A Test of Character

As I sit here, listening to my favourite song at the moment, in the comfort of my own room, on my own bed, I am reflecting on what has been the most mentally tough night of my life. And I don't say that lightly.

I had that strange feeling that develops like a flower in your stomach at about 9:30pm that told me that something was going to go wrong. Either a mountain of small problems or one huge problem, but what I got instead was a mountain of huge problems. Again, I don't say that lightly and I am not joking when I say there were a few times tonight, where I thought I was in serious trouble.

It all started off reasonably OK, a busy queue for a couple of hours as is usual on a rowdy Saturday night, with most people donning their partying clothes to dance the night away and the usual lightweights who shout at you because you've locked the alcohol away. All in a night's work. Midnight came and went, with the queues getting noticeably smaller, I started re-stocking the chillers as has now become accustomed with the night-shift job since the change of roles. There was an impossible amount of crates to empty which didn't improve my mood, but to be fair, in hindsight, that was probably the highlight of my night.

The problems started at roughly 02:20. I had just finished re-stocking, The Brick Wall as he shall now be known, was on his break, and everything was cushty. I had a few customers, mostly entertaining and/or stumbling in and out of the doors with a 20 pack of L&B and a lighter and everything was going OK. I swear to God, I was just thinking, "What was I thinking earlier when I thought things were going to go wrong?", when it started. The Fire Alarm. Let loose like a tortured cat with spikes through it's claws, it wailed through the building like a World War 2 warning alarm and the words 'Emergency Procedure' flashed before my eyes. Think Mitten, think, what do you do? Obviously, Mr.Wall was useless so I had to figure it out by myself. Ok, switch off the pumps, close the forecourt, done, enter the code and go to the room with the fuses in. This room was round the back of the building, so I grabbed my useless Hi-Vi vest and the emergency torch and traipsed round the back, in pure darkness, with just a hole of light guiding me to my resting place. I thought someone was going to jump from behind a bin with a machete, but it wasn't to be. I reached the room. Reset the pumps and hey presto. It wasn't working though. Something wasn't working and the fire alarm still wailed it's way through the store like a pressurised Banshee. Why isn't it working? Never mind. Turn the alarm on mute. That worked. It saved our ears from extinction at least, but there was still the small matter of the pumps.

Nothing I tried worked. For 45 minutes, I muddled around, figuring out what to do and nothing. Customers came and went complaining of there being no fuel, and boy, were they angry. I can handle 22 rowdy players on a football pitch no problem, but give me 6 angry taxi drivers and an alcoholic wanting fuel for him and his car, and I'm as stumped as Kevin Pietersen. My patience came in handy and I felt I did OK in hoarding them off. Nothing I tried worked though, so we had no choice but to keep the forecourt closed. No business. The fire alarm went off again. What the hell is wrong with this thing?! I had to go through the whole process again...

"Well", I thought to myself, "Well at least Mr. Brick Wall isn't having one of his now legendary fits"... Yeah, you can guess what happens next. So now, I'm dealing with a wailing fire alarm, a fitting co-worker, 3 or 4 drunk/gangster/angry customers that grew to 7 or 8 drunk/gangster/angry customers and an exploding oven, (note: Exploding ovens may be added for effect). But seriously, this was too much to handle. I told myself, "stay calm and explain", but it didn't work. I panicked. I rang the manager, at 3 in the morning. Surprisingly, he was sympathetic and talked me through what to do and after 20 minutes of guidance and admittedly customer anguish, all was sorted. Still no pumps though, but I didn't care. I was alive.

I got in with my jobs. Hopelessly behind on schedule but I did my best and surely the manager, (the same one I rang), would be understanding in the morning. Mr. Wall had yet another fit just before the manager came, but to be honest, I was so tired and bothered that I let him get on with it. He damaged a stand and tore some bread in half, all captured on CCTV, so hopefully, fingers crossed, he'll fail against that evidence and never embrace our shores again. That's hopeful though. I'm not finished there though.. Oh no...

The time was about 05:20. Just after The Wall had finished his latest episode, a man, in a Hi-Vi jacket none the less, sprinted in and claimed that a man had collapsed down the road and he needed a phone to ring an ambulance. The first thought that entered my head was, "Is this some sort of test?", but no, a man was in danger so I handed him the phone. That phone, the work one, didn't work though. With a man probably bleeding to death, I handed this stranger my mobile. He ran off with it, to look for the man and thankfully brought it back and said the ambulance had turned up. The fire alarm then went off ... No, I am only kidding, nothing else untoward happened, unless you count me staying behind 45 minutes to do a "re-cap" on the emergency procedures. Why do I need a re-cap after spending the whole night carrying them out? Management are strange - fact.

Well, that's the story of my night. 8 hours of pure and hellish tasks filled with dread, desperation and holding on for dear life. Come 6:45, when I eventually got to go home, I clambered into my car, aching from head to toe, and simply laughed. What else can you do?

Ciao x