Tag Archives: Jobs

82. It’s because…

I’m not in love, so don’t forget it…

We lasted four days in the job, Snopake and I, and then she fainted and we chucked it in.  The boss said that it was just as well; we were too slow anyway.  We’d have been quicker if we hadn’t worn gloves, he said.  But then, we would have been constantly pricked by thorns as we counted out a dozen roses, wrapped them in cellophane, counted out a dozen roses, wrapped them in cellophane, counted out…  The thorns penetrated the gloves anyway, but luckily our hands were anesthetised with cold.  The roses needed to be refrigerated, so we were too. Even 10cc – always on the radio that summer – didn’t make it bearable.  He settled up; we stepped gratefully into the sunshine.  July 1975.

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