Hard Times
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: A few strong ones.
Description: Escaping from Scotland to Northern Ireland in the middle of the Troubles was never the best of ideas, but you learn the hard way when you're young.
_____________________________________________________________________
Six months into his first job since leaving school and Jimmy reckoned he pretty much had it sussed. The hotel was massive, the second biggest in the city and the work came to him so easily he could have handled it standing on his head.
At first he was like a fish out of water. A couldn't care less under achiever at school, he was plucked from there a little earlier than he should have legally left and started work, miles from home and a mere two days later.
His old man had arranged it without letting on since, with a new baby on the way, the family home was running out of beds. Jimmy took the explanation on the chin and didn't cast a backward glance when he vacated the premises. He loved his family but he hated the cramped conditions and, being the eldest, having to cajole his siblings into getting dressed for school and making sure they had breakfast into the bargain.
He met up with his father's friend, another Jimmy, and was escorted to the hotel fifty or so miles away. Jimmy senior had worked there for five years and had put in a good word for him. On the train ride he filled him in on the details of the job.
Jimmy was delighted he only had to share a room with one other person and reckoned he was off to a good start. Den, his roommate was two years older, had worked there for about six months and assured Jimmy there was nothing to it.
There wasn't, not when he got the hang of it. After a week, Jimmy was as confident as any of the seasoned waiters in the restaurant. Pretty soon he was scheming and scamming, starting with the food. The staff offering wasn't a patch on what he was serving at tables so he commandeered a pad and began writing out his own orders, timing it so his choice would be ready just as he was finishing his shift whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.
Something else rankled him, tips, an unfair system. For the first twelve months, commis, or junior waiters weren't entitled to a share of the tips and had to deposit them in the box for the others to divide. Within a month he devised a way of letting his customers know this. Many of them, regular visitors and not necessarily hotel guests, would agree to the injustice of this and ask Jimmy to bring their tea or coffee to the lounge. Away from prying eyes they would slip him a couple of quid, sometimes even a fiver, thus bypassing the tip box completely.
Den couldn't understand why Jimmy always seemed to have a lot more money than he did. Jimmy spelled it out for him but Den didn't have the necessary cheeky nature to carry the scam.
Still, they became great friends. Den looked older than his years which was Jimmy's passport into the local pubs. He would sidle into a corner and send Den to the bar, no one ever asked his age.
The work was split shifts. Five thirty rise for six o'clock start, free time between ten and midday, work from noon 'til two thirty then back again for dinner, finishing around eleven.
When a vacancy came up for afternoon duty, Jimmy was offered the job but refused, having no hesitation whatsoever in recommending Den instead.
Afternoon duty meant working through after lunch, preparing all the tables, the serving stations and just generally tidying the restaurant in readiness for the evening meal. Den loved it. If he took a run at it he could be finished by four thirty, giving him thirteen hours to himself before he had to report back for breakfast duty.
Jimmy told him he would have taken it on himself but that it would cost him money, money he had become accustomed to making and spending.
Around the six month mark, everything was running smoothly when two new waiters arrived. Jimmy knew they were trouble as soon as he set eyes on them and kept his distance. Something about their abrasive manner, the way they seemed hell bent on rubbing everyone up the wrong way. Den had a bit of a run in with them, something and nothing. The following day they tried to drown him in the bath and punctured him with a knife when he managed to clamber out and sound the alarm.
They were carted off to the cells and charged with attempted murder, Den was carted off to the hospital and spent almost a week there.
Jimmy visited with baskets of goodies from the hotel along with best wishes from the staff, but he could see his friend had been shocked to the core.
Den was sent home for rest and recuperation, Jimmy very much doubted he'd be back and started hanging around with Gerry and Mick, two Irish brothers who had escaped the Troubles to find a better life for themselves.
Gerry set his cap at one of the receptionists, was warned off about fraternising with junior management and promptly found himself employment at another hotel. His new place was non residential so Jimmy helped him out with the deposit for a flat nearby. Gerry continued to call on his young lady, cocking a snook at the ignorant bastards who had tried to dampen his ardour.
Jimmy and Mick became big mates, spending their spare time flitting between the pubs and the betting shops.
Then, one Monday out of the blue, Den showed up for work, it was short lived. The welcome back celebrations commenced at two thirty when lunch was over, kicked off with a good win on the horses and continued via a number of pubs, on into the evening.
