Supermaret Chec-Out

Ch. 2: Getting off on the right foot.

The small-statured woman with short dark hair I thought of as the Pixie Lady was now dominating my thoughts.

Such was the power the Pixie Lady now held over me that I decided to give up my assistant librarian's job at the town's Bookworms store of filling the bookshelves with Best-Sellers for filling the food shelves with best-sellers as a supermarket Colleague at the Pixie Lady's workplace.

The game-changer that tipped me over the edge had happened a month ago. It was the revamping at my local Dali discount store. One of the changes was the staff uniform, which had changed from all black to match the new dark blue and white labelling of the store's products.

Watching the Pixie Lady shoeplaying was the highlight of my week. But my undiminishing obsession with the enthralling dainty, previously black but now white cotton ankle-socked soles of the Pixie Lady's shoe-playing feet had become such that I now craved a daily - not merely a weekly - Saturday sneaky look-see fix at my local Dali store.

The best way to achieve this was to get a job there. And now a poster in the window was advertising job vacancies. I had only ever seen females working at the Dali discount store. Did they have a female-only policy? I didn't know. But they could employ who they wanted, couldn't they? The best person for the job. I only knew that I had to give it a shot and apply. Maybe they wanted a man about the place - if he was the right man.

As a big reader, I enjoyed my job at Bookworms. And I had prospects. I could become a shop manager. But now I had a new, overriding priority. I had held out for a month, thinking this all-consuming mania would pass and I would come to my senses eventually. But my irrational craze had not passed - and I could hold out no longer. Thoughts of the Pixie Lady, her now white cotton ankle socks, more visually pleasing by better defining the exquisite shapeliness of her often-displayed soles, overroad my reason and quashed my indecision.

I was enthralled by the Pixie Lady. She was my dream woman. Was I besotted? Infatuated? Obsessed? Fixated? Charmed? I didn't know.

I wanted to submit myself to the Pixie Lady. To be hers to do with as she pleased. That was the nub of it. If she worked me like a rented mule, I would adore her all the more for it. I would do anything for her. Let her wish be known, and it would be fulfilled. She would only have to ask me.

So, to the bemusement of my boss, I handed in my notice on the Monday after my job interview on Saturday - not with the store manager but with the Pixie Lady herself! I had not expected that! And what an interview! I was utterly unnerved by her presence. She had confirmed herself as my dream woman. The woman I wanted to serve and to submit myself to. Her name was Miss Lewis. The Pixie Lady Miss Lewis seemed not to recognise me. But then - why would she? Why would she notice or remember an unremarkable early-twenties male shopper in the aisles or passing through her till with his mundane pleasantries? I wanted to leap up, punch the air and cry my jubilance out loud when the Pixie Lady said: "David - I want you as a Colleague at Dali. How soon can you start?"

I left my old job in the town centre shopping arcade on Friday and started my new job in the Retail Park the following Monday.

Somehow, I knew I would not regret my drastic career change.

***

No matter what, I wanted to get off on the right foot.

And so, when the supermarket supervisor of my helpless fixation eyeballed me in the Staff Room during her pre-work brief and asked for volunteers to work Monday - Saturday, 7:30 am to 8:30 pm, to cover the present staff shortage of two Colleagues, I was the first to raise my hand.

"You can count on me, Miss Lewis," I responded promptly. "And, for as long as you want. Miss Lewis - all you have to do is ask."

Miss Lewis said, "All right then, David. I'll ask. Will you work those longer hours permanently? Six days a week? I will always be able to use you."

These were long working hours. And for six days a week. But the Pixie Lady herself was asking me. This was the woman dominating my thoughts every wakeful minute. Thoughts - of her shapely, shoe-playing white-socked soles. And, working longer hours and one of my two days off would mean more chances to watch her shoe-playing. So it was a no-brainer.

And anyway, at least I could still make the most of my Sundays.

Trying to sound nonchalant but knowing I was speaking the literal truth, I said, "Miss Lewis - yes. And happily. As I said, all you have to do is ask."

Miss Lewis said, "All right then, David. I'll ask again. What about Sundays? I work alternate Sundays with my Trainee Manager, Angela. Will you also make yourself available to me or to my Trainee Manager every Sunday? To work the store's reduced opening hours of ten until four? Start at nine-thirty and finish at four-thirty? Same thing as weekdays. Start early to help prepare the store for opening and finish late to help tidy up? Overtime is unpaid, with time off in lieu instead. Or, David - you can offer to work all your overtime voluntarily. Offering your time for free would give me some kudos at Head Office and cement your position under me. David - what do you say?"

