The broken nose
Such a sad one this......

Years ago, when I was a student, I worked in the cafe of my local Wm Lows (Tesco now!). The work wasn't bad, much better than stacking shelves, and I actually learned a few things - such as how to make good fried eggs, coffee etc, and the necessity of giving the kitchen a bloody good clean once a week. Also, being the only male in the shop, I could spend the hours flirting with the good ladies who worked there.

As the cafe was near the front doors of the place, we always talked to the security guards. Bizarrely, because the cafe had originally been run by sub-contractors, the rest of the supermarket staff were a bit stand-offish. But the guards were fine. One of the lasses even married one, as I recall.

During the summer months the guards, who were also sub-contracted in, would go on their hols and the company would send replacements, who would fit right in.

But then came Reg, a skinny, ageing fellow who was about as much use as a guard as your average daffodil. Tall, thin, and blessed with a shy demeanour and a stutter, he completely lacked the necessary growling menace associated with your usual supermarket security detail.

However, as he was only there for two weeks, no-one minded and he managed to get on with the job ok, although the store manager - a fearsome 4ft 5 parcel of sheer malevolence - did most of his work in apprehending thieves and scaring off the neds who hung about outside.

But disaster was waiting in the wings....

On his last night he came in for his usual chat and to say goodbye, and as I was the only one on, I made him a free coffee and wished him well. Afterwards, he sauntered out to fulfill his last every duty as a security guard and close the shop doors before going back to tend his flowers and talk to the noddy people, or whatever it as he did in his spare time.

As he slid the glass doors shut, a drunk from the nearby pub staggered up and asked to be let in. Reg smiled, and said 'sorry, we're closed', in as non-threatening a way as you could imagine.

Without so much as a pause or an exclamation, the drunk threw his head back and smashed his forhead full force onto the bridge of Reg's fine longish nose, splitting it across the middle and shattering the bone.

With blood pouring - no, gushing, - out of the wound, he staggered back inside the cafe, where I tried and failed to stem the flow with armfuls of paper towels while trying to reassure Reg all would be ok. It clearly wouldn't, but I tried anyway....

Meanwhile the store manager and a burly trolley jockey ran outside, found the drunk and detained him by simply pushing him over and pushing him again every time he tried to stagger to his feet, until the police arrived.

Reg was taken to hospital, clearly in shock, and I had to spend the rest of my shift cleaning the copious amount of blood he had shed off the floor.

There's no real happy ending to this - I didn't see Reg again as it was his last day, although I'm sure his recovery was long and painful. His nose was really shattered...

As for the drunk, I'm sure he got fined for assault, or even a little jail time. But, somehow, I don't think that would make up for his actions, or help poor trusting Reg get over the shock of being visiously assaulted by a complete stranger for no reason at all....

Isn't life shitty sometimes?



Length? It was a long nose indeed.
(El Fandango carved a big EF onto his nemesis' doublet on .., Wed 20 Feb 2008, 22:01, Reply)