War Of The Girls: Trolley Pusher Tommy

I dread to think of the tension at that flat when Steve got there, still confused and angry about Darren poaching Mary over to the checkout team. It was a bold move but I can see why he did it. As well as being a Goth who dabbles in scary amateur wrestling, she's also a sweet and warm girl, most probably wasted as a trolley pusher. Steve attempted to play it cool, though.

'You know in those films, when there's a bloke ready to argue and explode. So he waits for his perfect opportunity and then just goes mental!'

'Yeah...' I nodded.

'Well, that didn't happen.' Steve frowned. 'I couldn't find the time. I drove to Birmingham in silence. She was nervous...I was too confused...'

'You didn't enjoy the exhibition, then?'

'What? Of course I did. It's World Of Warcraft, dude!'

Apparently that meant something. They had a little bicker when they got back. Mary had gotten friendly with some of the checkout girls and was delighted to find Darren wanted her permanently after her back surgery.

'You're not pissed off then?'

'I was. But it's the way it is, dude. Keep on rockin' in the free world...'

This sense of ease felt really uneasy. Something wasn't right.

'I have a plan.' He said, widening his eyes.

'A plan?'

'Darren took Mary. I'm going to take one of his precious staff.'

'That's your plan?'

'Yeah...'

'That's not a plan, it's just revenge.'

'Yeah, a revenge plan.' He nodded.

'Fighting fire with fire?'

'Yeah, my Fighting-fire-with-fire-revenge-plan.'

It sounded clever and devious enough. But all it involved was Steve buddying up to a checkout colleague. Two hours later he reported back to me in the canteen whilst I was enjoying a quiet sandwich.

'It's not going well.' Steve sighed, throwing himself down in front of me, making my can of fanta shake a bit.

'No?'

'No. I've spoke to about twenty odd of them! Nothing.'

Steve got his scruffy little notepad and flicked through a few pages, popped on his reading glasses and began his list of disappointment.

 'Four of them think trolley pushing would be tedious. Three of them think it would be too boring. Over half of them think it would be both tedious and boring.'

'Shocking.'

'Gordon didn't even know the job existed, so I had to explain what we do!'

I bet that took at least 15 seconds.

'Two of them were students...No girls wanted to do it...I'm all out of ideas.' He sighed again.

'What about him?' 

I nodded over Steve's shoulders towards Tommy, a young lad half way though a plate of chips. I chat to him on Saturday mornings when I'm filling up his checkout with bags. We have a bit of small talk, you know, the usual. Last nights sleeping habits, breakfast menu and tonight's arrangements. Nothing special. He seemed nice enough, with reddish curly hair and a few youthful spots scattered over his face.

'You think?' Steve asked.

'Yeah, it's Tommy. Seems nice.' I shrugged.

'OK, let's go...'

'What?'

'Let's go...sit next to him.' Steve said, getting up.

That gives off the wrong impression, don't you think? Two men switching tables all of a sudden and sitting next to a young lad. It's either a weird come on or a massive threat. I don't know which one is worse, to be honest. 

'Just you.' I said quickly. 'Have a chat.'

Five minutes into their conversation and Steve was on fire, his hand on the back of Tommy's chair to keep his attention. Tommy seemed interested enough and a couple of seconds later Steve was back over to me.

'I think we have our winner.'

'Yeah?'

'Bored of checkouts.'

'Tick.' 

'Loves the XBOX.'

Natch.

'Fan of 70's prog rock.' Steve smiled.

'Splendid.'

'Oh, hang on...'

Steve turned his back and shouted over to Tommy.

'You're not a student are you?'

'No.' Tommy said softly.

'Perfect.'

So, apparently we had got our man. As much as I thought it was a somewhat childish knee-jerk reaction to Darren's poaching, you have to hand it to Steve. It was amazing to see him get things done. It normally takes him 20 minutes to get something from his car, in under 24 hours he'd lost a colleague and replaced her before anyone knew what was going on. Of course, he had to get Darren's permission.

'I went in there, guns a' blazin'...said my piece. Told him straight.'

'Oh yeah?' I asked.

'Yeah. Then when he got off the phone he asked me what I was shouting about. So I told him again. Guns a' blazin'. I said my piece and told him straight.'

'What did he say?'

'He said fair enough. Well said. He's ours...done.' Steve nodded.

That sounds a little strange. I decided to make my that-sounds-a-little-strange noise.

'Hmmm...'

'What?' He asked.

'Darren just...gave you a colleague?'

'Yeah, so?'

'There might be something wrong with him.'

'Of course there isn't. He's completed all Grand Theft Auto's. Knows all the lyrics to 'Spirit Of The Radio.' What more do you want?'

Sounds like a normal teenager to me. At 2pm, Tommy had finished his final checkout shift and thanks to Darren's suggestion, we were showing him around the car park to get a feel for his new environment. The paperwork was going through and a new shirt was ordered for him. I felt like an estate agent, showing a potential and somewhat reluctant buyer around a show home. Steve led the way.

'We have 6 trolley bays in total. Three of them stick of piss. A tramp usually sleeps in the far one. Lovely bloke, he's called Twixsy.'

Steady on, Steve. Don't big it up too much.

'Right.' Tommy smiled. 

Steve was right, he did seem like a normal lad. He nodded and smiled in all the right places, asked the appropriate questions. Then we realised what was wrong with him.

'Oh, no...' Tommy grimaced and look up to the skies. 'It's starting to rain.'

Me and Steve said nothing. It's the kind of statement that doesn't need a reply.

'I don't like the rain.' He looked at us with tired eyes. 'I can't do thunderstorms either. Far too loud.'

'It's OK.' Steve said. 'We've ordered you a coat.'

'Is it thick, though? Like, really thick?'

'I think so.' Steve nodded.

'Not too thick, though?' Tommy asked softly.

'Well...I don't know.'

Tommy was a girl. A big girl. No offence to girls. I know girls who sleep in tents in the pouring rain, walk for miles in thunderstorms. Don't ask me why I know these girls, but Tommy wasn't one of them. He was afraid almost everything. In a matter of seconds we got it all. Rain. Thunderstorms. Dogs. Men with dogs. Dog hairs. Dirty water. Pigeons. It was amazing he ever get's out of the house. Steve was up in Darren's office before Tommy started again.

'Darren, the paperwork hasn't gone through, has it?'

'Just sent the e-mail. Why?'

'I don't think Tommy's right for the job.' Steve shook his head, sitting down at the desk.

'Why's that?'

'Just got a feeling.' He shrugged.

'Is it because he's a moaning, whiny teenager?'

Darren had managed to hit the nail on the head. Oh, shouldn't say that. Tommy's afraid of nails.

'Might be.' Steve said softly, looking down.

'Steve.' Darren leant forward in his chair. 'Do you not think I knew that? He's worked for me. Every two seconds it's "Darren, can I go to the toilet?" "Darren, can I get off my till I think it's got germs on it!" "Darren, can I go early?" And now he's yours.' He smiled. 'Enjoy.'

A poaching backlash. Didn't see that coming.