“Smiffy says she needs more Yorkshire, Wiltshire, and Gammon ham slices on deli.”
“I’m on it, Pete.”
Barry knuckles down to the job. He’s well liked, and he never complains about the work. Going the extra mile, he remembers there weren’t too many pasties left last time he went on the shop floor, so adds a tray and heads out of the chiller.
“Hiya, Barry. How are you, love?”
“Good, thanks. You?”
“Mustn’t grumble; except to the customers, eh,” Liz laughs. “Oh you star: I’ve just sold the last Cornish.”
Barry smiles and loads the cabinet for her. He’s just standing back when he feels his mobile rumble in his pocket. They’re not allowed on the floor, so he slips out with his trolley and asks his team leader for a comfort break.
In the locker room, he checks the phone.
‘Tiger like outline – 6 full script soonest pls. D’
Barry takes his net cap off. A txt, a whoop and a leap, and the shelf-stacker is transformed into a screenwriter.