It’s a chaotic day at work. The stockroom
has seemed to resemble a maze of staircases from my middle school and all the
stock seems to be kept in each of the classrooms. Rather than have a lift, we
are expected to carry the items down four flights of stairs; though we do have
a crashmat-styled trampoline to throw the heavier items down the middle of the staircase.
It’s also a quick way for us to get from A to B; although it’s a health and
safety nightmare. My boss who is blonde keeps shouting up from the ground floor
since that’s where the stock needs to go to. I’m suddenly realising that I’ve
got no idea how the stock gets there in the first place. Perhaps there’s a
chute into each room and we distribute the stock from the roof. I have a desk
on the second floor which prints each order onto a scrap of paper telling me
what I have to fetch from which room.
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