"Miss Lewis, I would like to offer to work every Sunday and work overtime voluntarily."

"Excellent! My staff take their two days off on a rotation basis to enjoy some time off at weekends. So, it would be nice to know that I will always have you for a no-cost fill-in cover. And you will be aptly rewarded for your cooperation and loyalty to me and my Trainee Manager, Angela. David - do you confirm then that Angela and I can rely on your availability on a seven-day, early start and late finish basis?"

This was another big commitment, but it was another no-brainer. The Pixie Lady was giving me even more of what I wanted. What better way to spend my time? In the seven-day service of the Pixie Lady or for her Trainee Manager deputy, Angela, when Miss Lewis took her time off.

I said, "Yes, Miss Lewis. You can rely on me. Anything you want."

Miss Lewis said, "Well, you could work another half hour of voluntary overtime every day by taking thirty minutes for your lunch break instead of an hour. That would help me out as well. I will always have something for you to do. If not, Angela certainly will. David - what do you say?"

I said, "Miss Lewis, if it will help you out... then, of course."

"Thank you, David. I was sure I could count on you. And David, on behalf of myself and my staff: Welcome to Dali. I am sure we will all get along!" said the slightly built, dark-haired thirtyish woman I thought of as the Pixie Lady. And, at hearing her speak my name, a flood of pure pleasure gushed right through me. Her voice was music to my ears. Even when asking me to commit to work such long hours, seven days a week, much of it unpaid and none of it redeemable as time off in lieu.

And there was another thing. The store-logoed Team Leader ID tag pinned to her dark blue uniform jacket identified her as Patricia Lewis. PL - the same initials as Pixie Lady. To me, this seemed more than mere coincidence. It was a omen. A vindication. It fitted perfectly with my meant-to-be reasoning. My place was not in the bookshop, where I could read books to my heart's content. My place was on the shop floor, where I could serve the Pixie Lady to my heart's content. The shop floor of Dali.

Miss Lewis stood, all 5' 5" of her, facing the assembled ten shopfloor Colleagues working under her - all female except for me. In their late teens to their early thirties, and all of them attractive in their own ways, I suppose I could fairly describe my nine female shopfloor Colleagues as 'Girl next door' type young women. They wore the new Dali supermarket uniform: a dark blue nylon jacket, a knee-length skirt of the same colour and material, white cotton ankle socks, and their uniform dark blue leather flats. I wore the same dark blue uniform jacket, matching trousers and black work boots. The ID tag pinned to my uniform jacket read 'David'.

Miss Lewis then slipped her right white-cotton ankle-socked foot from her dark blue leather work flat and flexed and scrunched her toes. Looking straight at me, Miss Lewis said, "David, thank you for offering to work so much voluntary overtime. I know you want to... get off on the right foot."

My nine female Colleagues all tittered in their amusement. I looked at their smiling faces. They all knew! Miss Lewis said, "David: We all know. We have all watched your very blatant, voyeuristic antics on the store's cameras. Not very subtle, were you, David? Checking out my feet?"

My face burned hot enough for Miss Lewis and my nine female Colleagues to come and warm their hands on it.

My nine female Colleagues now also slipped their uniform right, white-socked foot from their dark blue leather work flat, flexed and scrunched their toes, looked at my bright-red face, and laughed.

One of them, whose ID tag read: 'Angela - Trainee Manager', hooted, "That's a good one, Miss Lewis! Get off on the right foot!"

Miss Lewis said, "David - honestly! Your job interview! Really - I don't know how I kept my face straight! Your eyes were on stalks when I dangled my flat for you!"

My face burned even more fiercely at hearing my nine female Colleagues laughing, along with Miss Lewis.

Miss Lewis said, "All right. Let's all calm down."

For me, that was easier said than done.

