I remember: Early work and rainy nights.

I have realized that there are many memories of my childhood and adulthood in my hometown of Aberfeldy in Scotland that stand precariously close to passing from memory into vague recollection - or worse, myth. In an attempt to stop this - and in trying to figure out the best way to commit these memories to fact - I have decided to open a series of posts here on Open Door which deal with my fond recollections of my lifestyle during childhood, adolescence and adulthood spent in Aberfeldy, deep in the heart of Perthshire, Scotland. These "memoirs", for want of a less gradiose word, will not come in any strict chronological order or be too stuffy or fact-perfect. Instead - they are to be treated as (what I would like to think would be) enjoyable and fascinating reading for you, and as a memory fail-safe for me.
The first is entitled "Early jobs and rainy nights"...
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The Co-Operative is the longest standing grocery store/supermarket in Aberfeldy which has not changed it's name or logo for what could possibly be centuries. It is located on the ground and 1st floors of an old, large, stone building dating back to the mid-1800s and is located on the east side of The Square, which is the central gathering point for commerce and roads in Aberfeldy (population 2,000).

Another interesting fact about "the Co-Op" as it is locally known is that almost every single youngster growing up in Aberfeldy is destined - from a very early age - to do a "stint" in it. This held no less true for me than it has for many other members of my family. I estimate I worked in the Co-Op between August and December, 1998. After quitting a job as an assistant Chef at a nerby restaurant (literally across the street from the Co-Op), I started work at the supermarket in the height of summer. I had no real plan in life - I only knew that I had to make money and, ergo, I had to work. My time spent at the Co-Op immediately preceded the attaining of a somewhat life-changing position at a local Estate Agents and Chartered Surveyor's office in town - but that will come later I am sure.

The Co-op wasn't the most fun place to work at - but then I imagine that no grocery store or supermarket ever is. I was shunted around between various positions - cashier, produce stocker, shelf-straightener, and bakery attendant. Sometimes I even did all of these jobs in one day if the staffing was horrendous. The bakery and cashier's jobs were the most tolerable - I used to cringe when the manager would ask me to begin unloading and unpacking one of the massive crates of goods and products that our deliveries came in. With stanely knife in-hand you would hack and slash and rip and tear at those damned things - and still your fingers would come away in worse shape than the external packaging of the very products you were trying to put on sale.

Mainly I was in control of the bakery and alcohol section of the store (lucky or what? :lol: ) - which, by some cruel twist of building desinger fate, was actually not attached to the main building at this point in time (the internal connection not coming until several years after I had stopped working there). The customers had to access the separate sides of the store via outside entrances - if you were an employee, you could run the gamut of boxes and back alleys and huge ass freezers in the staff section behind everything and eventually find yourself in the main section of the store, LOL. The mornings would start at 7:00AM for me if I was to be on bakery duty. I remember waiting outside in the complete pitch darkness of an October morning in Highland Perthshire - not even the faintest hint of dawn kissing the eastern horizon (which I couldn't see anyways as the huge 5-storey building the Co-Op was in blocked out that part of the sky). Standing, freezing my rear off (I didn't have enough sense at aged 18 to actually dress for the weather!), I would wait by the front doors until the manager or assistant-manager showed up to unlock the steel shutters and open the doors for the first of the staff. Occasioanlly, if we were all immaculately timed, the Bread Lorry would have pulled up in the background in The Square and they would slowly begin to trundle plastic pallets stacked ten and fifteen layers high with loaves of bread out into the street for us.

What ensued after being let into the shop for the morning was a bit chaotic for me. The very first thing that had to be done was fishing the bakery's bread, cakes, rolls and croissants out of the freezers so that they could be thawed and ready to bake according to the pre-set schedule. I used to curse until my tongue was blue with the cold in those huge freezers, clambering around on frozen boxes of baguettes and apricot danishes, trying to find the correct code number of roll I was looking for that particular day. Eventually - with only mild frostbite - I had my huge cart stocked and proceeded to my "kitchen" (which consisted of a HUGE toaster oven and a sink) to begin baking for opening time at 8:00AM. Happy days. :wink: It was quite a feat to keep the bakery stocked throughout the whole of the morning (mornings were the busiest times) I can tell you......I had never had any experience in stock-keeping before and now I found myself having to anticipate which things were going to run out faster than others.

There was a messy staffroom at the Co-Op which was littered with ashtrays, coffee cups, chocolate bar wrappers (morning breaktime was worthless unless infused with a suitably large Cadbury's Dairy Milk or some such goodness), and newspapers which were habitually always left open at the sports and horseracing sections. Across from this room was a stand of lockers for the employees - but I never utilised these on the grounds that I resented paying my employer for the use of a steel compartment in which to keep junk.

Around the corner, past the box compacter and towards the main staff entrance to the major grocery shop floor area was a small, dirty, dark doorway which led out - not into the Abyss as you may imagine - but into a small back alleyway which interposed itself between both of the buildings of the Co-Op (thus creating the aforementioned "split" effect in the shop's floorplan). This alleyway was the home of several huge dumpsters for the store into which they trashed all manner of unspeakable waste, boxes, bottles, broken merchandise and every other item of trash that kind of establishment could produce. This was also "smoker's alley", and it was where those who required a cigarette break congregated to relax. Having been a smoker myself during my stint at the Co-Op, I myself wound up out here on several occasions every day whether it was hot or freezing, pouring with rain or blowing a gale (which didn't affect the alleyway anyways as it was sandwiched between the two buildings), light or pitch dark. If I was lucky, there'd be a crowd or at least someone else out there to stand and moan about work with.

We all pretty much looked after each other, there at the Co-Op. There were the few exceptions (usually in management) - but all of the skivvies and go'fers treated each other well. A young kid by the name of Andy was always out there in the pouring rain with us, smoking, too. He was very personable - his family were originally from England. If you were a "kid" and worked at the Co-Op, you probably ended up at some point or another in Andy's house playing the latest computer games and sheltering from the cold pelting rain and dark nights that so often affected Aberfeldy in the winter.