Jimmy, Den and Mick failed to turn up to work the dinner shift. A note slipped under each of their doors advised them to pick up what was owing in the morning and leave the premises.
Jimmy tried to square it with the head waiter but to no avail, his hands were tied, he did let slip it had come from the manager who had warned Gerry off, this was his revenge.
The trio used Gerry's flat as a bolthole, Gerry now stayed most nights with his young lady.
The flat was next door to a pub and joined by a passageway with a locked door at either end.
Four days and a poor run on the horses later they were in a bad way. Jimmy sold his collection of soul records and his record player to keep them afloat but by that evening they only had a couple of quid left between them.
Nursing a beer in the pub next door, Jimmy spied the key in the connecting door and the plan took shape. On his way to the toilet he locked the door and pocketed the key.
After ten thirty that night, the three crept along the passageway, listened intently for any signs of late drinkers on the other side of the door, turned the key and tiptoed in. The shutters were down but Jimmy had noticed a small serving hatch between the bar and the tiny lounge room. One sliding bolt was all that protected it and soon it was open. Jimmy had come prepared, wearing a pair of socks on his hands to avoid leaving prints. Mick gave him a boost through the hatch while Den kept lookout. His first target was the till, fumbling with the notes and giving up with the change. Then it was the cigarettes, quickly followed by a full bottle of whisky from the gantry.
Retracing their steps and being careful to lock the door behind them, they repaired to the flat to divide the spoils. They made short work of the whisky, decided they were hungry and sloped into the night to find food. Jimmy disposed of the key and the empty bottle on the way then sold off most of the cigarettes at their favourite restaurant.
Full of spaghetti and beer, they staggered back to the flat to sleep it off and were rudely awakened at six o'clock by the police. All three stuck to their story, they hadn't heard a thing. The police weren't convinced and said they'd be back with more questions. Jimmy was all for bluffing it out but the other two weren't so sure, Mick was suddenly homesick and Den had visions of himself being locked up in a cell with his attempted murderers.
Jimmy relented, suggested a day at the local racetrack to try and reinforce their funds before making good their escape and promised to leave with them.
They packed their belongings, a small suitcase each, left word at Gerry's hotel for him, put the cases into the left luggage office at the railway station and headed to the cafe for breakfast.
The day at the races was a big success and they came out with twenty five quid between them. Jimmy decided he would accompany Mick and try his luck in Northern Ireland. Den had nowhere to go and reckoned he would tag along.
A train ride to Stranraer and they spent the night at the ferry terminal, crossing to Belfast on the first boat the following morning.
From Belfast, they had to negotiate their way to Mick's home town of Dungannon. Mick advised they should hold on to what cash they had since the train journey and the ferry had knocked a hole in it, they would try to hitch a lift.
Dungannon lay at the far end of the motorway from Belfast but they made little headway and were kicked off the hard shoulder twice by the police. Night fell again and they were about to settle down under a motorway bridge when a friend of Mick's spotted him and stopped.
They piled in and were soon at Mick's parents’ house. Jimmy took the scene in and looked at Den, both agreed it was very much like where they were brought up, somehow, they had expected it to be a lot different.
They were made welcome, Mick's parents were a little shocked to learn their youngest son, Gerry, planned to marry and stay where he was in Scotland. Food was provided and furniture moved so their guests could sleep.
In the morning they were fed again, then Jimmy and Den were told they couldn't stay there, these were hard times, surely they understood that?
Mick was all apologies, he hadn't thought it through, he would take them to the labour exchange, if they could find work they would find accommodation, nothing to worry about.
They fared no better at the labour exchange. Jimmy didn't go in after hearing the conversation with Den from behind the flimsy door, and the laughter, didn't he know these were hard times? It was suggested maybe he should fuck off back to his own country and try for work there.
To his credit, Mick tipped up his share of their pooled resources, he had a roof and a bed.
They spent the rest of the day trailing round the local hotels, such as they were, looking for work, everyone laughed but them.
Den spotted a derelict house and suggested they spend the night there so they stashed their cases and headed for the chip shop, at least they would eat, Mick took that as his chance to leave them to it.
As they devoured their food they heard music coming from above a pub in the town centre. Den paid to get in and did enough to distract the guy on the door so Jimmy could sneak past, they would be warm for a while.
