. It’s a wonder I wasn’t put off reading for life.
I’d love to know what you’ve been using your covering-books-in-plastic skills for! Such a great story, and a lot of parallels with everyone’s first job I’m sure – sticking it out just because there isn’t anything else for example. My first weekend job aged 13 was collecting eggs from battery hens. Miserable and disgusting in equal measure. When I moved onto the Trakehner stud farm next door aged 15 it was absolute heaven! Jx
As a parent, one of the first homework tasks you have to accomplish for your five year old is to cover their reading record book in sticky back plastic. Books have to be covered from there on in for the next however many years your offspring remains in education. My son’s books always looked pristine – at least for the week immediately after my covering them. However professional a job you do, the covers can’t withstand being kicked around a playground 😄
The Idler (Tom Hodgkinson) once had a section called ‘Crap Jobs’ which was hilarious. Your bookshop job would have starred in it. Like others have suggested there’s the outline of a book there somewhere Jenny.
Thank you, Roy. I’d never thought about something so dreary prompting a story but now I’m beginning to see possibilities 😊
Your post was like a book in itself Jenny, love the characters and your descriptions of Crooks Books, even down to the china cup! But will there be a part 3 we wonder?
Thanks, Andrea – but part three? You’ll just have to wait and see … 😉
Enjoyable, really. You write so well with a really funny and engaging style. I’m waiting for more and some plot development. D
Thanks for your very kind comment. I’m not sure that the plot will thicken unless I go off into the realms of fiction. All of the above is actually true – maybe with a slight embellishment here and there, but not many – honest! 🙂
I like Pauline’s idea – your story should be expanded upon in novel form Jenny 🙂 My first job was as a wedding photographer’s assistant,so my Saturdays were spent in a darkroom. My second job was as a dental assistant (Saturdays only). Neither job involved filing, letter writing or note taking so when I got my first ‘real’ job I was clueless 🙂
A darkroom though, that would have been a lot more interesting than filing, to my mind! Not so sure about the dentist. What makes people want to be dentists, I wonder? Or chiropodists for that matter 😃
This post is classic ‘Jenny’, Jenny! I was so looking forward to reading it and I am not disappointed. I would agree with everyone else, definitely you had me right there with you, in that back room, thoroughly bored and cheesed off. But then who knows what we would have got up to when Miss Lemon-Wedge’s back was turned? Haha…oh, your descriptions are definitely as Jill said, ‘spot-on’. Brought back so many memories of some of my old jobs. When I turned down the babysitting job I got a Saturday job at our local newsagents which was so boring but better than sitting in that huge house alone at night…and as with you, my maths skills improved significantly. Your adventures at the chemist sound like great fun (and now I can’t stop singing Lola, great song!). Oh the memories. And as for Green Beryl china, well, who knew? Great post Jenny, love it 🙂
Thanks, Sherri. That china gets everywhere though, doesn’t it – at our local cinema, where they do the live beam backs from the National Theatre, they serve tea in it during the interval. When I used to donate blood, there was that china again – it’s like it follows me around.
So there’s a coincidence – you and Jude both in newsagents. When you think about it, nowadays there aren’t many just newsagents about – they’ve all turned into corner shops or mini supermarkets owned by one of the big chains. Local folk are up in arms at the moment because Tesco is about to plonk yet another “local” shop on our doorstep- I always swore I’d never use one but I’m afraid I’ve succumbed☺️
Hilarious! Coming full circle with the baby sitting job… these days schools run classes on life skills, such as filling in CVs… my daughter’s teacher asked who had a job, and my daughter’s friend put her hand up. “I do some babysitting.” “Who do you babysit?” “Just my brother.” “Anyone else?” “Er, he has a little friend round sometimes.” “Aha! So you need to write: I am experienced in babysitting a range of children!” It’s a far cry from what we knew at school!
I wish our school ran lessons in life skills, sounds like a jolly good idea. Real life skills such as filling in a passport application, wiring a plug and setting up a bank account. How to survive on the minimum wage by shopping sensibly for foodstuffs, how to make an omelette. I’m not sure that teachers are best placed to advise on CV writing skills – most of them have never lived in the real world 😃
I love your descriptions, Jenny. They are so vivid that I can almost smell the dank office you worked in at the book store. Thank heavens for that proper job. It sounds like it was a lot of fun. 😉 Sad to say – about learning life skills in school – ours no longer has a cooking and sewing class. That, and skills in bookkeeping would be an excellent experience that could be applied to everyday life.
Very well done, your brilliant career is so amusing! I also like the way you made time sound like it dragged and the town was even boring. We call chemist, pharmacy, but I worked when I was 16 at my Great Uncle’s pharmacy, while he was the pharmacist. It was so much fun, so I could relate to some of the elements of this tale, Jenny!