Fable
By Ray Schaufeld
- 1768 reads
There was no rest for the wicked or even for the well-behaved at the Happy Zoo toyshop. It was the first morning of the January Sales.
‘Best get tore into this lot’ said Hattie, viewing the huge rainbow-coloured stack of cuddlies and squeakers waiting to be lifted out of their boxes, tagged with the pricing guns and placed on the shelves.
The girls wanted to work at the speed of light as this was only the start. The packaging then had to be disposed of according to instructions. All of the bubble wrap needed to be placed in the big green sacks. The cardboard boxes had to have the masking tape slashed with work scissors so they could then be folded flat, put on heavy, unwieldy, hard to push trolleys and wheeled to the grey industrial bins outside at the back of the store, close to the Staff entrance. Then Hattie and Tracie had to take the draughty creaky lift down to the basement, load up their trolleys with more big boxes of toys, go back up to the ground floor, manoeuvring around awkward corners and start the process all over again. And again. There was plenty more where that lot came from.
Despite snatching frequent mobile breaks to chat to her boyfriend, Hattie's pace was relentless.
She was desperate to complete this mind-numbing repetitive task so that she could move on to serving the customers. At least when she was behind the counter she could chat to the young fathers who came in to buy gifts for their children and she could have a laugh and indulge in some flirtatious banter..
She now turned her baleful attention to her work partner.
‘What’s the matter with you Tracie?' she girned 'Can’t you go faster than that? Best get a move on.’
‘Who does she think she is?’ thought Tracie. Tracie was a little younger than Hattie. However her solid demeanour and her old fashioned way of speaking indicated to those older and wiser in the ways of the world than her colleague that Tracie had experienced a hard life where nothing could be taken for granted. Consequently her head was screwed firmly down upon her young shoulders. She refused to be pushed by pushy Hattie.
The pair of them carried on working. It was now four o’clock. Hattie’s pace had slowed but she was still a little ahead of Tracie. However her lead was cancelled out by yet another mobile break, again to her boyfriend.
‘Hi Dogga, yeh awright, yeh I’m good. Yeh I’m stuck with that stupid Tracie, too slow to catch a….Owww!’
Hattie, who had been chatting while walking down the aisle and carrying a huge pile of fluffy duckies well above her eye level had missed her footing. She tripped over her killer heels, turned her ankle and landed firmly on her butt, ripping her tights in the process.
‘Oww call 999, Don’t just stand there staring at me Tracie, do something!’
‘Your own daft - oh awright.’ Tracie padded over on her flatties and checked Hattie’s breathing and pulse.
‘You’re alive.’
‘Well Duh! Course I’m alive. Phone 999 you idiot’
‘Wait Hattie. Try flexing your ankle slowly back and forward like so. Yes, good. Now stand up slowly, steady yourself against the wall and see if you can walk.’
‘No way. Here, gimme my phone back, I’ll call 999 myself.’
‘Yes Hattie, I think you’re well enough to make your own phone calls. I’ll carry on with the stacking.’
And’ (Tracie could not resist a parting shot or even several, and who could blame her) ‘Next time, Hattie, follow your safety training. Never carry a load above eye-level, you need to be able see where you and other people are going at all times, don’t use your phone while you are working and don’t work in those silly shoes. You should wear appropriate footwear.’
For once Tracie had got ahead of herself. The two young women had started work on the same day, in the run up to Christmas. Now Tracie was addressing Hattie as if she was her line manager!
A few weeks later when they had their performance review, steady, methodical, conscientious Tracie was promoted to line manager. She now headed a team of three, including Hattie.
(Based on Aesop’s Fable the Hare and the Tortoise).
Moral 'Slow and steady wins the race.'
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Comments
ah,the fables of our
ah,the fables of our realities
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'More haste, less speed', and
'More haste, less speed', and 'Pride before a fall' .
I thought 'her solid demeanour and her old fashioned way of speaking indicated to those older and wiser in the ways of the world than her colleague that Tracie had experienced a hard life where nothing could be taken for granted and consequently her head was screwed firmly down upon her young shoulders. She refused to be pushed by pushy Hattie.' was an interesting observation, Elsie.
Rhiannon
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aye, slow and steady. emm?
aye, slow and steady. emm? sometimes wins the race, but usually gets relegated.
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Hi Elsie,
Hi Elsie,
I'm definitely a Tracie and was always getting told off for being too slow, especially when I worked in a factory with loads of men.
I enjoyed your story and the morale behind it.
Jenny.
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