As I sat in my room, in the dark, amongst a pile of unwashed crockery, writing a lengthy 750 word resignation letter that seemed destined to be binned by the Primark hierachy without so much as a second glance, I wondered who was really winning. None the less, today I finally gave in, and walked out. The previous weekend I had already disregarded work, in favour of a communal trip to Nando's which was altogether more enjoyable, and rather like The Office, The Primark Diaries needed to end whilst there were still stories to tell. What follows is an open letter to my supervisor. It contains some strong language.
Primark Stores Ltd
Norwich
Norfolk
NR5
Alex Allen
26 Friends Road
Norwich
Norfolk
NR5 8HN
Tel 07774613735
Email: Alex_Allen63@hotmail.com
Dear Master Robert,
I am writing to resign from my post as 'Primark Checkout Monkey'. During my brief period serving under your iron fist, I found you to be rodent like in appearance, musty in odour, and your complexion greasy to touch. For this I can only form one plausible explanation, that you are regularly locked away from the world in the folding table cupboard during non-opening hours, where you scuttle from corner to corner, gnawing frantically upon morsels of food that have been left by the day's customers. Aside from my feelings of general contempt and loathing for you, I must think also in terms of the preservation of my own personal hygiene. If the Bubonic Plague has taught us anything, it is that rats have little or no place at all in the public retail sector. We are from two very different worlds, one the civilised West, the other ridden with disease. Those worlds must maintain their distance for the greater good.
The following is a compilation of your rules and regulations that I found particularly ridiculous. No humming – It distracts customers. Distracts them from what? Are these people really so stupid as to require perfect silence in order to recall a four digit number to put in to the chip and pin machine? No talking. No white ties. No leaving the store on fifteen minutes breaks. As for your helpful sheet of name badge care – Do's and do not's, I have taken the privilege of conducting some tests on my name badge for your use in compiling future badge care constitutions. I believe the slang term is commonly recognised as, 'going Medieval on its ass.' Please find my research attached.
Your clocking in machine is a horrendous mess, and quite frankly, is the most ridiculous waste of money I have ever seen. Only you will know how you can justify spending that much money on such an utterly unnecessary monstrosity, and then inexplicably announcing that to sign on to the checkouts themselves the employee must sign the till receipt, which will in turn be checked by 'handwriting experts.' Experts? Who are they? How many employees at this establishment are experts at anything? As a store combined, your accolades surely stretch no further than a solitary third place medal in the egg and spoon race, and a level two commendation for good badge care. So please forgive me if I don't share your faith in your two 'experts', who I imagine by sheer coincidence, are also the two only literate employees in the entire company.
There is only so far a store can descend in to complete disrepair and still have realistic ambitions of being 'recovered'. It is a task I might liken to mopping up all the water that drenched the Titanic, with a single roll of kitchen roll. It isn't going to happen. Ever. Upon attending my induction day I was informed that Primark's main competition is Topshop. A valid point. Of course in Topshop customers aren't required to roll around on the floor like agitated livestock wrestling over a sequinned, embroidered carcass, as they in Primark. Nor do they live in fear of a slightly drunk, unshaven man of no fixed address disrobing in store and shouting 'it's contagious!' Nor in fact does their whole store hinge on the functionality of a series of white doorbells summoning some of the counties greatest and most infamous imbeciles, who frankly should all be locked away in padded cells. Nor most crucially, does their entire store feel like a horrible dream where you are forever an extra in an episode of popular children's programme, Grange Hill.
In short this is without question the worst, most ridiculous, most demeaning job I have had the displeasure of having. I wouldn't work another hour at Primark Ltd for £52.50 an hour. The sight of some of the monotonal, enthusiasm drained employees who have had their simple dreams of becoming astronauts or firemen cruelly dashed by a harsh and unforgiving discount clothing store such as your own is a very sad one indeed. As you have previously demonstrated, your incompetence in regard to basic arithmetic has often led to you come to me for aid in balancing the books. In my absence I have taken the liberty of attaching a sheet of the times tables from the one's through to the twelve's for your attention. Treat it well. So to summarise, you – Horrendous mess. Your store – Horrendous mess. Alex – Gone, forever, like the wind.
