Things I remember about working in Woolworths:
- cheese and celery sandwiches from Marks and Spencers
- serving Frank Bruno Easter eggs for his children
- Christmas cards; tonnes of
- a girl called Vicki being arrested for stealing from staff lockers
- smock-like tunics with buttons that always popped open displaying your knickers to all and sundry
- resigning (at the age of 16) because I couldn't cope with taking orders from an airhead
Why the reminescences?
The Guardian's editorial In praise of discordant shopping
I was scarred for life working in Woolworths. The very first thing that pops into my head when Woolworths is mentioned is music. (Well, I'm lying slightly; it's the second. One day after work I just had to take my tights off and did so in the street after carefully looking around. Unfortunately, I didn't look up and was greeted by a number of cheers from builders on the roof of a house).
We were subjected to the same music on loop for weeks at a time. Lionel Ritchie. The Carpenters. It was torture. For this very reason I would support shop workers in saying no to Muzak which according to Mr Treasure could mean 10% more sales.
Long and often anti-social hours standing on your feet for not a lot of money is bad enough without being forced to listen to absolute drivel. Let the workers choose.