Ahhh, the strenuous world of hardware! You take me under your wing every Saturday morning, nurturing me within your mecca of tools, timber and decor. Strengthening the sole of my feet as I stand there, manning register 715 in my hideous mustard t-shirt and poorly pinned nametag which SCREAMS my name out to all the world, ensuring that I am easily identifiable to tradesmen, frustrated mothers and poorly visioned old people.

"Good Morning Victoria"

??

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Perhaps not.

But I will allow the customers to compare thee to Bunnings... and other associated rival companies... when prices are too high and queues span longer than a piece of string.

Weekend jobs are the pits. I should know - I've been planted behind the same set of cash registers for 12 months now - dodging frustrated sighs and barely escaping the fury of many an angry customer. I'm OVER retail. Tired of squealing 'NEXT PLEASE'... of strangers calling me by name and most of all:

losing every Saturday.

Sometime, customers are nice. Sometimes, they are horrible - speaking to me as though I am as dumb as a doorknob. The only thing missing is a 'please do not disturb' sign to hang from neck, marking, quite satirically, my fear of insanity and the fact that one day,I may indeed become disturbed for good.

But it's not all that bad. There are some nice people there - a handful of 'cool' youngsters (myself included), a bevy of smoking women and the majority, being white haired veterans of retail: 60 year old men not quite ready for retirement, who wander the store in search of customers to help.

So yesterday, I took advantage of our ageing staff population and took to 'question time' with my favourite foggy, a 68 year old named 'Evan'.

Evan is our security guard. He stands at the main door, checking bags, prams and much to my surprise:

checking out women!

I gasped!

"Old people perv?" I asked him.

"Of course we do!" he responds.

"At who?"

"Women" he tells me

I got to wondering. What sort of women would Evan like? The delicate, lavendar smelling type with pinkish hair and walking frames... or the more outspoken, long white hair booming grannys? So I asked him his preferance...

"Young ones" he says.

"You mean, post world war 2 babies?" I asked.

"No. Young ones... with perky backsides and plump, wrinkle free skin"

Wow & Barf... old men still perv.

Having realised that old men are just as shallow as young ones, my heart skipped a beat when I thought about all those 70-something year old Bertha's and Marjory's, getting their hair and nails done at the retirement village, only to be outshone by perky nurses and miscellanous grandaughters friends'.

SHAME !!!!

All of a sudden it struck me like a timber handled, ryobi electronic nail gun to the lower temple,

no matter how young or old, men are always looking to jump the queue and find the next best checkout operator. The one that is fastest, easier for them to get to you... and will stand there patiently while they fumble around in the trouser pocket of life sifting through small change and a mid life crisis.

So have a nice day, and if you're gramatically inclined, consider the following and laugh along with me:

"A woman: without her, man is nothing"

"A woman, without her man, is nothing."

Nasty.