Warm Regards,
Alex
Primark Stores Ltd
Norwich
Norfolk
NR5
Alex Allen
26 Friends Road
Norwich
Norfolk
NR5 8HN
Tel 07774613735
Email: Alex_Allen63@hotmail.com
Dear Master Robert,
I am writing to resign from my post as 'Primark Checkout Monkey'. During my brief period serving under your iron fist, I found you to be rodent like in appearance, musty in odour, and your complexion greasy to touch. For this I can only form one plausible explanation, that you are regularly locked away from the world in the folding table cupboard during non-opening hours, where you scuttle from corner to corner, gnawing frantically upon morsels of food that have been left by the day's customers. Aside from my feelings of general contempt and loathing for you, I must think also in terms of the preservation of my own personal hygiene. If the Bubonic Plague has taught us anything, it is that rats have little or no place at all in the public retail sector. We are from two very different worlds, one the civilised West, the other ridden with disease. Those worlds must maintain their distance for the greater good.
The following is a compilation of your rules and regulations that I found particularly ridiculous. No humming – It distracts customers. Distracts them from what? Are these people really so stupid as to require perfect silence in order to recall a four digit number to put in to the chip and pin machine? No talking. No white ties. No leaving the store on fifteen minutes breaks. As for your helpful sheet of name badge care – Do's and do not's, I have taken the privilege of conducting some tests on my name badge for your use in compiling future badge care constitutions. I believe the slang term is commonly recognised as, 'going Medieval on its ass.' Please find my research attached.
Your clocking in machine is a horrendous mess, and quite frankly, is the most ridiculous waste of money I have ever seen. Only you will know how you can justify spending that much money on such an utterly unnecessary monstrosity, and then inexplicably announcing that to sign on to the checkouts themselves the employee must sign the till receipt, which will in turn be checked by 'handwriting experts.' Experts? Who are they? How many employees at this establishment are experts at anything? As a store combined, your accolades surely stretch no further than a solitary third place medal in the egg and spoon race, and a level two commendation for good badge care. So please forgive me if I don't share your faith in your two 'experts', who I imagine by sheer coincidence, are also the two only literate employees in the entire company.
There is only so far a store can descend in to complete disrepair and still have realistic ambitions of being 'recovered'. It is a task I might liken to mopping up all the water that drenched the Titanic, with a single roll of kitchen roll. It isn't going to happen. Ever. Upon attending my induction day I was informed that Primark's main competition is Topshop. A valid point. Of course in Topshop customers aren't required to roll around on the floor like agitated livestock wrestling over a sequinned, embroidered carcass, as they in Primark. Nor do they live in fear of a slightly drunk, unshaven man of no fixed address disrobing in store and shouting 'it's contagious!' Nor in fact does their whole store hinge on the functionality of a series of white doorbells summoning some of the counties greatest and most infamous imbeciles, who frankly should all be locked away in padded cells. Nor most crucially, does their entire store feel like a horrible dream where you are forever an extra in an episode of popular children's programme, Grange Hill.
In short this is without question the worst, most ridiculous, most demeaning job I have had the displeasure of having. I wouldn't work another hour at Primark Ltd for £52.50 an hour. The sight of some of the monotonal, enthusiasm drained employees who have had their simple dreams of becoming astronauts or firemen cruelly dashed by a harsh and unforgiving discount clothing store such as your own is a very sad one indeed. As you have previously demonstrated, your incompetence in regard to basic arithmetic has often led to you come to me for aid in balancing the books. In my absence I have taken the liberty of attaching a sheet of the times tables from the one's through to the twelve's for your attention. Treat it well. So to summarise, you – Horrendous mess. Your store – Horrendous mess. Alex – Gone, forever, like the wind.
Warm Regards,
Alex
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