Due to my crap ankle I am learning how to work in the cash office at my place of work. This is the closest I have ever been or would like to be to having a proper office job. The constant pressure of having cameras on me is a constant reminder as to why I wouldn't fare well on big brother. I feel the need to over exaggerate my every move to prove I am not stuffing £20 notes into my bra as I work and when alone feel very aware when I begin singing aloud, even though the cctv captures no sound. Burning in the back of my mind is a memory from another store I used to work at where the 6ft 3" security guard jumped onto the chair only for the chair to slide away on the wheels beneath it, leaving him sprawled across the floor looking at the camera with a look of vain hope that they were not recording at that moment. They were. And as such that moment is Tesco Barkingside folk lore. The sad reality that I will one day be laughed at for missing a moving chair is all to real right now.
Tonight I'd like the cast removing pizza dream as opposed to a highlight reel of my cctv fuck ups.
Night Night all xx
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