I worked in a stockroom, which magically turned into the shop floor when the place opened. My boss was a cow, complaining about how I could only work stock and not tills or service, and was “useless”. I showed her, by scowling a little as I walked away.
I opened many, many boxes as the place got busy. I opened one wooden box, which was full of mayonnaise (not in cartons, literally a box of mayonnaise). It was a big box, which looked a little like a midget’s coffin. When I realised I’d opened it in the wrong place, I tried to put the lid back on, but it had shrunk. For some reason I forced it, but the mayo splattered over the customer’s faces. There’s no way this part wasn’t a sex dream.
A former friend came in and informed me that he could buy printers with fake credit cards here. But only ones made by Wieden + Kennedy (the advertising company). I went with him to watch at the till, cos, you know, that’s pretty cool. It worked too (bear that in mind if advertising agencies start making office equipment).
I went for a walk on my lunch. Some rapscallions set fire to a petrol truck. The fire brigade turned up, but weren’t too concerned. They decided to put the fire out by towing the truck and driving really quickly, letting the breeze blow the fire out. So confident were the firemen, that they even let passengers ride on the top deck of the truck, which had turned into a bus.