Store staff on the frontline against ‘me-first’ shoppers
WHEN MY son took a temporary Christmas job stocking shelves at Asda, we never imagined that less than four months later he would be on the coronavirus frontline.
His temporary contract came to an end, but Jack managed to secure a permanent part-time job in our village branch to fit around college.
It’s perfect for him; he can walk there, and the pay, at more than £9 an hour, is excellent. He’s now seriously earning every single penny. In the last week alone, he’s put in 30 hours, constantly emptying pallets and filling shelves to keep the supply of food and essential items flowing.
He’s only 17. Please spare a thought for Jack and his millions of co-workers in every supermarket and food outlet. They are – quite literally – doing their best.
It is not their fault that there are no loo rolls – it’s the fault of selfish people stockpiling. If they politely remind you that the purchasing of certain goods is limited – Sainsbury’s is one of the latest retailers to introduce curbs, including a maximum of three of any grocery product and a maximum of two on the most popular items such as toilet roll, soap and UHT milk – please accept that these are the rules for a reason.
So far, Jack seems entirely nonplussed by the unforeseen demands of his job. The team he works with are mostly under 30 and evidently possessed of the selfconfidence only the young can muster in these troubling times.
When Jack comes home from work, usually just before 10pm, he sits down and wolfs his dinner and fends off my questions. I keep reminding him to sanitise his hands. I wash his uniform as soon as he takes it off. He tells me I’m being over-protective, but I disagree.
I’m curious about how much stock is still being delivered. He assures me that the trucks are turning up as normal.
Above all, I’m worried that if a difficult situation breaks out, he might be in danger. He points out that he’s six foot three and used to chasing shoplifters – broad daylight thieving was happening well before coronavirus put people on their uppers.
That’s why Alex Norris, the Labour MP for Nottingham North, has been fighting for almost two years to make certain offences against retail workers, including malicious wounding, grievous or actual bodily harm and common assault, a serious criminal matter. His Bill to protect shopworkers was tabled on Monday.
In his speech, Mr Norris said: “I bring in this Bill at a time of significant national importance. It is a change from the main subject for this week and coming weeks, but pertinent in the light of the significance that retail workers have in our lives and will continue to have in that period.”
This need to adapt and enforce legislation, to protect not just shopworkers, but also delivery drivers, NHS staff and emergency personnel from bearing the brunt of public frustration, is one strong justification for keeping Parliament open and the democratic process ongoing.
I know that the Prime Minister, Cabinet and their advisors are all doing their very best too but, with respect, they don’t know what it is like to actually go out there and queue.
At the weekend, my husband and I went to see both sets of elderly parents and made it explicitly clear that they must not go out shopping for the foreseeable future. Not just because all of them are 70-plus with existing health conditions; we don’t want them jostled to the ground over a tin of beans.
We will bring them what they need, and if we fall ill, we have back-up plans in place with other family members and neighbours. We’re a fortunate family, others less so, which is why I welcome special shopping hours for older people. Some have no choice but to go it alone, and are risking their health enough, given that over-70s are advised to avoid social contact.
All this stockpiling and hoarding of food is a way for ordinary people to retain some level of control over the overwhelming news every day. However, with Jack reassuring me of stock levels, until this week I didn’t buy anything extra at all. Now I’ve got 240 tea bags.
The idea of cupboards bulging at the seams is alien to me. I normally shop daily. Also, I shop locally. Local and corner shops have proved their worth recently, often still able to procure items such as kitchen rolls.
I’ve been trying to follow my own advice: keep calm and carry on. This was until I saw the look of triumph in a woman’s eyes as she grabbed the last bag of red potatoes from a greengrocer’s shop. She obviously thought I had them in my sights too (I didn’t).
This was Wombwell high street, not Mad Max. If this ‘me-first’ attitude continues, it will lead only one way; enforced rationing. Then I will really begin to worry about Jack and his millions of colleagues.