What a day!
This morning, whilst packing parcels on my own, I dropped some medallions on the floor, cursed, picked them up and carried on. I packed a few other parcels first and then started on the medallions. There were only eight of them when there should have been nine.
I checked the floor, I checked more of the floor, looked under everything, including the fridge, looked in the drawer they had come out of, and the one above, and the one below . . .
My workmate double-checked, and so did the boss. Eventually, looking from a distance, he said: “Have you checked the pockets of your jacket?”
I have a waistcoat over the back of my chair as I sometimes use it to make a cushion to relieve pain on my legs. It’s months since I last moved it.
“No, ” I said in my best long-suffering manner, “but I will.”
I checked the first pocket and there was, as I expected, nothing. I checked the second and, as you have probably already guessed, found the missing medallion.
My chair had been in a different place when I dropped the medallions and when I’d dropped four on the floor the fifth must have fallen straight into my pocket. I’m not sure if this is another senior moment or an interesting insight into life in the shop.
It was soon overshadowed by another farcical event, when the owner called through from the shop, asking for £300 out of the safe as he was buying some coins from a member of the public. My workmate duly obliged, opening a new pack and taking £300 out. So far, so good. He then decided to leave the balance – £700 – on the nearby work surface.
At that point the fan, which he had decided to switch on when he arrived, turns and, one by one, blew the notes across the room like something out of a Laurel & Hardy film.