AN INDEPENDENT REMEMBERS


“THE GLAZED EXPRESSION WAS A BIG CLUE”


The mad rush of deliveries, clueless customers and a surprise in a carrier bag – our independent hardware retailer takes a step back in time with part 16 of his stories from the shop floor


T


uesday was early closing day; an ancient custom that allowed shop workers time off, either to tend their


own First World War victory gardens or maybe allow them to go shopping themselves, though they’d need to visit another town as all the local shops would also be shut.


This was the day when the boss did the bulk of the deliveries to our customers. It was so much easier back then because not every house had a car – let alone two – and the streets were virtually empty of parked vehicles and those who did drive tended to be out at work or, if unemployed (a growing trend with all the early-1980s’ redundancies), couldn’t afford to run a car. So, parking was easy. We also delivered during Friday lunchtimes; this was before I’d persuaded the boss to stay open and catch the lunchtime trade. But it was one hell of a rush to get loaded up, close the shop, get the car out into a busy street and then set off with large sheets of hardboard, chipboard and plywood strapped to the roof rack. Inside there would be umpteen bundles of sawn-to-size redwood (nothing like the rubbish we were later forced to sell that had been planted, grown, felled and seasoned all within a few months – okay, so I exaggerate but after all these years dealing in timber whose quality doesn’t even equate to “poor”, I think you’ll get the message). Oh, and not forgetting the five-gallon drums of paraffin rubbing shoulders with each other like demented Daleks. Yes, we were


16 DIY WEEK 8 SEPTEMBER 2017


like a travelling incendiary device, all on a busy lunchtime in recession- blighted Britain. On Fridays it was always a mad dash to get back to base in time to open for 2pm. On one occasion we were so late, with two deliveries still on board, that the boss told me to run back to town and get opened on time. He thought the four-minute mile was merely an average.


Railing against Woolworths Due to lack of space our choice of stocked curtain rails was limited: Harrison Glideway (a plastic-coated copy of the traditional girder- style brass rail), Harrison Drape in aluminium and Decorail with its distinctive and highly popular, fleur-de-lys design. We cut this to length from a roll, saving lots of space over standard lengths but rather like dealing with a snake on steroids. Same with the Glideway. This was another product range I was looking to expand once we had, well, expanded. People were constantly asking for


spare parts for all manner of rails. For years the boss had been turning people away but I saw potential profits walking out the door and decided to overrule him, setting a place in the main window to show that now we also stocked all of the Swish fittings. Hmm, so when they expected us to also sell the Swish rails my frustration could be measured on a Geiger counter. If only the walls had been elastic; 30-odd years later and I don’t believe they’ve yet come up with a solution for this. One particular glidehook request used to annoy me like mad: square in section, similar to the Harrison Super


Drape but with a larger top hook. I hear some of you shouting its name. Of course it was the much-maligned, and deservedly so, Winfield brand, courtesy of Woolworths.


Not content with taking sales away


from dedicated hardware stockists, the local branch didn’t stock their own spares and I later learned that such decisions were at the branch manager’s discretion. The company ethos seemed to be to deprive local independents of any sales of any items they chose. Then there were those people who were convinced they could identify the hook they wanted simply by looking at our stock and in almost every case they couldn’t; the glazed expression was a big clue. We requested that, once home, they compared their old hook using the useful see-through packets but they’d simply rip them open without thinking and return, expecting us to sell them at full price to someone else, yet they wouldn’t have wanted to buy them in that condition.


A real charmer


On the Friday I ran back to open up by 2pm, a young woman was waiting for me, who I recognised


On Fridays it was always a mad dash to get back to base in time to open for 2pm


from a local shoe shop. Grabbing my arm, and blurting her distress all over me like a teenager’s dandruff, she dragged me back to her place. No, it wasn’t likely to be as promising as it sounded because, even at that tender age, I could tell when someone wanted my body for something that reeked of innocence and hard work.


She had found a suspect length of


rope hanging from the cold water tank which hadn’t been there the previous day. So why had she called me and not the police? Because she trusted me. Over the next 20-odd years I would hear these words on countless occasions. Anyhow, it didn’t look like rope to me, so, using the inside of an old carrier bag (a technique to be later used by responsible dog-walkers), I removed the deceased snake, for which I made no charge.


I found the shop packed with customers waiting while the boss was making up an extension lead for an impatient man. Later, having cleared the happy, satisfied customers, I asked if he’d seen the old carrier bag I’d left on the counter. “Aye,” he said, “I put that chap’s extension lead in it.”


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