By the end of the evening, Jimmy had charmed his way into the affections of a young local lady, her father drove a bus and parked it on some waste land near her house at night, they could sleep there.
Den did the decent thing and stayed outside for a couple of smokes while Jimmy tested the seat springs, the girl gave him the nod as she straightened her clothing on her way past.
The noise of the engine turning over interrupted their sleep, hard to tell who was more surprised when they asked the driver to let them off at the next corner.
Mick had a worried look about him when they reached the derelict house, he had a notion maybe the police had lifted them. He had food, boiled eggs and bread, and a brilliant idea.
The priest eyed them suspiciously, he knew Mick, vaguely, but the other two were strangers.
Den spoke up, asked for a handout, claiming to be a good Catholic and down on his luck. Jimmy chimed in with the same story. The priest seemed to mellow a little and invited Den into his inner sanctum to discuss the matter
Five minutes later Den reappeared, white as a sheet and saying the bastard of a priest wanted to fuck him. Jimmy shaped to go in after the priest but Mick managed to calm things down and drag him away.
As a last resort, Jimmy went to the labour exchange, told them that since they were British citizens they were entitled to some type of benefit or other, said he wasn't moving until it was sorted out.
An hour later he and Den found themselves sitting in a shithole of a cafe, eating chips and egg and drinking hot, sweet tea. Added to that, they each had a ferry ticket to the mainland, they were to consider themselves persona non grata. Put in layman's terms, they had been deported.
They didn't bother saying goodbye to Mick, he should have seen this coming, furthermore, he shouldn't have stopped Jimmy from getting to that bastard priest.
It wasn't the same ferry, more a cattle boat used by farmers. Jimmy was past caring, they could keep their precious hospitality and their hard times, he had hard times enough of his own.
At Stranraer he shook hands with Den. No offence, but together they only seemed to attract bad luck, bad luck and hard times, this would be the parting of the ways.
Den would try to get back in with his old man. Jimmy took his suitcase and his thumb to the opposite side of the road, if there were hard times ahead, they would be his own hard times and no one else's.
Swearwords: A few strong ones.
Description: Escaping from Scotland to Northern Ireland in the middle of the Troubles was never the best of ideas, but you learn the hard way when you're young.
_____________________________________________________________________
Six months into his first job since leaving school and Jimmy reckoned he pretty much had it sussed. The hotel was massive, the second biggest in the city and the work came to him so easily he could have handled it standing on his head.
At first he was like a fish out of water. A couldn't care less under achiever at school, he was plucked from there a little earlier than he should have legally left and started work, miles from home and a mere two days later.
His old man had arranged it without letting on since, with a new baby on the way, the family home was running out of beds. Jimmy took the explanation on the chin and didn't cast a backward glance when he vacated the premises. He loved his family but he hated the cramped conditions and, being the eldest, having to cajole his siblings into getting dressed for school and making sure they had breakfast into the bargain.
He met up with his father's friend, another Jimmy, and was escorted to the hotel fifty or so miles away. Jimmy senior had worked there for five years and had put in a good word for him. On the train ride he filled him in on the details of the job.
Jimmy was delighted he only had to share a room with one other person and reckoned he was off to a good start. Den, his roommate was two years older, had worked there for about six months and assured Jimmy there was nothing to it.
There wasn't, not when he got the hang of it. After a week, Jimmy was as confident as any of the seasoned waiters in the restaurant. Pretty soon he was scheming and scamming, starting with the food. The staff offering wasn't a patch on what he was serving at tables so he commandeered a pad and began writing out his own orders, timing it so his choice would be ready just as he was finishing his shift whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.
Something else rankled him, tips, an unfair system. For the first twelve months, commis, or junior waiters weren't entitled to a share of the tips and had to deposit them in the box for the others to divide. Within a month he devised a way of letting his customers know this. Many of them, regular visitors and not necessarily hotel guests, would agree to the injustice of this and ask Jimmy to bring their tea or coffee to the lounge. Away from prying eyes they would slip him a couple of quid, sometimes even a fiver, thus bypassing the tip box completely.
Den couldn't understand why Jimmy always seemed to have a lot more money than he did. Jimmy spelled it out for him but Den didn't have the necessary cheeky nature to carry the scam.
Still, they became great friends. Den looked older than his years which was Jimmy's passport into the local pubs. He would sidle into a corner and send Den to the bar, no one ever asked his age.
