Hastings vs The Grumpy Donor
Today in the charity shop was one of those days. You know the type – when everyone in the parish decides to clear out their attic at exactly the same time. By midday, we were drowning in donations. The rails were packed tighter than a Ryanair cabin, the bric-a-brac shelves were overflowing, and Hastings (our shop manager) was practically buried under black bags of jumpers, DVDs nobody watches anymore, and boxes of chipped mugs.
Around 2pm, this Irish fella walked in carrying two massive black bags. Normally, we’d be delighted – donations keep the shop alive. But today, we simply had no space left to even stand, let alone store more. I smiled and explained as politely as I could, “Sorry, we’re completely full today. We can’t take any more donations at the moment.”
His face twisted instantly, like he’d bitten straight into a lemon. “Ah for feck’s sake. I’m never donating to this charity shop again,” he snapped, turning on his heel and stomping out the door, the bags swinging angrily by his sides.
I just shrugged. Eh, like I give a crap. Hastings popped his head out from behind the donations mountain, eyebrows raised in silent amusement. “Grand so,” he muttered under his breath, before disappearing back into the chaos, rummaging through another box of mismatched socks and mysterious kitchen gadgets from 1982.
Don’t get me wrong – we love donations. But charity shops aren’t warehouses. We’ve limited space, strict safety rules, and staff sanity to protect. So next time your local shop says they’re full, don’t take it personally. We’d rather keep the place tidy than risk an avalanche of festive jumpers burying poor Hastings alive.
As for our grumpy donor? Maybe he’ll be back next week. Maybe not. Either way, we’ll carry on, doing our best with a smile… and a hefty pinch of salt.
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