Miss Lewis said, "David, as a Dali discount store supervisor, my role is to chip in and work hands-on to set an example to the Colleagues under me. But now, I have got you. That means no more heavy lifting or trolleying pallets around for me - and less drudge work. And my authority extends to all of your female Colleagues on the shop floor. At present, you have nine. Soon, you will have eleven. Your female Colleagues can summon you and order you to do any heavy lifting and trolleying for them. You will also oblige them, as and when required, with whatever other drudge work requests: box-opening, rotation of foodstuffs, cleaning up the spillages from leaky milk bottles, or the broken eggs dropped by clumsy customers - that sort of thing. All of that is for you to do. You are our man about the place. You are our all-purpose go-to guy. You are at the beck and call of all. Are you getting the picture? And David: your female Colleagues can expect your immediate respectful obedience. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss Lewis. Understood. I get the picture. Your authority extends to my female Colleagues. I am their man about the place. I am their all-purpose go-to guy. I am at the beck and call of all. To do the drudge work."

"Good!" said Miss Lewis. "David, as our man about the place, we will keep you busy. Dali is a good-value discount store based on the low-price/high-turnover model. That entails the frequent replenishment of food shelves and other containers, like the veg-dumpers and freezers. After the busy weekend, Mondays are always especially hectic with restocking. First job: trolley some pallets of goods in from the warehouse. Angela, my Trainee Manager, will point them out and tell you where to take them. Return the empty pallets to the warehouse. Then, if Angela has no other orders for you, report to me for further instructions."

"Yes, Miss Lewis."

I was surprised and confounded. With my secret exposed, I would have expected to be confronted with it, given a suitable dressing-down, and then strongarm-escorted from the premises by store security with a ban from shopping at Dali. Instead, I was a source of amusement.

I said, "So, do you still want me then, Miss Lewis? I don't understand. I mean, um, given...?"

Miss Lewis turned her back to me, bent her right leg at the knee and slid her right foot from her dark blue leather work flat, displaying the mesmerising sight of her white cotton ankle-socked sole. My nine female Colleagues turned their backs and did likewise. I could not hide my surprise - or excitement. What a thrilling display! I stared at their white-socked soles in longing. I wanted to go to my knees to kiss each of my nine female Colleagues' right white-socked soles, in turn, to pay homage.

Miss Lewis said, "Given what - David? Given your raging foot fetish? David, of course, I want you. And so do my girls. We all want to make the most of your... weakness. And we will. We normally employ only female Colleagues. But I managed to persuade the store manager, Miss Conway, to make an exception for you. And why? Because young men like you don't come along every day. A man we can so easily bend to our will. You are our workman - and our servant. But David, if you serve us well, you will be suitably rewarded. Every evening at Till Number Six, from seven o'clock to eight o'clock closing time or until the last customer has passed through the till. It will be me for the first thirty minutes - or Angela in my absence - followed by one of your female Colleagues. That will be our routine. Should you wish to, you can further demonstrate the true depths of your respect - not only to me but to your female Colleagues - with a personal service like no other. Seven days a week, I will permit you to take both pairs of dirty white socks home to wash for us and return the next workday. Now, David - that's it. Get to work! Go with Angela."

I couldn't believe my ears. Miss Lewis and my female Colleagues wanted a man about the place. If he was the right man - the sort of man who didn't come along every day. A man they could easily bend to their will.

I said, "Yes, Miss Lewis!"

Accompanied by Angela, I hastened from the Staff Room, eager to do the biddings of Miss Patricia Lewis - the Pixie Lady. And now also, by the extension of the Pixie Lady's authority, the bossy biddings of my nine - and, soon, to be eleven - female Colleagues. At the beck and call of all.

And now, I was left wondering. My daily reward?

What would happen at Till Number Six from seven to eight p.m. - or until the last customer passed through the till?

***

Angela led the way to the warehouse. She showed me the large wooden containers and the palleted goods she wanted me to trolley into the store and indicated the ones to take in first. Angela pointed out the wooden crates of fresh vegetables, the bumper packs of toilet rolls, cardboard boxes of canned goods, multi-packs of beer and other alcoholic drinks - some of the usual best-sellers.

Angela was in her early twenties - about my age. All of them were attractive in their individual ways, but the Trainee Manager Angela was one of the better-looking of my Dali female Colleagues. It would be cliched to say there was 'something about her'. But then, there was 'something' about all nine of them. And the more you looked, the more you saw. Angela was 5' 8" and slimly built. Her eyes were blue, and she had shoulder-length platinum-streaked blonde hair and a peaches-and-cream complexion. And the more I looked, the more I saw.

Angela slipped her right, white-socked foot from her dark blue leather work flat and rested it in her empty shoe, sole-up. What a sight! Angela saw my downward glance and heard me catch my breath. I recalled Angela's helpless hoot of hilarity at the Staff Room pre-work briefing at the Pixie Lady Miss Lewis's 'getting off on the right foot' remark.

