TBE (aka The Boss Erratic) has gone bonkers.
Yes, I know, but even more bonkers than usual.
She seems to have lost her mind over a pint of milk. Well, an ex-pint of milk. Actually, a pint of milk that never was. Well it was, it just wasn’t when I found it.
|Picture: creades, Pixabay|
OK, let me explain properly: I threw away a pint of milk because it was off, despite it only having been bought the day before by Colleague Craft(y) for the Out Of Favour (OOF) shop cafe. Then I bought another pint to replace it.
I left the receipt and a little note to explain why a second pint of milk had been bought in as many days, and thought no more about it*.
*If you’re new to this blog you might reasonably assume that the purchase of two pints of milk in two days is extremely conservative for a café. Unnaturally so. And you’re right, it is. But then, you’re probably under the misapprehension that the OOF shop café is normal. It is not. Apart from anything else, it doesn’t have a working coffee machine.....
Anyway, that was the wrong thing to do, apparently.
When TBE came in the next day she went bananas. Properly wibble-wobble, madly raging, genuinely slightly alarming, bananas.
|Original picture: OpenClipart-Vectors, Pixabay|
- She rang Colleague Craft(y) – at home – and demanded to know if she’d checked the dates when she bought the milk.
- Then she rang me – at home – to see if I’d tried to return the milk to the newsagents (I hadn’t. Of course I hadn’t. Would you?).
- Then she rang the newsagents to see if they would have taken it back (Again; would you…..?).
- Then she rang me again - still on my day off – to inform me the newsagents would have taken it back and I should have tried. Why didn’t I try?
Why didn’t I try? Because, because…. what?! What are you even doing?! It’s one pint of milk, and you’ve now rung me not once, but twice on my day off….
OK then, here’s a because: because, for one thing, I’m meant to be in the sodding shop during the day, not standing in the newsagents arguing the toss over less than a quids worth of spoilt milk like some demented dairy inspector. You may have had a perspective-bypass, but mine is still resolutely intact, thank you very much.
- Anyway, after the extensive and deeply weird One-Woman-Phone-a-Thon phase, she left a page and a half of wild ranting in the OOF shop message book all about milk. Yep. A page and a half. About milk.
The amazing thing is, as we all know, TBE is perfectly happy to lose money by keeping the shop closed all day due to crap staff timetabling (ah yes, that blog post will turn up at some point on here); and she’s perfectly happy to lose money by storing stock so carelessly it gets buggered and can’t be sold (see Razor Rita!). She’s also perfectly happy to lose money and her reputation by treating small local suppliers appallingly, (basically, not recording their sales properly and not paying them their due), but apparently the loss of a 45p pint of milk is a step too far.
I don’t know, maybe I’m being too harsh. After all, she’s clearly worried about that lost 45p. Maybe I should give her a break. Maybe I should give her a bit of understanding. Maybe I should give her a pint of milk for Christmas.