Tom could not help himself. He kept looking at his watch, checking the time. It was stupid but he was looking forward to seeing how he and Greg would work together, a pair of new boys in a strange town.

There had been a steady trickle of customers all day, some just to look and chat, there was certainly no shortage of local gossip, of which he was sure that he would now be a part of over many dining tables that night.

It had just gone six o’clock, the bell jangled and a smart well-dressed boy walked in. He bore little comparison to the scruffier version that had been there earlier.

“Sorry it is so early, but I had nothing to do and I thought I may be able to help you with something,” Greg said, sheepishly, almost as if he was afraid of being rejected.

Tom was pleased, very pleased. He did not understand why the mere presence of young Greg had this effect on him. He tried to be formal and not let his pleasure show. This was also a strange reaction, in fact, this boy was causing him many strange reactions.

“You are very early but no problem, yes there is quite a bit to do, the shop has been busier than I expected for the first day and I have not dared leave it for more than a few minutes.”

“You said to bring these to change into,” he said, holding a folded set of shorts and T shirt in his hands. “Where can I change,” and he added with that cheeky grin returning, “right here?”

“And give all the old ladies a heart attack? Come, I will show you.”

With that Tom led Greg out through the rear door of the shop, the one with the TOILET sign above it. It opened onto a narrow corridor, a dry store on the left, and the cool room on the right behind overlapping heavy plastic doors. At the rear of the building, they swung right, past the customer toilet towards a vanity mirror and hand washing basin. An opening on the left was like the head of a ‘T’, shower to the left, and a small bench seat with wooden clothes hanging pegs above it to the right. 

As they entered the area Tom said, over his shoulder, “We must be the only small shop to provide toilet facilities for customers” then he added, “And it has been well utilized today already.”

“The shower has hot and cold water; on the ledge are shampoo, soap, and things, just help yourself if you ever need a shower after working here?”

“Leave your jeans and shirt hanging there on the pegs, no one will steal them, no one can get in here as the outside gate is locked.”

A few minutes later Greg came back into the front of the shop, looking completely lost. The change to a well fitting T-shirt and shorts changed his appearance from a smart young man to more of a standard teen, even though Tom guessed he was a bit older than that.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Much fresh fruit arrived this afternoon, should have been here last week but that is how it goes, it has to be prepared for sale.”

Tom showed him how the fruit and vegetable weighing and pricing machine worked, and they carried a carton of Kiwi Fruit in from the cool room, a stack of small rectangular cardboard trays, and some plastic glad wrap.

On the way, Tom opened the door to show Greg the dry storeroom. He stood at the entrance, quite shocked. “I can not believe it,” he said. As all the shelves had previously been carefully packed by him on Friday, he immediately noticed a couple of empty spaces at the front of a few items.

“Someone has helped themselves to a few free samples!” he said, disgusted.

It had to have been one of the half a dozen ladies who had been allowed to use the toilet, as none of the few men who had been in the shop had asked to do so.

“My fault as I had not bothered to lock the door. I will always do so in the future.”

Tom explained, “Whenever you add anything here you always place the new items at the back so that we use the oldest stock first and reduce any possible wastage due to expiry dates. That is even more important in the cold storage as we do not want anyone getting sick from what they buy here.” 

Greg just nodded and added, “You mean that someone has stolen stuff from the store?”

“I am afraid so; that is the price of dealing with the public. Sometimes it can be the most respectable looking ones who cause the biggest problems.”

“Now take three kiwi fruit out of the box at a time, wipe them with this moist cloth, weigh them on the machine, selecting number 36 for Kiwi Fruit, and the adhesive price tag will automatically appear. Lay them on the cardboard tray and cover tightly with glad wrap and stick the price label on the front of the plastic wrap.”

“But first bring me the delivery docket so we can enter the cost price into the computer system.”

Greg handed Tom the docket that was stuck to the top of the carton. Tom entered the code for Kiwi Fruit and entered the cost price opposite that bar code, pausing so that Greg could watch as he explained what he was doing.

“I put the new cost price for the item and the system automatically calculates a per kilo with a 25% mark-up; that next column says ‘special price’ and if I enter anything here, then that price will override the calculated retail price. Sometimes I round the price up or down and sometimes I create a very special price for one day, particularly if that item is not selling well and I want to move it quickly rather than throwing them out.”

“These Kiwi Fruit come to $1.77 per kilo, we have many and I am not sure how they will sell in Stanmore so I will enter $1.49 as a special price.”

Greg did as he was told, took three kiwi fruit from the carton, wiped them carefully so as not to bruise them, weighed them as the machine spat out a sticky tag, placed them in a row in the tray, covering them with the plastic wrap and affixed the sticky label that said ‘Kiwi Fruit’ and the ‘price’, looked at Tom and smiled, seemingly proud that he had been able to follow Tom’s simple instructions perfectly. In return, he got Tom’s nod of approval.

Tom showed Greg the space he had reserved for the Kiwi Fruit in the chilled fruit display unit, and they placed the first of the trays at the front, with room for another 9 trays behind it. Just then Greg jumped and Tom laughed, as the automatic cool water spray unit squirted a fresh wave, as it did every 10 minutes to keep the fruit as fresh as possible and maximize their shelf life.

