J.E.R.S.E.Ys

It’s soon time for the Jersey Enterprise Retailer Survey Enterprise Yearly. It’s basically the annual awards for the retail trade in Jersey and it’s the one event in the year when people like me have a chance to be lauded for the hard work we put in. A real chance to let our hair down. We won’t win, of course, in any category. We’d have a chance of winning if Enrique would let us get a Slush Puppie machine but the fucker won’t. Why? Because he’s got no brains. When he dies of an overdose the first thing I’m doing is putting in for a Slush Puppie machine. They’ve got one in the town branch.

Even if we had a Slush Puppie machine it would be a big ask. Waitrose recently opened over here and they sell everything else you could possibly think of. Nobbly vegetables from the Far East and about 10 different brands of barbecue sauce. One made of Jack Daniels! We don’t even sell olive oil.

Holy fuck, the initials of the awards spell JERSEY like what where we are! That’s creepy. What are the odds on that? That is amazing. That’ll blow Paula’s mind.

Our competition isn’t just the likes of Waitrose. See, they’re retail awards so that includes everybody from the Sub-Marcels who run and operate the Co-op to people who work in Specsavers. Specsavers! Those eggheads are basically real scientists.

The Co-op is a funny old shop. And by that I mean not funny at all. I had the misfortune of shopping in there recently and at the checkout the cashier had trouble with some of the fruit that needed weighing. She consulted her code sheet but it was no help – I felt a bit for her, it’s annoying when things aren’t on the sheet. She called for the supervisor who eventually turned up. I thought she was going to ask her supervisor the code but instead she goes, “what’s this?” Her supervisor screwed her face up for a bit – forty seconds maybe – and then unscrewed it and just shook her head and walked off. I jumped in with a bit of humour. “It’s a kiwi!” Because I still thought it was just the code they didn’t know.

“I ain’t never not seen a fing like dat before!” Drooled the person who works in the Co-op.

“Well… it’s a kiwi,” I said, not sure if I was now having my leg pulled.

“Quack quack?” Enquired the cashier as she looked up at me, her thick glasses crooked.

“Kiwi,” I replied, frightened all of a sudden.

“Kwee kw kwee wee kw.” Her head was beginning to shake but she kept trying to say it. She was broken. “Kwer kwee kwi kwick kwick.

“I’ll leave them.” I told her. I was only getting them to play a trick on Enrique.

“Quack quack?”

“Yeaaahhh. Okay.”

All the apples were bruised too.

I’ll shit if the Co-op win an award over us.

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