“That can’t be right!” said the girl who was training me. “45 new p for half of lard?” I looked again at the price-sticker. Oh. I should have rung up 4 ½p. “I’ll have to get the manager to come and sort this out,” she sighed.

Oh dear. And the previous customer had gone so well. I’d already got plans for my first pay-packet: Chelsea Girl had a red short-sleeved V-neck jumper which was crying out to be teamed with my puffy white nylon blouse. Did they sack you if you made mistakes? I was fifteen – what did I know?
Continue reading →