“What do I do when this section is full?”

“Keep going till you have done them all and just place the rest back in that carton and put the carton back in the cool room.”

Greg worked steadily, a few meters from where Tom sat behind the counter, using the 2^nd counter stool, every now and again looking across and smiling, obviously very content to be doing something useful.

They mostly worked in silence, Tom glancing at Greg to check that all was ok, the silence strangely companionable. Tom smiled to himself, thinking that no woman ever born could just sit there, content and work silently as Greg was doing. More than likely there would be a constant stream of inane chatter. 

Customers kept coming in, not many, but a steady stream every five minutes or so. Greg finished doing the Kiwi Fruit, then the Oranges, putting them in plastic bags of four, the same with the Jonathon Apples. Dragon Fruit, white and red, were wrapped and priced individually. Plums he did on trays same as the Kiwi Fruit.

Every time Tom served a customer, Greg watched carefully, step by step, until Tom said, “Think you can be the cashier for the next customer?”

Greg was surprised by Tom’s request but pleased as he was eager to show off to Tom, wanting to impress his new friend.

“I’ll try, but you watch me to see if I do it all OK? But first, tell me why you place the customer’s money on the counter before handing them the change and only then putting it in the cash drawer?”

“You cannot guess?”

“Not really.”

“Well suppose the customer gives me a $50 note, I give him his change and then he says ‘but I gave you $100’? You can say, ‘No, you did not. This is your $50 right here’. A simple system, as an argument over the money tendered and you lose, money and probably a possible customer as well.”

The wait for the next customer seemed like an eternity to Greg but eventually, a young professional-looking guy came in, wandered around both rooms of the shop, and brought his basket to Greg at the cashier’s counter. Greg carefully passed each item past the bar code reader, waiting for the beep each time to show that it had been recorded, pressed the sub-total button when finished, but the customer tended no cash; instead, he tapped his credit card on the small terminal at the front of the counter and like magic, the cash register recorded it and spat out a docket detailing all the purchases.

After the customer left, Tom said, “Now if he had paid cash, you would have entered the amount he gave you and the machine would have displayed the correct change to give him back. Very well done, you were certainly watching me more than I had realized.”     

With this little pat on the back, Greg relaxed, feeling that he had passed another test, comfortable both in the shop and working with Tom. He once again thought how different Tom was from his father. Tom explained everything slowly and carefully, not bridling at any questions, and even said well done, afterward. His father just barked instructions and screamed when anything was not done to his satisfaction. 

Eight o’clock came quickly and it was time to lock up the shop, wind the outside awnings back, and re-stock the shelves with what had been sold. Whilst Greg mopped the floor and wiped down the shelves Tom closed off the day’s transactions printing a series of reports that showed what had been sold, the amount that should be in the till and on credit cards, even the day’s profit being the difference between the cost price of goods sold today and what they sold for. If any items had to be binned, he would have added them as wastage, but for the first day that was not a problem, he would work out later how to record the stolen items so the stock numbers remained correct.

“Not bad for a first day, 16 cents short of $2,000, with $388.22 gross profit. I think that might pay your wages and buy us some dinner. Are you hungry Greg? I feel like a Chinese at Jimmy Choo’s, and maybe a glass of wine or two. What do you say? I think we have earned it.”

Greg was too embarrassed to say ‘yes’ and too eager not to say ‘no’, so he just grinned and said, “I could eat a horse!”

“Cats and dogs maybe, but I do not think Jimmy serves horse meat,” Tom said with a laugh. “Go and have a quick shower outback and change into your glad rags whilst I go upstairs and do the same.” He added, pushing Greg ahead of him along the corridor, giving him a friendly pat on the bum to help him on his way. 

Upstairs, Tom stripped off and luxuriated in a hot shower, only then realizing just how tense he had been about the first day in the shop. Now that was past and from his point of view, quite successfully so.

And then there was young Greg, he does look a natural. He works well, looks well, he even thinks! And he is fun to work with, just to be with. Tom dares not think any further on the subject but after the shower, he shaves and dabs the aftershave using the expensive Kenzo rather than his normal daytime Salvatore Ferragarmo.  He glances at the full-length mirror, pleased that side-on there is still no paunch, and just the very slightest touch of grey in front of his ears.

Not so bad for 43 he thinks? Then wonders what the hell is happening? Anyone would think he was going out on a date, a first date, the way he is fussing about. Then, regardless, for good measure, he sprinkles a bit of his pleasant-smelling Talc from Crabtree & Evelyn.

He dresses, pretending to just throw on anything but still carefully selecting a pale blue cotton short-sleeved shirt to wear outside his white slacks.  He wants to look smart but still cannot admit to himself as to the reason why.

He locks his apartment door and almost runs down the stairs to where the grinning Greg is leaning against the wall, smartly dressed once more in his jeans, not skintight but very form-fitting. They certainly showed his body contours off to perfection.

To be continued...