The work was split shifts. Five thirty rise for six o'clock start, free time between ten and midday, work from noon 'til two thirty then back again for dinner, finishing around eleven.
When a vacancy came up for afternoon duty, Jimmy was offered the job but refused, having no hesitation whatsoever in recommending Den instead.
Afternoon duty meant working through after lunch, preparing all the tables, the serving stations and just generally tidying the restaurant in readiness for the evening meal. Den loved it. If he took a run at it he could be finished by four thirty, giving him thirteen hours to himself before he had to report back for breakfast duty.
Jimmy told him he would have taken it on himself but that it would cost him money, money he had become accustomed to making and spending.
Around the six month mark, everything was running smoothly when two new waiters arrived. Jimmy knew they were trouble as soon as he set eyes on them and kept his distance. Something about their abrasive manner, the way they seemed hell bent on rubbing everyone up the wrong way. Den had a bit of a run in with them, something and nothing. The following day they tried to drown him in the bath and punctured him with a knife when he managed to clamber out and sound the alarm.
They were carted off to the cells and charged with attempted murder, Den was carted off to the hospital and spent almost a week there.
Jimmy visited with baskets of goodies from the hotel along with best wishes from the staff, but he could see his friend had been shocked to the core.
Den was sent home for rest and recuperation, Jimmy very much doubted he'd be back and started hanging around with Gerry and Mick, two Irish brothers who had escaped the Troubles to find a better life for themselves.
Gerry set his cap at one of the receptionists, was warned off about fraternising with junior management and promptly found himself employment at another hotel. His new place was non residential so Jimmy helped him out with the deposit for a flat nearby. Gerry continued to call on his young lady, cocking a snook at the ignorant bastards who had tried to dampen his ardour.
Jimmy and Mick became big mates, spending their spare time flitting between the pubs and the betting shops.
Then, one Monday out of the blue, Den showed up for work, it was short lived. The welcome back celebrations commenced at two thirty when lunch was over, kicked off with a good win on the horses and continued via a number of pubs, on into the evening.
Jimmy, Den and Mick failed to turn up to work the dinner shift. A note slipped under each of their doors advised them to pick up what was owing in the morning and leave the premises.
Jimmy tried to square it with the head waiter but to no avail, his hands were tied, he did let slip it had come from the manager who had warned Gerry off, this was his revenge.
The trio used Gerry's flat as a bolthole, Gerry now stayed most nights with his young lady.
The flat was next door to a pub and joined by a passageway with a locked door at either end.
Four days and a poor run on the horses later they were in a bad way. Jimmy sold his collection of soul records and his record player to keep them afloat but by that evening they only had a couple of quid left between them.
Nursing a beer in the pub next door, Jimmy spied the key in the connecting door and the plan took shape. On his way to the toilet he locked the door and pocketed the key.
After ten thirty that night, the three crept along the passageway, listened intently for any signs of late drinkers on the other side of the door, turned the key and tiptoed in. The shutters were down but Jimmy had noticed a small serving hatch between the bar and the tiny lounge room. One sliding bolt was all that protected it and soon it was open. Jimmy had come prepared, wearing a pair of socks on his hands to avoid leaving prints. Mick gave him a boost through the hatch while Den kept lookout. His first target was the till, fumbling with the notes and giving up with the change. Then it was the cigarettes, quickly followed by a full bottle of whisky from the gantry.
Retracing their steps and being careful to lock the door behind them, they repaired to the flat to divide the spoils. They made short work of the whisky, decided they were hungry and sloped into the night to find food. Jimmy disposed of the key and the empty bottle on the way then sold off most of the cigarettes at their favourite restaurant.
Full of spaghetti and beer, they staggered back to the flat to sleep it off and were rudely awakened at six o'clock by the police. All three stuck to their story, they hadn't heard a thing. The police weren't convinced and said they'd be back with more questions. Jimmy was all for bluffing it out but the other two weren't so sure, Mick was suddenly homesick and Den had visions of himself being locked up in a cell with his attempted murderers.
Jimmy relented, suggested a day at the local racetrack to try and reinforce their funds before making good their escape and promised to leave with them.
They packed their belongings, a small suitcase each, left word at Gerry's hotel for him, put the cases into the left luggage office at the railway station and headed to the cafe for breakfast.
