The Hero

This memory is embarrassing, even painful, to recollect. I was in Sporting Goods trying on a pair of jogging shorts. My position as floorwalker requires me to be in top physical health and I find that a daily morning run helps me to stay in top form and to mentally cope with my agonizing marriage. I wanted a new pair of shorts that I had seen in the sale's circular. I also wanted to catch a glimpse of the lift girl.

A quick peek at her legs, an "accidental" brush of her bum as I exited the lift, and I was on my way.

After trying on three lots of jogging shorts, I made my purchase and returned to the department. Upon my return, I found my staff larking about; their display of laxity and joviality was very unprofessional and got right up my nose. I was going to put the world to right. A clockwork mouse scurried through the department and under the Men's counter, startling Mr. Humphries, causing him to shriek loudly. I inquired to whom the mouse belonged to and the staff stood round surreptitiously, eyes darting from one to another. After threatening to keep the entire department after hours and starting to count to ten, Miss Brahms threatened to out Mrs. Slocombe. Mrs. Slocombe admitted the mouse was hers. I snapped at her and admonished her like a school headmaster, then turned the mouse in to Mr. Rumbold. She could retrieve it from his office at the end of the day. I gave Mr Goldberg a tongue-lashing about being sloppy, publicly humiliating him for an egg stain on his tie, three buttons undone on his waistcoat, and his frayed shirt cuffs.

At tea, my staff was enjoying a good laugh at my expense. My subordinates were very disrespectful of me and made snide comments in my absence. I arrived with an inflatable rubber ring from the infirmary so I could sit in relative comfort. When I entered the dining room, there was much tittering and snickering. As I sat down with my paper, their conversation subsided to an uneasy silence of which I made mention. My tea tasted like dirty dishwater and I made comment, to which Mr. Lucas made a comment about how the canteen staff never brings the water to a boil. Many puns were uttered and I was the "butt" of their jokes. They all erupted in uproarious laughter. I knew that they knew and I was mortified. I queried Miss Brahms about how she found out and she pointed at Mrs. Slocombe. The accusations went from one to another until Mr. Goldberg admitted to hearing about it in the strictest confidence. It was when Mr. Harman walked in and said that the Packing Department was asking after me and how was the boil on my bum that I finally threw a wobbler.

I thought I was concealed in the men's dressing room and that a certain degree of privacy was ensured. Apparently I was not as covered by the dressing room curtain as I had assumed, as the salesman who was assisting me had a clear view of my derrière. Despite my fastidiousness in matters of personal hygiene, I had developed a rather large and painful boil on my bum. It is to my advantage that I am a floorwalker and am on my feet and moving about the department and not sitting where the festering carbuncle could be aggravated. So there I was with my bum exposed and his eyes observing, taking it all in. (I wonder if he was actually staring at the boil and not my manliness). So being the blabbermouth he is, Mr Franco disclosed my delicate indisposition to one of my co-workers, Mr. Goldberg.

Mr. Goldberg and I go way back to our time in the Army together. His account of my service is quite different from my account and this discrepancy has caused quite a bit of strife between us. The boil on my bum just added fuel to his malice toward me and his utterance of my very personal affliction had caused me to be a laughingstock in the department.

After tea, the staff and I assembled in Mr. Rumbold's office. I complained to Mr. Rumbold and he contacted Mr. Franco on the telephone, demanding an apology. Mr. Franco laughed hysterically at that suggestion. I was rathered chuffed, resenting the slight I had just been dealt. My first instinct was to go to the Sports Department and punch him on the nose, but then thought the better of it. Mr. Rumbold told him that much. In my puffed up state, I made mention that I was the Welter Weight Runner-Up for the RASC at Marsa Matruh. Of course, Mr. Rumbold boasted of my athletic prowess, getting it the wrong way round, and instead said I was the Welter Weight Champion of Marsa Matruh. I soon found myself in a challenge with Mr. Franco to a duel, or more precisely, a boxing match. I don't know how I found myself in this predicament; I was clearly the victim of savage maliciousness.

One of the perks of defending my honour was that Mrs. Slocombe seemed enamored with me; she'd asked me to sign her sales book so she could have my autograph. Mr. Humphries languished in the scent of my after shave. The lift girl sneaked off of her post and stole a kiss from me. I was basking in the attention until Mr. Harman informed me of Mr. Franco's abilities and I became anxious. I called Young Mr. Grace to hopefully get the fight cancelled, but he admitted to having a wager on it…in favour of Mr. Franco! I panicked; I didn't want to lose face, but the whole situation had gotten out of control. I had let my pride get the better of me and I stood to be trounced in front of the whole store.
I made up a story of how I'd been to the doctor and he'd given me and injection of antibiotic and instructed me not to drink alcohol or box. A very poor display of leadership and a lack of guttural fortitude on my part, but desperate times called for desperate actions. I was a lily-livered coward and it was crunch time.
Mr. Rumbold informed me that the honour of the department was riding on this fight. I suggested he fight Mr. Franco and he countered with the fact the he wore glasses. Mr. Lucas was suggested and he gave an excuse of how his aging mother would die if he'd been hurt and that he'd joined a non-violent religious sect. Mr. Goldberg had been known as Gruesome Goldberg, having gotten into a lot of scraps as a lad, but having one lung and a truss, he would not be much of a threat.

Mrs. Slocombe declared the whole lot of us "weak as water!" as she often does.

When Mr. Humphries proffered that he was the Catch-As-Catch-Can Champion of the Barleymore Road Mixed Infants, known as "Hugger Humphries". I found my "out" and Mr. Humphries found himself conscripted to fight Mr. Franco. Since the Sports Department could not find a pair of boxing gloves big enough to fit Mr. Franco's hands, a wrestling match was decided.

I sat there, pensive, watching a junior from my department defend my honour. Mr. Humphries was taking quite a beating on my behalf. Mrs. Slocombe was calling out the various wrestling maneuvers that Mr. Franco was meting out. Unable to endure her friend being mistreated any further, Mrs. Slocombe jumped into the ring and flipped Mr. Franco on his back, pinning him, and winning the match. Mr. Harman declared Mrs. Slocombe the victor.

Mr. Harman hoisted her hand in the air, "When a woman has a bee in her bonnet, we'd better be'ave!" to which Mrs. Slocombe countered, addressing to me: "When a man has a boil on his bum, he'd better belt up!"

I was found out as a fraud and sat there with egg on my face; I'd been called out for being a Nancy Boy. I was in one piece, but my honour and reputation were damaged, quite possibly irreparably. I'm just relieved that my wife wasn't there to witness the indignity.