Co-op
Having worked for the Co-op for a good many years, I have encountered all sorts of diseased, filth ridden scutters who haven't seen a bar of soap for weeks, wafting around the aisles, turning the broccoli black and curdling the milk.

My favourite gut churning moment happened when I was working in a particularly rough shop as a management trainee.

The shop was in the middle of a precinct that was home to a million tramps, all swigging their diamond white and smoking bits of old dog ends, but there was one extra special filth merchant that just wore a dinner jacket and a pair of trousers held up with string, and would express his hatred of all the staff quite vocally.

Now it was a hot July day when this grimy fucker decided to have a go at pinching some tramp juice from the shop. We were in the back keeping a beady eye on him on the cameras, up one aisle, down the other, taking his time, when suddenly he stopped.

Zooming in on the dirty scruffer showed a look of intense concentration on his face and he was shuffling from one leg to the other. Then, without warning a torrent of shit and piss hurtled out of his trouser leg, and covered the floor and most of the bread shelves.

Well fuck.

The security guard nearly gipped up his dinner, and the manager turned green.

The tramp on the other hand, shook what was left out of his Farahs, dipped a finger up his ring to wipe off the sweetcorn and scuttled out of the shop, taking a packet of coco pops as an afterthought.

30 litres of bleach, 6 mopheads and 11 packets of jay cloths later it was gone, sluiced up by a tearful cleaning girl.

We never did get the coco pops back.
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 22:59, Reply)