Angela smirked at my reddening face. Angela said, "David, trolley all of these wooden dumpers of fresh potatoes, carrots, turnips, onions and cabbages first. Place the remaining few bags of veg from the other dumpers on top of the new ones so they are sold first - rotation is important. Gather up any spilt veg from the dumpers. Trolley the empty dumpers and any pieces of spilt veg back to the warehouse for repackaging or recycling. Then, trolley these six pallets of lagers, ales and ciders. Again, place the remaining cases or multi-packs of beer, or whatever, on top of the new stock, and then take the empty pallets back to the warehouse and pile them up tidily six high for the forklift truck driver. Then, these five pallets of toilet rolls - no need to rotate those. Finally, trolley these pallets of canned potatoes, carrots, peas, tomatoes and baked beans. Bring the baked beans first - they are almost sold out. Take them to the canned veg aisle, where you will find me working with Sandra. I will tell you the order to truck the other pallets of canned veg to us. David - the baked beans first. Got it? Follow my instructions exactly."

Angela was a good candidate for Trainee Manager. She was organised, her detailed instructions were easy to follow, and she was rather bossy by nature. She was also a good communicator. Angela communicated to me the unambiguous nature of our relationship: Do as I say; hear and obey!

I continued to stare down at Angela's right, white-socked upturned sole. I was riveted by the thrilling sight. I wanted to go to my knees and kiss it.

"Yes, Angela. Got it. I will find you in the canned veg aisle with Sandra. You want the baked beans first. I will follow your instructions exactly."

I finally looked at Angela. Her expression said: Huh. I will have no problems with you.

Angela looked at her watch and said, "David - I will give you an hour. Then, come to the canned veg aisle with the pallet of baked beans. You can open the boxes and flatten the cardboard for Sandra and me. And that's another thing. You will operate the bailer. The bailer is our cardboard compacting machine. It is a pesky job. But now it is your pesky job. We get through tons of cardboard. Keep on top of it. The bailer is at the back of the warehouse. Cable-tie the bails tightly and stack them tidily for weekly collection. David - an hour. Plenty of time. I hope I won't have to come looking for you?"

I looked downward again at Angela's white-socked right sole, still upturned and resting in her dark blue leather flat. The urge to go to my knees and kiss it was all but irresistible. "No, Angela," I said. "You won't."

Angela said, "Good. Because I don't want to have to do any box-opening. Neither does Sandra. It's a pain. Opening the cardboard boxes is hard on our hands and fingers because sometimes the flaps are glued closed too firmly. We end up with broken fingernails. Very unsightly for young ladies like us. But now, that's your job. David! Crack on then! Get to work!"

"Yes, Angela!" I said.

Implicit in Angela's tyrannical tone was her unspoken but unmistakable edict: Do as I say; hear and obey!

I hesitated for two seconds - such was the monumental effort of will to tear my eyes from the enthralling sight of Angela's white-socked upturned right sole.

But that was enough.

The look I saw on Angela's face told me she knew it.

***

An hour to do all of that? The Trainee Manager, Angela, was a tough taskmistress!

Working quickly, I was about halfway through doing Angela's bidding and making good time when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see one of my female Colleagues. The name tag, pinned to her dark blue uniform jacket, identified her as Dolores.

Dolores was one of my younger female Colleagues, at about nineteen. Dolores was 5' 7". She was a few pounds heavier than Angela, with brown eyes, shoulder-length black hair and an olive complexion.

I said, "Yes, Dolores? I'm pretty busy. Angela has given me a lot of trolleying around to do. And not much time. What can I do for you?"

Dolores slipped her right white cotton ankle-socked foot from her dark blue leather work flat and pressed her toes down inside the back of the heel, causing the toe of her shoe to point vertically.

Dolores saw my reactive downward glance, heard my sharp intake of breath, and noted my expression with apparent satisfaction.

Dolores said, "David, I have a job for you. Go to the yoghurt fridge. There is a mess for you to clean up. A careless lady customer has dropped a kilo tub of yoghurt, which has split open. This sort of thing happens often. We get a lot of clumsy customers. Normally, I would do it myself. But now, I have got you. You are our clean-up guy. Do it now - right away. A quick clean for now, for safety's sake. You can clean the floor properly later."