Stop! Banner Time

OK, I realise 'Div Kids' is a strong term, but I didn't come up with it. We were in the pub (studying, obviously) situated quite conveniently next to the University building, when my fellow student James tried to make some kind of conversation that didn't involve Uni work.

'So, you work at a Supermarket, then?
'Yeah, outside.'
'What, trolley pushing?!'
'Yeah.'
'Oh, I thought you were on checkouts or something. I didn't realise you were one of the div kids!'



And so the name stuck for throughout the entire course. Still, I got a 2:1 in the end, James dropped out half way through and enrolled on one of those wishy-washy Media Studies courses. 15 Love.

Of course, I hadn't intended to come back here after graduating. But, as luck would have it, there are no jobs out there for me. I won't bore you with the details of what Biomedical Science is, just Wikipedia it if you're so inclined. I'm not bitter. I'm just frustrated. But i'm here now, a full-time porter. Pushing trolleys until I can find anything better. Still, it could be worse. I could be a cleaner. We all know the hierarchy.

GENERAL MANAGER

PEOPLE MANAGER

DEPARTMENT MANAGER

SECTION LEADER

NORMAL COLLEAGUE

PORTER

CLEANER

It's an unwritten, unspoken hierarchy, obviously. We wouldn't want to offend with such classification. But, it could written or spoken as most of the latter two don't speak much English.

Mondays start off reasonably slow. For the first ten minutes I watch the newest members of our team, twins Alex and Duncan, put up a banner advertising the new Toy Story film. They're here on a Special School apprenticeship, which would explain why it took them two and a half hours to put up. Both of them skin heads and heavy set, so I didn't have the nerve to tell them they'd nailed it to the wall upside down.

I go around clearing up all the loose trolleys, fishing out all the rubbish. Used baby wipes, empty packets of quavers and old scratch cards. I always check if they're winners. You never know, these people have children to take care of, they may not be paying attention. Either that or they're really messy eating crisps. On my break I flick through the free newspaper: Football journalists think England are the 'Best Team Ever' after a 2-1 friendly win over Uzbekistan. I'd agree, if half the opponents weren't part time window cleaners and mobile phone salesmen. I listen to a voicemail off my Grandad. I fade in and out. Something about cheap microwaves and a holiday in Blackpool. The message is deleted as soon as I reach the 'LoveHearts' page. I go straight for the 'Women Seeking Men' section. Not that I am one, but I love it when women describe themselves as 'Bubbly' or 'Lively' or 'Enjoys eating out.' When are they going to be honest and put 'Fat Lass.'?

An hour left in my shift and I'm not feeling well. The moron twins bore me by following me around, completing their list of '100 Reasons Why We Love Plane Spotting.' Again, they're big lads, so I don't pluck up the nerve to answer 'Because you have never kissed a girl.' In truth I was a little deflated about the job interview I'd had the Friday before. It was for a Labratory Assistant at Crewe University.

'So what are you doing now, now that you've graduated?', asked Mr Watkins with insanly bushy eyebrows.
'Well, I am currently working as part of a small team in a Supermarket. Maintaining the satefy of the customers, cleanliness of the store and with equipment such as trolley carts, disabled scooters and ladders.'

Well remembered. Glad I wrote that down.



'Outside?...With trolleys?'
'Yes, as part of a small team.'
'...With the div kids?'