One of those days

Becoming the Manager of Wonder Things wasn’t easy for Sherman. He didn’t have much in the way of people skills and he despised every one of his thirteen staff.

He was sure they didn’t like him either.

He always felt uncomfortable around others, every day he saw what he considered the mindless masses of humanity, pile through the shop doorway in search of bargains, trinkets and toys. His staff would go through their usual routines: smile, nod condescendingly, point and praise. But they were all dead inside, no better than zombies, every last one of them.

Sherman couldn’t really see the point in it all, every day had the same humdrum monotony. The same faces and places blending together so that life became a miserable grey ball of meaningless nothing.

Now thirty years down the line here he still was.

This morning was shaping up to be the busiest yet. It was Christmas time and already a little past eight-thirty. The shoppers were there even before the shop opened, peering in, faces pressed against the glass, their dull lifeless eyes watching his every move. Some it seemed to Sherman had an almost hungry look about them.

None had any brains. Just walking automatons waiting until death or old age stole away their pointless existence.

He was dragged from his mussing by one of the shoppers, a young boy wearing a baseball hat and black puffer jacket. He waved something under Sherman’s nose and asked.

“What’s this?”

Sherman barely glanced up, “Perfume,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Perfume,” Sherman repeated and then added, “women’s perfume.”

“Oh.”

Sherman busied himself with tidying his pencil next to his receipt stack, hoping the boy would go away, but he didn’t. He still lingered by Sherman’s side, saying nothing. After a moment of strained silence, Sherman said with forced politeness.

“Yes, anything else I can help you with?”

The boy seemed to mull this over for a short period.

“Yeah.”

Sherman waited for him to continue, but the boy just stared ahead in the same vacant manner. He got the impression it wouldn’t have made any difference if he waved his hands in front of the kid’s face; there was definitely nobody home.

“What would that be then?” Sherman prompted, when it became evident the boy really wasn’t going to speak.

“How much?”

Sherman reached over and with only the slightest trembling of his hand to betray his rising temper took the perfume and ran it under the scanner.

“Fifteen quid.”

“How much!”

Sherman coughed politely and then repeated the words, more loudly and slowly than before.

“Seems expensive.”

“Yes well, it’s a top brand, big name, know much about it do you?” Sherman felt himself snap a little.

"About what?”

“The perfume.”

“What about it!” The boy looked genuinely confused, almost incapable of following a simple conversation.

“The perfume do you know much about it?” Sherman enquired. His temper continued to rise and he tugged at his collar. Had it got hot in here?

“Yeah it’s a tenner.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and its fifteen quid.” Sherman’s voice rose into a high pitched shriek.

“All right mate keep your hair on.”

The remark sent Sherman’s left hand shooting up to touch his bald spot. His hair, once so thick and dark, had slowly been diminishing over the last five years. Always so careful to carefully comb forward in the morning, Sherman had been quietly confident that no one would have noticed the steady retreat of his hairline.

Taking a deep breath and counting to ten he asked, “are you going to buy it?”

“Nah.”

Sherman looked stunned.

“Well it’s a woman’s perfume in it?”

“Yes quite.”

The boy stumbled away.

It was going to be one of those days.



***


The shoppers wandered the isles looking blankly ahead, picking at objects seemingly at random.

Time passed.

Gradually Sherman became aware of an elderly man hovering near the till, stepping from foot to foot, with his hands pushed deep into the pockets of a faded leather jacket.

“Yes can I help you?”

“Sorry?” the old man replied.

“Can I help you?”

“Eh?”

Sherman had to fight the urge not to reach over and throttle the old geezer.

“I said would you like some ASSISTANCE.” He shouted the last word and noticed a few heads turn in his direction, somewhere outback he heard laughter.

The old man still seemed confused; he reached into his pockets and pulled out a crumpled note, which with deliberate slowness he handed over to Sherman.

Sherman unfolded it and read the spidery script contained therein.

To whom it may concern,

This is a hold up. I currently have a gun aimed at your head. Please empty the contents of your till and hand over all your cash.

Yours sincerely,

xxx.



Doubting his own eyes, Sherman read it again.

“Are you serious?”

He looked up into the barrel of a gun.

“Eh?” the old man said.

He looked serious; a quick glance around let him know that none of the other staff were about. No other customers in the queue, just him and Grandpa Death.

He thought for a moment.

“Look, we’ve just opened, all I’ve got is my float.”

“Say again sonny?”

“I’ve got no money.”

“No, its no good, I can’t hear you. Write it down on the back of the note.”

Sherman grabbed the pencil and scrawled, ‘have no money just opened’. Then handed it over, the old man took it and leant in close. While he did this Sherman looked closely at the gun.

It had Samurai Force written on the side of it and appeared to be made out of plastic.

“Can you write it in block capitals?” the old man asked, but Sherman was having none of it.

“It’s not real,” he snarled.

“What?”

“The gun, it’s a bloody toy.”

“Speak up?”

Sherman snatched the toy out of the elderly gentleman’s hand and shouted.

“A TOY. IT’S A TOY.”

Definitely caught the shoppers attention now.

The old man paused for a second as if uncertain of what he might do next and then broke down into tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he wept. “But I’m desperate for the money, my benefits not enough and I can’t afford the heating this winter. They won’t give me a crisis loan and my arthritis is playing up. My care worker is off sick and I’ve had to eat cat food all week just to stay alive.”

“Well yes, that’s fair enough, but you have just tried to rob me and…”

The old man continued to talk right over him.

“Of course no one comes to see me any more, none of my children, there’re all grown up now. I’ve got six you know. One moved to Australia three years ago and the other…”

Sherman felt his heart sink, what was the point, the police would probably let him go anyway.

He gave the toy back and the old man stopped talking.

“Leave,” he said. “Go on get out of here.”

“What?”

“I said you can go.”

“Go where?”

“JUST GET OUT.”

The whole shop fell silent and he felt a hundred pair of eyes upon him.

The old man never said another word and hurried out of the doorway as fast as he could manage.

Sherman felt his face redden and waited for what felt like an age until the next Christmas carol came on over the tannoy.

Sherman put his head into his hands. It was definitely one of those days.


***



Somebody else now stood before the till. Sherman forced himself to take a deep breath and looked up.

A beautiful woman stood there, smiling and holding a small bag of shopping.

“Hello,” she said.

“Um…hello,” Sherman quickly looked back down and tried to control his face from blushing.

She was gorgeous.

“Sherman Mitchell is it?” she asked.

Sherman looked up.

“Do I know you?”

She pointed to his name badge.

“Oh right sure. Yep that’s me. Like it says on the badge. Sherman Mitchel, Manager of Wonder Things.”

She seemed to consider something for a moment and then asked.

“Not the same Sherman Mitchell that went to St Michael’s on Waddam Street?”

“Yeah I went there.”

“It’s me Carole Miley, remember?”

“Carole,” Sherman blurted, a smile touching his lips. “Sure I remember you. Wow it’s been what, thirty years?”

He couldn’t place her at all, but there was no way he was going to let her know that.

She laughed and it was the most fantastic sound he had ever heard.

“Sherman Mitchell,” she whispered under her breath. “Old smelly Mitchell…”

Sherman’s smile froze on his face.

“Do you remember that’s what the boys used to tease you with at school.”

The day was never going to end.