A way away

Greetings from sunny Suffolk. I am over-the-border, ensconced in a Travelodge and taking advantage of WiFi.
Work was actually fun today. I am shadowing a 35-year-old lunatic called Adam, who seems to have maintained a decade-long career in supermarket management despite being lazy, rude and incompetent. He drinks even more tea than Ron and Ginger Graham, which is amazing. Maybe it’s a psychological requirement of this company - to fit in and succeed you have to ingest six hundred gallons of Assam every morning. I couldn’t keep up. I was off for a piss every thirty minutes and I’d only had one ‘Pot for One’ with my breakfast. Orange juice for me from now on, or I’ll be getting one of my heads.
I have to speak to Graham at the end of every day and give him a ‘progress report’ which is thrilling. He’s the most enthusiastic person in Norfolk. Either he was born with unnatural levels of optimism, or it’s all a big front and he’s trying to cover the fact that his life is full of darkness, pain and self-loathing. Either way, he’s just given me yet more good news - my first four weeks on the job I’ll be working 10-6 Monday-Friday, which means I’ll be doing similar hours to Philippa! Then I go onto something called ‘management shifts’ which I don’t understand yet but I’ll worry about it when I get there.
I’m going to call Philippa now then drink a four-pack of lager from the garage.

RC 1-6-11