Shelf Life: How I Found The Meaning of Life Stacking Supermarket Shelves [Paperback]

The day I was appointed Chair of the shop union was the same day the Pope was elected. There the similarities end, however. For while his elevation took place beneath the fine art of the Sistine Chapel, with the mysterious white smoke rising, mine took place in the cold store, with nothing more mysterious than the bacon delivery and yesterday's waste...

A vicar for twenty years, Simon Parke trades in his dog collar for a job on the tills in his local supermarket. Among the vegetable aisles and dairy produce he unpacks the meaning of life with his fellow workers, a colourful bunch. Sonny the security guard hates conflict; shelf-filler Winston knows he is destined for something better; and voluptuous Faith is generous with her wares - but sadly not with Simon. You don't have to be off your trolley to work there, but it helps...

From checkout charlies to banana rage, from short-changed lows to cold store highs, Shelf Life is a pick-n-mix of wit and wisdom for anyone who loves life and hopes for more - no matter where they find themselves.

Sonny our security guard starts his shift at 2.00 pm, and gets on with everyone. There is no one Sonny doesn't get on with. Do not be fooled by his job title, however. He is a nice man, who plays a full part in shop life - but he doesn't catch thieves; indeed, he hates all conflict. I'm not sure who advised him towards his current employment.

The company employs security staff reluctantly, and we only qualify for eight hours during the day. This means that in the morning, we must watch the store for ourselves. As shop floor staff, we are encouraged to be vigilant. But beyond this, things get a little vague. In my early days with the store, I was naïve enough to imagine that thieves should be chased and apprehended. Twice I chased thieves down the road and caught them. I run every morning, including a half marathon every Sunday, so truly, it was a joy to be out of the shop, feeling the breeze, and with a runner ahead of me to follow.

I chased the first bloke for about 300 yards and he was understandably put out by my arrival on his shoulder. He had sprinted out of the shop, crossed the road, and then disappeared at speed down a side street. I saw him through the window, heard Faith screaming `Thief!' and thought `Why not?' I am almost run over myself as I leg it across the road, aware that he has a start on me. But a couple of hundred fast yards later, I turn the corner to find him meandering along, contemplating his free salmon lunch.

He is most perturbed when I join him, and I can see his point of view. People didn't usually come after him when he stole things, and we all find it hard when our patterns are disrupted.

`I'll fucking stab you,' he says, as a way of moving me on. But he seemed an unlikely stabber, and so we walked together for a while. He asks me if I'd worked in the shop long, and I am just beginning my answer when he drops the fish at my feet and runs off. It was an all too brief encounter, and I'm ashamed to say I haven't kept in touch.

The second thief was a middle-aged man and a physical wreck, who unwisely chose to escape up the hill with his £100 worth of meat. He had filled his basket with prime steaks, moved towards the tills as if to pay, and then suddenly made for the door. He pushed past me, so I was after him immediately, and it proved a disappointingly short chase. It was like watching a man run up a sand dune, and he dropped the meat about a hundred yards from the store, breathless. Mohammed joined me as we watched him stagger off towards the flats. I was a bit worried for his health as he disappeared from view; he didn't look well, and some steak might have done him good. But there we are. If you don't have a getaway driver, you need to be in shape for stunts like this. At least next time he should consider a downhill escape.