Back to Work and Disorganised Chaos

Visitors and other commitments now dispatched, I have resumed my weekly shift at the animal charity shop, working as a volunteer.

I am now flying solo.

Last Monday, the 17th, was my first day back after several weeks’ break, and it was manic! I opened the shop and had barely checked the float when, within minutes, the place was full of eager customers, and the only changing room was constantly occupied.

Bombarded with a barrage of questions in Portuguese, Spanish, French et al, with only a smattering of English, I felt my head was about to implode as I grappled with the language barrier.

And it was HOT. Eyeball-melting hot.

I smiled. Don’t you find a smile goes a long way when you feel absolutely clueless and want to eat someone alive? “Beam me up, Scotty,” came to mind.

Thankfully, during my holiday break, I’d studied a few Portuguese podcasts about buying clothes, so at least I recognised a few words. What is the saying? “A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing”?

Yep.

Halfway through the night, I woke with a start. Strange how things ferment in our subconscious when we are meant to be asleep.

The word trocar whirred around in my brain.

I cursed as the memory of the woman holding up a dress came into focus and her full sentence suddenly conjugated itself in my brain.

No, she wasn’t asking if I had change. She was asking me if, in the event that the dress didn’t fit, she could exchange it.

Oops.

I said yes.

Guess who would be in the doghouse if she brought it back?

We don’t exchange items.

Anyway, I worked this Tuesday morning and, once again, the shop was manic. Not only were we selling clothes and bric-a-brac, but people were also bringing in stock donations.

And no, they were not happy just to leave the bags in which they had brought the stuff.

Absolutely not.

I had to unpack each bag and then dump the contents into piles in the storeroom while they waited, all while trying to serve customers and answer questions at the same time.

I was so busy I never even had time to replenish the clothes on the rails as stock flew out the door.

I eyed the growing chaos: empty hangers, piles of new stock, the disaster zone under the counter where I’d searched for a pen, wet wipes and a calculator, and the change that had spilled out of the wonky cash box.

Arrrrggghhhhh!

Of course the biro was faulty and leaked ink everywhere — on me, my clothes and various other sundries.

And, to my dismay, the usual pack of wet wipes were nowhere to be seen!

God only knew what the changing room looked like after the steady stream of customers trying on clothes.

I prayed for the person relieving me on the afternoon shift to come in early so I could tidy up, cash up and have a pee before Mr P picked me up.

It got to 12.59 and I had that sinking feeling — you know, like a sixth sense — that no one was coming to take over.

Then, just as I was once again trying to cash up, a woman arrived, and even though it was time to shut up shop, I said ‘bom dia’ with a cheery smile that didn’t quite reach my toes.

Sigh…

Of course she had to pick that moment to embark on a discussion about at what point bom dia became boa tarde aka one officially became the other.

I continued trying to cash up. Kept my head down as I recounted the money for the THIRD time, but she persisted! Is it boa tarde or bom dia?

And then there was a couple who arrived at three minutes before closing and gathered up a pile of clothes which they draped over their arms. I offered up a prayer that they didn’t want to try them on. I made a point of locking the door and apologised that I needed to close in five minutes.

I groaned inwardly. Checked my phone still no news on the lady who should be coming in to relieve me.

It was now 13.10, and I knew Mr P would be about to blow a gasket. He was precariously parked outside and wasn’t feeling that great.

Yes, I should have driven myself, but there is limited parking during the holiday season…

I finally evicted the couple at 13.20. Dumped the money in the safe, exited the shop exited and slammed the door behind us just as more customers tried to enter.

**

Two hours later, during my afternoon siesta, I woke with a start.

Holy Moly, I never checked the changing room…

Had I inadvertently locked someone in the shop?