Bad Luck Comes in Threes (or Fours)

Bad Luck Comes in Threes (or Fours)

“It’s jist  bloody typical”, says my boss. “You’ll niver guess fits happened…” I groan. Seriously, what else could go wrong the first time the new owners go away for a week? They’ll probably never leave us alone again. We had our chance to show they could trust us and we blew it. Now I’ll never be able to eat crisps while filing accounts again.

Damn.

Problem 1 (Friday 4th July): “The till is ten pounds short.”

OH NO, WHAT HAVE I DONE? HOW CAN IT BE TEN POUNDS SHORT? DID I STEAL TEN POUNDS WITHOUT REALISING? IS THERE AN EXTRA TEN POUNDS IN MY PURSE?! WILL THEY FIRE ME? WILL I GO TO JAIL?

“It could have been any of us, we were all working today – someone probably gave twenty pounds cash-back instead of ten.”

Oh yeah, that’s a more likely scenario. I need to learn to chill. 

Problems 2&3 (Saturday 5th July, Morning):

I wasn’t in the shop when these problems took place, but when I arrived at one, I was greeted with a slightly more hysterical boss.

Me: Hi! How’s the morning been?

Boss: Oh nae good, Jose…

OH NO, WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE? DID I LOCK EVERYTHING LAST NIGHT? DID I TURN OFF ALL THE LIGHTS? DID I SLEEP-WALK TO THE SHOP THIS MORNING AND DO SOMETHING TERRIBLE AND UNFORGIVABLE? 

Boss: Well, the card machine’s down in the post office (phew, I don’t work in the post office) and the till’s not linking with the computer so there isn’t a list of transactions, people are paying their account, but their amount is staying the same, and we probably won’t be able to cash-up tonight. And there’ll be another thing of course…

Me: What do you mean?

Boss: Bad luck comes in threes, doesn’t it? Something else will go wrong.

(Problem 1 obviously isn’t bad enough to count).

Problem 3 or 4 (Sunday 6th July, Middle of the Night):

Again, this problem took place when I wasn’t in the shop and again, I was greeted with an even more hysterical boss.

Boss: So, at three in the morning, the phone goes. Lovely lad on the phone, told him I was half-asleep. Anyway, the alarm had gone off. So I jumps out of bed, don’t even know what I pulled on, and we sped to the shop – pen and paper at the ready to take down any license plates (Mission Impossible, Spar style) but when we gets to the shop, everything’s jist fine, but then I spotted this bloody thing (points to blind covering drinks cabinet) it must’ve pinged up, setting off the alarm.

Yep, Mission Impossible Spar Style. I wonder who’ll star us in the movie.

So that’s this weekend’s dramas and traumas. Other than that, nothing too special happened, although I did notice that everyone smelled yesterday. They didn’t smell, but they definitely had a smell about them. I think it was because I finally spent £4.99 (£4.99!!!!!!!!!) on hay fever tablets and so my sinuses were set free after weeks of captivity. It was that cosy Sunday smell of coffee, biscuits, last night’s boos, and wet dog.

I liked it.

 

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