Sold Out

(Note: this is inspired by things that are happening at work at the moment to people I care about. It’s an extrapolation and doesn’t mean I’ve lost my job, so please don;t worry - yet!)

SOLD OUT

The shop is a funny place after closing time, when all the customers have gone, and the displays are no longer trying to impress. Not all the lights go out, and instead of being pitch dark, the whole store is bathed in a gentle, dull yellow light. The normally gleaming products retreat into the dusk, and there’s just enough light left in the building to make your way along the aisles without bumping into the fixtures.

Or at least, that’s how Morris remembered it. Right now, there were no normally gleaming products, and the dusk was embracing only empty shelves. The shutters were down over both windows, so the only light coming from outside was coming through the clear glass door, tinted red by the opaque red poster stuck to the glass: CLOSING DOWN SALE – ALL STOCK MUST GO.

And all stock had gone. In its final days, for the first time in what felt like ages, the store had managed to succeed at something. Morris grinned to himself. If only the floods of customers who had come for a bargain over the last week had stopped by more often, there would be one less empty store on the retail park, and one less fifty-five year old unemployed man, standing in the dim light of his former livelihood, and wondering what on earth he was going to do with himself now.

Just hours ago, still with some stock on the shelves, Morris had been in his element, doing what he did best. The buzz of a busy day, moving from customer to customer, putting every penny possible in the till, like he’d always been told. But too late to save anything. He was just seeing it through to the end now. It was only right. Washing machines, TVs, fridges, computers; the stock was flying out, and Morris wished they’d not had to lay all the warehouse staff off the year before. With only Morris, Karen and two salespeople left, it was a challenge. But then again, they didn’t have to worry about impressing these customers enough to bring them back again. Repeat business only matters when your business is still going to be open in the morning.

He thought back to the day he’d been promoted to Store Manager. He’d been so proud. Karen and all the other admin girls had bought him a posh new shirt and tie from the department store that used to be the best and busiest place in town. It was a pawn shop last time he’d been past. Robin, the Area Manager had come over especially to shake his hand and sign his new contract. He’d already been Deputy Manager for five years, but now he had his own store, and he was going to make it work.

And for almost three decades, make it work he did. Unlike most managers, Morris had been with the company since he’d left school at sixteen. Five years as a salesman, five years as Deputy Manager, and twenty-nine years as Store Manager, there was nothing Morris didn’t know about his business, about his customers, and about his colleagues. People loved working for him, because he cared more than most bosses. Whenever his staff told him that, he always felt proud.

And now, here he was, in his empty store, standing in the dim light.

“There you are,” said a voice behind him, “we thought you’d have joined us to get unspeakably drunk by now.”

Karen, his administrator, was stood behind him. He smiled as she moved closer, and took hold of his hand.

“I couldn’t face it,” he said, “not just yet.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s a tough job, saying goodbye to this place.”

“Do you remember when we opened this store?” he asked.

“Yeah, how could I forget? Grand re-opening, brand new out of town Retail Park! Such a bright future we had. The store was state of the art, so much better than the old place!”

“And busier,” Morris laughed, “that first day was even busier than today! Do you remember?”

“Yeah, but at least we had more staff back then. There were about thirty of us, all working that launch day. And the guys from the local stores!”

“Yeah, I seem to remember you appreciating the guys from the local stores!” Morris said.

“Well, I was a young girl back then. I had a lot to learn!”

“Yeah, well you turned out OK in the end,” Morris said. He’d always liked Karen. She was clever, and witty, and funny and incredibly good at her job. The store never failed an audit, and the customers used to love her.

“You didn’t do too badly yourself, boss,” Karen said, gently.

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters anymore, does it?”

“Don’t you ever say that,” Karen said, and Morris could hear a bit of anger in her voice, and could see her trying to keep it in check, “none of this is your fault. Not one of us in these stores did anything wrong. Just because the boys above were so busy aiming for silly targets and statistics, just because they forgot that the most important thing is keeping the customers happy and putting money in the till…”

“Well, we can’t blame it all on the bosses,” Morris said, “There is a recession on. People are buying less, when they are buying they’re doing it online…”

“I know,” Karen said, “but the idiots above had so many warnings, and so many chances to make it better, and every single time, all they did was focus on the things that don’t matter.”

Morris couldn’t disagree. The amount of times in the last five years that he’d been sent on new training courses, or had to endure stupid conference calls because senior management had decided on yet another new direction that was absolutely going to turn the company round and put them back in profit, and was in no way going to be an unmitigated disaster like the similar initiative that had launched and failed six months before. The business had got too big, and had forgotten the little things that had once made it great.

“You’re right,” he said, “but then again, you were always a clever girl.”

“Is that why you hired me?”

Morris laughed at that. “Yes, that must’ve been it.”

“It’s funny,” Karen said, “for me, you were the one that hired me. So you were here at the beginning, and you’re still here at the end.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Morris said, “I guess I’m still struggling to accept that this is the end.”

“You’re still wearing your badge,” Karen said, pointing to the gold nametag on Morris’ tie. MORRIS. STORE MANAGER.

“I guess I’m just not ready to take it off yet,” Morris said, his face a picture of sadness.

Karen unzipped her jacket. For a moment, Morris wondered what the hell was happening, then he saw, attached to her blouse: KAREN. SENIOR ADMINISTRATOR. “Me neither,” she smiled.

“How about we do it together?” he said.

Karen laughed. “I always knew you had a soft spot for me!”

Morris blushed bright red. “No, no, I didn’t mean that… I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” Karen said, still smiling, “but then again, you’re not my boss anymore!”

“Is that a good thing?” Morris asked.

“Who knows?” Karen smiled, “it could be.”

Morris unpinned his badge, and put it down on the counter. Karen did the same. Together, they opened the door. Karen stepped out into the cool of the night first. Morris turned, took one last look at the empty store. He hit the master switch, and even the dim lights went out, covering the store in darkness. Morris turned away, stepped into the night, and locked the door behind him.

Force and Feeling

Channeling forces I don't know the name of,
Feeling feelings I forgot the shame of,
Painting pictures with these words from places
Where we left all our forgotten faces.
Abstract  notions that betray our feelings,
Climbing higher 'till we hit the ceiling,
Forces found within the music playing,
Have to say I don't know if I'm staying,
Or going away to somewhere warm and kinder.
Send a postcard and I'll come and find you.