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Lyons
was my first employer - 1965/66 - a
few memories of another Saturday/school
holiday boy for you. Jobs in Lyons
were prized; a school friend was leaving;
I got his job. My teashop was in
Chelmsford High Street - a short frontage
with a narrow shop that went back
quite a way with a bend part way down. My
duties were mainly on the tea and coffee -
and hot Ribena, served in a glass with
metal holder - counter with occasional
forays into the exalted areas of light
meals a short distance down the counter.
Boy, was it hot in summer with all that
steam and fat! Uniform was a tatty,
frayed, short white coat, albeit
clean and starched at the start of a day.
There was a constant battle, via the
service lift -electric dumb waiter
- (with its speaking tube), with the
kitchen staff upstairs for more
cups. A small churn of milk stood
behind the counter. Unrefrigerated, it was
likely to "turn" in summer. Cleaned cups
often still had lipstick and tea stains -
the great British public rarely complained
- although one did when glass (no doubt
from the action of the high speed cleaning
brush on a tumbler in the
kitchen) was discovered lurking
beneath the surface of a
cuppa. Surprisingly, he seemed quite
happy with a fresh cup of tea. (Today, he
would have, no doubt, sued).
Staff
meals came at funny times - yes, I too
remember pie, chips and vegies at 10:30
(or 2:30). The staff canteen
was like a large windowless cell
behind the kitchen upstairs. Upstairs at
the front, was the holy of holies, the
silver service restaurant with waiting
staff. I never aspired to that. To
me, the key staff were the manageress
(sometimes formidable, sometimes
attractive, sometimes both) and the
cashier, a middle aged woman who
never seemed to have a holiday.
Other
memories. To encourage recalcitrant late
diners to leave, we would stack
neighbouring tables with chairs. Cleaning
out the milk side of the coffee urns at
the end of the day - and being told
to do it again by the manageress. Being
told to sweep up spilt sugar in the pantry
and put it back in the container. Big bags
of expired cakes to take home on Saturday
night - and cream bun fights out the back
with some of the same. Pay(after PAYE and
a short-lived Selective Employment Tax)
was one pound, twelve shillings and
sixpence for a very long Saturday.
I
remember my Joe Lyons days with
a mixture of horror and affection. I've
moved on to other jobs (I'm a surveyor)
and other countries (New Zealand,
principally). It was a good grounding for
a working life, gave me my
first paypacket (which LEO would have
had a hand in) and independence - and
those cakes were pretty good too.
I recall
the equipment in the kitchen upstairs -
that clanking, chain type dishwasher and
high-speed brush cup cleaner that exploded
glass tumblers if you pressed too hard. It
was like Singapore in there - I got a mate
a job working there - he didn't last long!
Last memories are of my final day, at
the bus stop on a Saturday night clutching
my bag of expired cakes. The steely,
portly, middle-aged, manageress was
also there - I'd told her I was
starting with the Ordnance Survey in
Southampton the next week. "You'll like it
there, I used to be the manageress at
the teashop near the Bargate". She
smiled; she was human after all.
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