The day at the races was a big success and they came out with twenty five quid between them. Jimmy decided he would accompany Mick and try his luck in Northern Ireland. Den had nowhere to go and reckoned he would tag along.
A train ride to Stranraer and they spent the night at the ferry terminal, crossing to Belfast on the first boat the following morning.
From Belfast, they had to negotiate their way to Mick's home town of Dungannon. Mick advised they should hold on to what cash they had since the train journey and the ferry had knocked a hole in it, they would try to hitch a lift.
Dungannon lay at the far end of the motorway from Belfast but they made little headway and were kicked off the hard shoulder twice by the police. Night fell again and they were about to settle down under a motorway bridge when a friend of Mick's spotted him and stopped.
They piled in and were soon at Mick's parents’ house. Jimmy took the scene in and looked at Den, both agreed it was very much like where they were brought up, somehow, they had expected it to be a lot different.
They were made welcome, Mick's parents were a little shocked to learn their youngest son, Gerry, planned to marry and stay where he was in Scotland. Food was provided and furniture moved so their guests could sleep.
In the morning they were fed again, then Jimmy and Den were told they couldn't stay there, these were hard times, surely they understood that?
Mick was all apologies, he hadn't thought it through, he would take them to the labour exchange, if they could find work they would find accommodation, nothing to worry about.
They fared no better at the labour exchange. Jimmy didn't go in after hearing the conversation with Den from behind the flimsy door, and the laughter, didn't he know these were hard times? It was suggested maybe he should fuck off back to his own country and try for work there.
To his credit, Mick tipped up his share of their pooled resources, he had a roof and a bed.
They spent the rest of the day trailing round the local hotels, such as they were, looking for work, everyone laughed but them.
Den spotted a derelict house and suggested they spend the night there so they stashed their cases and headed for the chip shop, at least they would eat, Mick took that as his chance to leave them to it.
As they devoured their food they heard music coming from above a pub in the town centre. Den paid to get in and did enough to distract the guy on the door so Jimmy could sneak past, they would be warm for a while.
By the end of the evening, Jimmy had charmed his way into the affections of a young local lady, her father drove a bus and parked it on some waste land near her house at night, they could sleep there.
Den did the decent thing and stayed outside for a couple of smokes while Jimmy tested the seat springs, the girl gave him the nod as she straightened her clothing on her way past.
The noise of the engine turning over interrupted their sleep, hard to tell who was more surprised when they asked the driver to let them off at the next corner.
Mick had a worried look about him when they reached the derelict house, he had a notion maybe the police had lifted them. He had food, boiled eggs and bread, and a brilliant idea.
The priest eyed them suspiciously, he knew Mick, vaguely, but the other two were strangers.
Den spoke up, asked for a handout, claiming to be a good Catholic and down on his luck. Jimmy chimed in with the same story. The priest seemed to mellow a little and invited Den into his inner sanctum to discuss the matter
Five minutes later Den reappeared, white as a sheet and saying the bastard of a priest wanted to fuck him. Jimmy shaped to go in after the priest but Mick managed to calm things down and drag him away.
As a last resort, Jimmy went to the labour exchange, told them that since they were British citizens they were entitled to some type of benefit or other, said he wasn't moving until it was sorted out.
An hour later he and Den found themselves sitting in a shithole of a cafe, eating chips and egg and drinking hot, sweet tea. Added to that, they each had a ferry ticket to the mainland, they were to consider themselves persona non grata. Put in layman's terms, they had been deported.
They didn't bother saying goodbye to Mick, he should have seen this coming, furthermore, he shouldn't have stopped Jimmy from getting to that bastard priest.
It wasn't the same ferry, more a cattle boat used by farmers. Jimmy was past caring, they could keep their precious hospitality and their hard times, he had hard times enough of his own.
At Stranraer he shook hands with Den. No offence, but together they only seemed to attract bad luck, bad luck and hard times, this would be the parting of the ways.
Den would try to get back in with his old man. Jimmy took his suitcase and his thumb to the opposite side of the road, if there were hard times ahead, they would be his own hard times and no one else's.
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in his 50s, an ex seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in sunny Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing. He is inspired by the Ayrshire coast and likes what he calls ‘real music’. He also enjoys pool, snooker and is a big fan of rugby league side, Wigan Warriors. He has written several novels and one poetry collection and says that writing gives him ‘endless pleasure’. His two ebooks can be viewed by clicking on the images below.