Senshi1
Staff
- Joined
- Oct 31, 2004
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Yeah, haha, a funny MySpace title or something, heh no. I'm deadly serious - my shop was literally attacked by golfers tonight.
Normally this wouldn't raise many eyebrows, but this is a little shop in a tiny village - nothing ever happens here.
So anyway, there I was, behind the till, serving a queue of about four customers. When suddenly, somewhere between 6 and 10 men, about 30 years old, walk in - dressed head to toe as golfers - and line up behind the aisle so that all I can see is a bunch of heads.
Before I could think "wait a minute", they open fired on us with a barrage of biscuits, milk cartons, yoghurts and anything else they could reach. You know the scene from 300 where the arrows "blot out the sun"? Well these Jaffa Cakes blotted out the fluorescent lighting.
So there I am, behind the till, being bombarded with reasonably-priced tea time treats, and the supervisor is desperately trying to call 999, and what does the line of people do? Absolutely nothing.
Well, that's a lie. One guy pulled out his phone, called his wife and said "Hiya love, I'm gonna be a little bit late - some golfers are throwing things at us. Yeah, it's like Afghanistan in here."
Terrific! These people are risking life and limb to shop here, so I'm pretty much obliged to stand here and serve them. So I do. I stand there, and I dodge back and forth as the till area is bombarded relentlessly, and I scan goods and take money and give change.
The barrage steps up a notch, and a huge packet of McVities HobNobs slams against my till screen, sending it reeling, and just missing my nose by an inch.
Now the supervisor and two guys in army gear (seriously) start fighting back, and they manage to push the golfers back to the main door and slam the iron bars across it.
Now "Pearl Harbor" becomes "Zulu".
The staff and customers are stuck inside and the store is besieged by golfers (WTF!?). Just to make it worse, they manage to force the iron gate open again and start to force their way back into the shop.
Luckily at this point, the police arrived to put a stop to it. The leader got carted away and the others were shipped back off to Bridgend or wherever they came from.
Turns out we were the fourth shop they hit tonight. >_< They started out in a pub where they were stared out by the locals. Then they used intimidation and urine on another place up the road. After that they trashed a bar across the street, and our own little outpost of convenient late-night foodstuffs was their grand finalé.
* * *
So anyway, a few hours later, when the yoghurt had been scraped off the walls, the swinging wooden placards had been thrown away and the strawberry Nesquik powder was starting to settle over the debris, I stood hunched over behind the till, carving out a makeshift plaque onto some scrap receipt paper. Once I'd finished, I dutifully stuck it up for all to see:
Village stores are serious business.
Normally this wouldn't raise many eyebrows, but this is a little shop in a tiny village - nothing ever happens here.
So anyway, there I was, behind the till, serving a queue of about four customers. When suddenly, somewhere between 6 and 10 men, about 30 years old, walk in - dressed head to toe as golfers - and line up behind the aisle so that all I can see is a bunch of heads.
Before I could think "wait a minute", they open fired on us with a barrage of biscuits, milk cartons, yoghurts and anything else they could reach. You know the scene from 300 where the arrows "blot out the sun"? Well these Jaffa Cakes blotted out the fluorescent lighting.
So there I am, behind the till, being bombarded with reasonably-priced tea time treats, and the supervisor is desperately trying to call 999, and what does the line of people do? Absolutely nothing.
Well, that's a lie. One guy pulled out his phone, called his wife and said "Hiya love, I'm gonna be a little bit late - some golfers are throwing things at us. Yeah, it's like Afghanistan in here."
Terrific! These people are risking life and limb to shop here, so I'm pretty much obliged to stand here and serve them. So I do. I stand there, and I dodge back and forth as the till area is bombarded relentlessly, and I scan goods and take money and give change.
The barrage steps up a notch, and a huge packet of McVities HobNobs slams against my till screen, sending it reeling, and just missing my nose by an inch.
Now the supervisor and two guys in army gear (seriously) start fighting back, and they manage to push the golfers back to the main door and slam the iron bars across it.
Now "Pearl Harbor" becomes "Zulu".
The staff and customers are stuck inside and the store is besieged by golfers (WTF!?). Just to make it worse, they manage to force the iron gate open again and start to force their way back into the shop.
Luckily at this point, the police arrived to put a stop to it. The leader got carted away and the others were shipped back off to Bridgend or wherever they came from.
Turns out we were the fourth shop they hit tonight. >_< They started out in a pub where they were stared out by the locals. Then they used intimidation and urine on another place up the road. After that they trashed a bar across the street, and our own little outpost of convenient late-night foodstuffs was their grand finalé.
* * *
So anyway, a few hours later, when the yoghurt had been scraped off the walls, the swinging wooden placards had been thrown away and the strawberry Nesquik powder was starting to settle over the debris, I stood hunched over behind the till, carving out a makeshift plaque onto some scrap receipt paper. Once I'd finished, I dutifully stuck it up for all to see:
Never forget the brave few
who risked their lives under
heavy fire to protect stock
and serve customers.
Operation Six-Iron
Sunday 26th October, 2008
who risked their lives under
heavy fire to protect stock
and serve customers.
Operation Six-Iron
Sunday 26th October, 2008
Village stores are serious business.
