Charity Shop

There is something I love about working in a charity shop.

Strange people.

Now, let me start the post properly.

I'm sorry I haven't posted on any days I'm supposed to post, I think I'll start getting back to it soon. You see, the whole routine of life has been turned upside down because of the holidays.

Saturday was one of life's busy days. Dad was out somewhere doing some plumbing for someone, Mum was trying to get the house really tidy with the help of the few kids who weren't with Dad, and I was quite happy to escape to the charity shop.

At least, I was until I got there.

Don't get me wrong here, I absolutely love all of the ladies who work there. I wish I could say the same about the customers.

Some of the customers are alright, the deaf lady who comes in is lovely - and I really like doing the translating for her. She's one of life's nice people. And there are a few 'regulars' who always have a smile for us, and a chat about woolworths closing down or the latest dog dying etc.

Then we move on.

"I've got a baby cot here, it's brand new. Here you are"

"I'm really, really sorry. Due to law and the fact that it may break when somebody buys it, and we could get sued, we're not allowed to take it" (I thought that was kind.)

"I would have thought even a "charity shop" would be less fussy" SLLLLLAAAAAAAMMMMMM goes the door in my face.

"Here is a bag, all full of my daughters clothes. There is some nice stuff in there"

"Thank you!" I say and smile. It's the falsest smile you've ever seen.

Ten minutes later:

"Constance!!! Who gave you that bag?? The woman put clothes on the top, and old sausage rolls, rubbish, old paper, pencils, milk cartons underneath"

"I knew she was a bad 'un" I say

"Constance! Come out here and get this off the top shelf for this young man"

(The young man is every day of fifty, but I guess that's young to them)

I come out of the back room, one pen in my hand, one behind my ear, and another clipped to my t-shirt (You NEED pens in a charity shop)

"Which man, Edna?"

There is only one man there. I come up to his elbow.

"Which one?" I smile cheerfully. He points silently to a flowery lampshade.

I get onto my tiptoes, pull it down and hand it to him.

He looks at it; looks at the price tag 1.75

"Too much" he shakes his head, and I put it back up.

Very, very, very, strange.

I whistle quietly as I waltz into the 'library' - the little room where there are books, videos, dvds and folders.

A very small man in a tight leather jacket (I HATE those things) jumps when he sees my arms full of videos, and my t-shirt with a couple of pens clipped on, and rushes past me. The videos go flying.

I watch him go, eyes narrowed, kneel down, pick the videos up, put them and way and turn round to pick up the dvd cases.

One after the other, after the other; empty. All empty.

There is something rather depressing about people who steal from a charity shop. I take the empty cases and put them in the bin, complete with the price tags I only put on 30 minutes ago.

I'm scowling now as I walk through to the clothing part of the shop, and come across an old lady, every day of seventy trying a pink sequiny jacket (age 13-14) on.

"What do you think??"

I flash her a grin and nod (You see, this is how to do it. I didn't lie did I?) and move on very, very quickly.

So quickly I collide straight into a huge big guy in ANOTHER leather jacket. He looked so scary I quickly felt my pockets to see if everything was still there. I've heard stories about people who bump into you, you see!

"Scuse me miss" I turn round to see a boy, probably about 11 years old.

I'm instantly flattered at being called Miss, and smile at him very nicely :) "Do you have any Play Station2 games in?"

I spend the next ten minutes going through our collection of Play Station 2 games with him

"Got that one"
"Got that one"

"Got that one"

I think you 'got the picture'!?

"We don't have any more" I say at the end of it all.

"That's okay" he says, and puts his hand into his pocket, brings out a half eaten lolipop and proceeds to eat it.

He's barely out of sight when a little girl comes running at top speed toward me, just about to crash into me. I decide to catch her.

"Watch it darling" I tell her "You're gonna get hurt one of these days"

She takes no notice, being of that age, you see, and grabs at a pin on my lapel.

"Sweetie?" she says

Actually, no, that is a 'Support Our Troops' badge.

Let's not start on that one, I'm too tired to argue about how much I don't support the war, but I do support the troops that are out there for as long as they are out there.

The mum of the little girl finally turns up, pushing a huge big double buggy.

"Schelonade come here" Well, that's how it sounded!

Maybe the child was named after the woman in Arabian Nights, however her name is spelt or pronounced

Mary comes walking into the back room, and says "I don't know about those people out there! That man and woman, letting their little girl run round awfully, while they're stealing. Constance dear, do you have the air-freshner?"

Mary is one of life's really nice people.

Whereas, the father of that little girl, turned out to one of life's horrible people.He managed to get away with some really expensive dolls under his coat.

You know what? I think this post is long enough, and my computer is messing up completely (You can probably see it, with the horrible spacing between my lines, it's driving me crazy!) so I think I'll disappear and sort it out!

Have a good week, whatever you're doing

Constxxx

P.S. Talking of Mary, she's quite ill at the moment, and is undergoing tests at Kings College hospital. Prayers would be appreciated.