A nice bit of juggling required

'You cannot leave at 1.30, no. It's Christmas sale weekend! What are you thinking?'

That you're a hard-faced, spoilt, in a couple so no worries there, five figure salaried, non empathetic wee turd. That's what l was thinking.

'Oh, if l could just .. ' but the boss man had about turned, answering his always ringing little, black phone, lost in the hundreds of eager shoppers. Music screaming out from a colleagues iPod, or whatever the fuck they're called.

I could feel that mixture of anger and tears churning up again. John was due a break at 1-1.30pm. Maybe he'd go at 12.45. Then l could creep out unnoticed at 1.15 when he came back?

'That's fine with me, Dee. Just you go. It's only fifteen minutes, and they owe you some time back for last week, don't they?' There was a snake like queue of tired looking punters waiting patiently to be served by us. Me on the daft, wee till, John helping them with their endless enquiries. 'Toilet's on third floor', answering a whispered request. Funny how they do that. It's only a pee after all, lassie.

'That's three hundred and twenty pounds, please sir. Just put your debit card in there, that's right. Chilly day, eh?'

How the devil was l to get up to White Christmas matinee? I finished in the shop at 1.30pm, but started in theatre at 1.25pm.

Right. Plan B. My escape. Face the wrath of the shop tomorrow.

The theatre and shop managers knew l worked hard, but both said same thing. 'You have to decide which job you value most. You're here for the good of the business. Make up your mind. Now, back to work'.

In unison, both ringing in my ears.

Now.

I'd emailed twice to remind theatre that l'd be ten minutes late, but had no reply. I also rang earlier and left a pathetic message. They couldn't say l didn't let them know, could they?

As l rang through the piles of shirts, pants, socks, chinos, jeans, belts and refunds, l was hatching said plan.

If l leave at 1.20, jump in taxi that's waiting outside in readiness, drive like a lunatic from Princess Street up The Mound and bomb into Stage Door front door area, l should just about make it. Bit late, but there for busy matinee. I could eat in the taxi. Great invention, cereal bars. Hopefully l won't have a panic attack whenever there's one of them slow pedestrians crossing the road in a daze, and all the traffic lights are green.

'I think a large would probably be your size. If not you can return it to our store within two weeks for a full refund. With your receipt, of course', l smiled. Not a proper smile. One of those stretching of the mouth smiles.

As l continued to talk, pack, fold, exchange, laugh, sympathise, measure, point, express an opinion ('oh yes, red is DEFINITELY your colour') the clock was nearing the heart attack time of noon, so l had to make a desicion. Get a bollockin' or worse from here, or get more or less same up there in theatre world.

Tick tick tock tock ..

Help!!