More Retail Griping

As in most places, there’s a Recession going on around here.

You can see it very clearly in the shops. They are simply not as busy as they used to be. People are not buying so much these days. So you’d think you might get in and out of the bloody places a bit quicker, wouldn’t you?

Yeah right.

On two separate occasions, the other day, I went into a shop and queued and waited and waited and queued. In each case, the solitary person behind the only manned checkout gazed wistfully at the other dark checkouts and doubtless wished for some help.

The shops weren’t dreadfully busy – there’s a Recession on, after all – but there was more custom than one measly till could handle. So I waited.

“Deal with it!” I hear you roar. “The shops are short staffed on account of The Recession, we all have to knuckle down and suffer together.”

It’s a good argument – except it’s totally wrong – and herein lies the rub. There was loads of staff in each of these shops. Gangs of the little feckers. But they were all out doing some nameless bloody stuff on the shop floor. They were all engaged in something-or-other instead of coming in and firing up till number two and letting me be on my merry bloody way.

And what were they doing?

One of the shops was the video rental shop. The poor bugger behind the counter was sweating diamonds and the queue was like a Miley Cyrus concert ticket line. Meanwhile yonder dozy pillock is out among the DVD’s apparently doing nothing more taxing than trying to figure out what he might bring home and watch that evening after they ejected the last of the un-served customers and shuffled off home.

In the other shop, where I was desperately trying to buy an umbrella, one of the floor-people – a guy – seemed to be seriously contemplating trying on a sports bra. I kid you not. Meanwhile, I was seriously contemplating stuffing said undergarment up his arse.

I eventually let the ‘umbrella mission’ go and walked home in the rain but, in the video shop, after five minutes of needless queuing, I cracked and asked whether the mega-star down in the romance section might sidle over here and let some of us poor bastards go home sometime tonight.

And he did and we all saw that it was a better way.

Moral?

Customers – Ask for another person to man a checkout… because you're worth it.

Retailer – I left your shop without purchasing anything for one reason only. Because 50% of your male sales staff were out checking out the bras. What does this tell you…?

…

… yeah, me too.

How It Felt To Be In My Coffin

(Some people may find this post a little disturbing, please be warned.)

Being a writer on set, you don’t have much to actually 'do', so I behaved much as I learned to do with the radio and theatre stuff – I kept my nose out of things and offered to help in any way I can.  As it turned out, being allowed along for the shooting of my short film ‘Channel 31’ yesterday allowed me to volunteer to do some quite outlandish things and left me with at least three experiences which I may never forget.

The fact that this 'day of remarkable memories' fell on my birthday only added to the special-ness of it all.

We started out filming in a real-live funeral home which, in true Irish fashion, had a pub out towards the front and a full-blown wedding going on out the back in a marquee.

We were meant to have a nice prop coffin but that fell through (no, not literally). The funeral director was most kind, though, he had a couple of real-life caskets on hand, waiting for the next customers to show up, and he was quite amenable to us using one of them.

So if you’ve got coffin to hand, all laid out nicely in the funeral home… you’re bound to want to give it a go, aren’t you? Well I certainly did and, soon enough, I was given an almost-legitimate reason for doing so. The actor who was spending time in the coffin was having a well-deserved cigarette out the back with the wedding-party and they needed a stand-in for the next set-up. Cue me to volunteer and climb into the coffin.

Can I just say again that this was the ‘Real McCoy’. The odds are good that by the end of the week somebody will be filling up that box for real. But for now it was my turn. In I climbed, the silky lining was cool and slinky but it did nothing to soften the hard wood beneath. If I were to describe the inside of my coffin in one word, I think it would be this: Snug. There’s not a while lot of room for doing stuff in there – which is probably as it should be.

I had a theatre play once where there was a real-life shotgun involved. Although it had been made-safe and certified as such by the police, there was still an aura of danger and unease about it. A character in the play had to put this gun into their mouth while another character prepared themselves to pull the trigger (are you getting a feel for my plays?). The point is that everyone joked about trying out this gun themselves but few did. It was like that with the coffin yesterday. I thought everyone would want a go – I saw it as a golden opportunity – and indeed it was. It gave me an unusual perspective on the funeral home and I fully expect it will fuel a nightmare or two somewhere down the line but that’s all to the good, right?

The second experience was funnier, well, less macabre anyway. We were just ready to shoot a short scene involving said casket when a traditional Irish quartet struck up in the garden to serenade the bride and groom. Again, being the useless writer, I volunteered to go out and try to silence them while the take was being ‘taken’ (note to self: learn more technical phrases). So off I went.

It was a tad awkward. The quartet were dressed up all nice and ‘trad’ – waistcoats and bowlers and shirt-sleeve-garters and such and they seemed most dubious when I asked them would they mind shutting up for a couple of minutes. Perhaps this was because the Bride and Groom were standing by waiting to be played-to. Still they obliged. The two minutes ran more like five but it actually felt like five hours. The 'coffin gig' was much much easier. My nightmares about holding up the wedding will be, I am sure, even more disturbing that the coffin ones.

The last five hours of the days filming ran from eleven p.m. to four a.m. and took place in a remote country graveyard which could only be reached across fields, walls, and farmyards. The sizable crew of actors, DOP, sound, lighting, makeup, costume, producer… who else, oh yes, writer, how could I forget? - we all trooped all of the equipment across this rural assault course and set up while the mid-summer sun reluctantly set and the moon enthusiastically rose. We had a few rain showers, were bombarded by enormous moths and spooked by the imposing old headstones but we got through it in the end.

My mission here was to dig some earth from outside the hallowed ground so we could emulate some digging inside without actually disturbing anyone or being in any way disrespectful. to the residents. So, midnight saw me digging hard outside the graveyard wall as the bats fluttered around and that moon glowered uncanny red through the low lying mists.

What did you get for your birthday Ken?

I got to spend it with new friends in a creative endeavour which felt like guerrilla film-making even though it was all done with permission.

I got to have some experiences which I am confident will stay with me until I once again fill up a casket.

And I got to see my beloved little film being made – and the shots, by the way, look stunning.

Beat that for your birthday, I dare you.

The A and E Song

(To the tune of Galway Bay)

If you ever go to A and E in Ireland
And get there at the closing of your day
You can sit and watch the loons row over nothing
And end up with a nice long trolley stay. 

And if they put you on an intravenous
And stick the needle in there all the way.
Be sure and tell them fill it up with Guinness 
Or else the feckers only give you tay. 

And if your leg's come over rather septic.
And they want to hack it off above the knee
Just pour a drop of Jamesons down your trouser
It'll fix you up and cure impotency.

So If you ever go to A and E in Ireland
And get there at the closing of your day
You may not get much medical attention
But the chapel's really nice for a wee pray.