On the buses II

I worked at the biscuit factory; on the night shift, for about a year. I think I spot a trend here in that I seemed to have changed employment annually. This change was by choice though, rather than necessity. I mean, I changed jobs because I wanted to. Although, of course, at the time, my choice was rather limited to typically manual working-class type occupations: hands, rather than head.
I got a job working at a petrol station; not the same one I had worked at some years ago. This one was in the centre of town, and it was bigger and a lot busier. It was self-serve, and had a little shop that sold an assortment of sundries.
Three Asian brothers owned the petrol station. They actually had several petrol stations in the area, and they were each responsible for one in particular. The Asian brothers were hard-working and friendly, and I got along with them very well. Thinking about it, mine was quite a responsible job. I had to open-up in the morning and lock-up at night, and put all the money in the safe after a shift (several hundreds of pounds). More than once, I was settling down in bed around midnight, and I got to thinking that I hadn’t locked up; so, of course, I had to go back and check. The main disadvantage about this job was that if the till didn’t balance at the end of the shift, you had to make up the difference out of your wages. I suppose this made you more vigilant and careful, but it was such a busy place that there were sometimes drive-offs when people went off without paying, and you didn’t even notice - this was before ANPR. 



So, adieu my loving captain. adieu to you and all of your crew, with you I'll sail more
​tralallallalallalala