In a previous life (before being a teacher, civil servant and a bookkeeper) I was a sub-postmaster. My modesty prevents me listing my accolades but suffice to say there will be time for immodesty later.
During my 8 years, I saw many, many things that caused me surprise. I also say a few that caused me anger. The blog today is about one of the incidents that caused a bit of both.
Within my emporium I sold, amongst many other things, fruit and vegetables. The weighing scales that I inherited were capable of weighing up to 14lb. The most frequent use for these scales was to weigh potatoes out. The standing order was 5lb. It became quite easy to weigh out exactly 5lb of spuds. I was proud of my ability.
Some of my customers were school friends, some were family friends but, most bizarely not many were my family. My mum would come into the shop quite often but neither my dad or brothers ever stepped foot into my shop.
Until one day. My dad came into the shop.
I was the nearest shop to my parents' home but I wasn't on their normal flight path. This must be a desperate time for my dad. Why on earth would he choose to spend his money with his own son now? After 5 years?
I stood there like a proud proprietor. I greeted him. "Morning Dad."
"5lb of potatoes." No please. This was a transaction. No time for pleasantries.
I took my dad's bag off him. It was one of those heavy cloth ones that were popular in working class villages before plastic bags took over. Before Jute bags then dominated.
I placed the bag on the scales.
I skillfully filled the bag and handed it back to my dad.
"50p please" I said.
My dad snorted. He shook his head. "Nay lad, you didn't take the weight of the bag off. I'm not paying for the bag."
I laughed at him. I always knew my dad had a sense of humour. I held out my hand for the money.
Some people will think that I should have given them to him for nothing. However I know that he would have been quick to tell folk that I didn't know how to run a business. My dad is no Richard Branson but he is as tight as they come.
"Weigh them again without the bag. Then put the taties in the bag. Tha robbing me."
Needless to say I did as asked. My dad left the shop with his 5lb of spuds. I got my 50p.
That was the only time he came into the shop. That wasn't the only time that he surprised me though.
Coming soon...Through the turnstiles of Oakwell.
During my 8 years, I saw many, many things that caused me surprise. I also say a few that caused me anger. The blog today is about one of the incidents that caused a bit of both.
Within my emporium I sold, amongst many other things, fruit and vegetables. The weighing scales that I inherited were capable of weighing up to 14lb. The most frequent use for these scales was to weigh potatoes out. The standing order was 5lb. It became quite easy to weigh out exactly 5lb of spuds. I was proud of my ability.
Some of my customers were school friends, some were family friends but, most bizarely not many were my family. My mum would come into the shop quite often but neither my dad or brothers ever stepped foot into my shop.
Until one day. My dad came into the shop.
I was the nearest shop to my parents' home but I wasn't on their normal flight path. This must be a desperate time for my dad. Why on earth would he choose to spend his money with his own son now? After 5 years?
I stood there like a proud proprietor. I greeted him. "Morning Dad."
"5lb of potatoes." No please. This was a transaction. No time for pleasantries.
I took my dad's bag off him. It was one of those heavy cloth ones that were popular in working class villages before plastic bags took over. Before Jute bags then dominated.
I placed the bag on the scales.
I skillfully filled the bag and handed it back to my dad.
"50p please" I said.
My dad snorted. He shook his head. "Nay lad, you didn't take the weight of the bag off. I'm not paying for the bag."
I laughed at him. I always knew my dad had a sense of humour. I held out my hand for the money.
Some people will think that I should have given them to him for nothing. However I know that he would have been quick to tell folk that I didn't know how to run a business. My dad is no Richard Branson but he is as tight as they come.
"Weigh them again without the bag. Then put the taties in the bag. Tha robbing me."
Needless to say I did as asked. My dad left the shop with his 5lb of spuds. I got my 50p.
That was the only time he came into the shop. That wasn't the only time that he surprised me though.
Coming soon...Through the turnstiles of Oakwell.
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