I was in a generic 'city' or 'express' supermarket in London.... I shouldn't have been there, but I was on tour with the band and they travel cheap.
Supermarkets are always cold and I hate that. I like the bright lights and the abundance of shiny food, but the pre-made sandwich displays in the first corridor irk me.
I'd just rounded the first corner when I noticed green slimy water on the floor near the vegetables. An employee of Indian descent was discussing the problem with a West Indian colleague when the owner arrived.
“What the hell is this?”
He was a white Englishman in his late thirties, a big man, slightly overweight.
“Could someone tell me why no one is cleaning this up?”
He was balding, but well kempt. He wore a casual suit that clearly emanated his superior status...
“Um, I was...we were just....”
The employees rushed to the floor in an attempt to placate the fury of their boss. The owner was not not about to let them get away with this shit. He could do it better himself. They were fucking useless and, though his skills were not in cleaning, even he could do a better job. He grabbed a mop from one of the workers and started hastily mopping the leak.
“Could someone tell me why I'm mopping the floor in my own bloody store?”
I looked at Ben and said “Yeah bro, that's mad.... What kind of chump would clean his own store...?
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