The Long Piss Goodnight

'Which one's Shelia again?'
'Grey hair. Glasses.' Steve tried to put her face to the name for me.
'No...'
'Her husband's the caretaker.'

I wasn't getting it.


'She pissed herself at the Christmas do.'
'Oh, Shelia. Yeah. Why is she leaving?'
'Retiring, we think. There's a collection going around. So far i've tried to avoid it.' Steve squirmed.
'Why?' Alex asked.
'Are you kidding? We've had six retirements since January, I've given enough.'
'Fair point.' Tommy backed him up.
'Anyway, they get enough, old people. Shopping carts. Free eye tests. Bus passes. 

I looked at Steve.


'Don't look at me like that, Dylan. Shelia's house is massive.'
'Just give what you can.' I suggested.
'Bollocks! She's got enough. What has she ever done for anyone else?' 
She runs a girl guiding troupe.' Said Alex. 'And she helps out at the homeless shelter.'
'I'm giving 50p.' Tommy smiled.

I have to admit, giving 50p maybe worse than giving nothing. At least Steve was sticking to his principals. 50p is tight. That's tighter than my Nan and she haggles in charity shops.


'Only because it's got a polo stuck to one side of it.' Tommy added.

How special. 50p and a dusty old polo. Calm down, Tommy. She's not Mother Teresa. I had to up the game.


'Well I'm giving two quid. That's the average, looking at that form.'
'There's a form?' Steve shouted. 'Jesus, she's retiring not doing a charity fun run for div kids!'

Steve scanned the piece of paper, squinting at it without his reading glasses on.


'Two quid. Two quid. Three quid. A fiver?!'
'Generous.' Tommy raised his ginger eyebrows.
'I thought retiring meant you stopped earning cash! She's getting more than I do in a month here!' Steve protested.

Alex pulled out the card Sharon had given him for us all to sign. It was unapologetically pink, A4 size with a huge frowning animated face on the front of it. But the huge frowning animated face wasn't the worst thing about it. The worst thing about it was the title of the card.


'Sorry for your loss?' I asked.
'So?'
'Sorry for your loss is a card for a funeral!'
'So what?' Steve shrugged. 'It's still a card.'

He was right. And what made it worse was the fact that the card was almost filled with signatures and messages from colleagues.


'Didn't they have any Happy Retirement ones?'
'Sharon said this one was the cheapest A4 one we had.' Tommy said.

Brilliant. Now we're giving a card to a retiring woman that basically says 'Sorry someone has died.'


'She'll be happy with that.' Steve looked at the card.
'Steve.' I fought back. 'How would you like it if someone give you this when you retire?'
'Ha ha...if I'm still here when I retire...ha ha...shoot me!'

Steve laughed, but there's nearly a 100% chance he will be.


'Let's see.' Tommy opened the card. 'Happy Retirement Shelia.' He read. 'Oh, I was going to write that.' He frowned.
'I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you wrote that too.'
'I've just put "Good luck, Alex."' Alex said.

Oh great, she's gone from being in mourning to getting ready for a job interview.


'What? It's better than what Steve's put!'
'What did you put?' I turned to him.
'Steve.'
'Steve!' I shouted.
'What? I've signed it haven't I? I might not be giving her any money but I'm not an animal!'

The canteen was covered with all the usual celebratory aperatus. Balloons, banners and primary coloured table cloths with fizzy drinks on them. A retirement is an odd thing and can be taken in different ways. Our ex-greeter spent his last day smiling and flirting with all the middle aged checkout women, whereas Sandra off the kiosk shouted at everyone ended up on the floor, crying in the milk aisle. But Shelia took the former, smiling in the middle table with managers surrounding her. Baskets, flowers and pretty white gift bags filled the table. All the porters were made to attend, so Alex, Tommy, Steve and I took our seats at the far table and tucked into the free sausage rolls.


'Ladies and gentleman.' Sharon stood and clinked her glass. 'Welcome to Shelia's retirement party. She is far too shy and get up herself and thank everyone, so from her, thank you. Thank you for your kind messages in the card and thank you for your donations.' 

Sharon knelt down and picked up the small bucket of coins along with a piece of paper.


'I have the names of the donators here and Shelia would like to thank them all. So thank you to...Gordon Mersy. Helen Chapel.'

Steve turned to us with a panic in his eyes.


'What is she doing?' Steve asked me.
'Reading the names of the donators.'
'Why?'

Sharon kept going.


'Roger Dreardon. Carol Little. Emma Freer.'
'Sharon!' Steve stood up. 'I don't think that's appropriate.' 

The whole room turned and looked at Steve.


'And why's that?' Sharon asked.
'Because...because we've all given generously and I don't think anyone needs to be singled out.'

Several colleagues told Steve to shut up as Sharon kept going.


'Dylan James. Tommy Krueger...'

Sharon scanned the width of the paper.


'50p!'

The whole room mumbled to each other. A few pointed over to Tommy and after a few seconds, all eyes were on Tommy's sweating ginger face.


'It was all I had!' Tommy stood up. 'Steve didn't give anything!'

All eyes shot over to Steve.


'What?' Steve raised his arms. 'At least I didn't piss myself at the Christmas party!'

All eyes shot back over to Tommy.


'No!' Steve shouted. 'Shelia! Shelia pissed herself at the Christmas party!'

All eyes shot over to Shelia. Who started to cry.



Happy Retirement Shelia.