Your job is to sell, sell, sell. Said the money supervisor, leading me across the

showroom floor. Think you can handle that? He turned around and looked at my classic

name tag. Danny. I gave a thumbs up. Good. He snapped. Then continued walking.

When you were on the ground floor, sandwiched between two long rows of beds. It was only

9.20am, but the store was already a beehive of activity. He spoke over his shoulder as

I followed him up a metal stairway, one step behind. Sell as many mattresses as you

can. That's where the profits are. If the customer, CHAP, is inviting, offer discounts.

If that doesn't work, throw in some new sheet or an extra pillow. CHAP! I wanted to say

something about the weird CHAP sound he kept making. But I held my tongue. We reached

the first floor where the mattress is lay stacked on top of one another like playing cards.

There are no breaks. You get 45 minutes for lunch. Be back on time. CHAP! Don't call

in sick. Don't screw around. Don't say anything rude in front of a customer. And remember,

your bone is depends on how many mattresses you sell. Nothing else counts. He paused.

Am I going too fast for you? Nope. I got it. I said confidently. The storeroom is through

He gestured towards a set of double doors marked warehouse staff only beyond this point.

Do not go back there for any reason. Ever. I catch you in there. You're gone. You need something

from the back. Come find me. CHAP! You're paid to stand out here and sell. Understand?

I nodded. Probation last six months. If at any point during that time you aren't hitting

your sales target, which you probably won't. You're gone. CHAP! Got a problem with that.

I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. Good. Any questions? Nope.

As he ticked a bunch of boxes on his clipboard, I couldn't help thinking he was one of the weirdest

looking people I'd ever met. He was bald and pale with bulbous eyes and narrow lips.

...