I clock in and go to the store room. The tower is still there. My boss is standing next to the tower. I go and stand next to my boss. We stand there.
He says something fast and confusing about the bananas. It sounds like an apology. It sounds angry and frantic.
I don’t know where to put them, I say.
He says something about piles – about making piles of them around the shop or something.
He goes away.
There are other people working in the produce department with me. There are three of us. There should be four of us. One of them has called in sick. I am sort of in charge. We are all standing there looking up at the tower of crates. They are the replenishment assistants. I am the replenishment supervisor. I am making six p more an hour than them.
They don’t give a shit about this job. They are part timers.
Eight times six is forty two.
I will buy one banana with this money and throw it away when I finish my shift.