Middle-class welfare
Chris turned out to have a degree, too.
He hadnt said anything, that first time wed met: probably a bit wary, like me, in case they didnt give him the job. You know, you could always imagine someone saying, "He wont stick it ... only filling in time until he gets a proper job ... have to train someone else, anyway ... not worth taking him on ..
Anyway, we got talking, obviously, when wed got into our stride, and it was clear he wasnt having any problems remembering the lists Id call out to him, glancing at the extras page, as we pulled up to the next strategic stop.
"Numbers 3, 5, 9a, 13 and 15 ... one, one, two, two, one-and-an-O.J."
Doing it like that, he soon got the rhythm of the round: the best place to stop the float; the best grouping of houses to do together. We agreed Id do the bookwork, that day, since he didnt really need to be supervised on that ... and Id do the left side of the road, generally, while he learned the right side.
I could tell he was enjoying himself ... the artistry of exploiting the shortcuts, minimising the toing and froing, maximising efficiency, so as to get done as quickly as possible. Not like an office job! Youd look at your watch, not in despair at the hours passing so slowly, but to see if you were on schedule for a record run. The rest of the day would be your own, and if the sun was already hot, at seven-thirty ... you could look forward to lounging on the beach, after lunch.
So it turned out hed got a degree in something like European Studies, or Literature ... something arty like that from Sussex University. Couldnt think of anything he particularly wanted to do with it, and nothing seemed to come up, through the P.E.R., so he decided hed better find something to save being on the dole too long. Not that either of us had any particular objections to the dole, on principle.
Way I see it, he confided, the State pays out less if I go on the dole, than if I stay on and do research, say. You know, its always tempting to stay in the cosy university world if you can ... middle-class welfare, and all that ... but Id just as soon do things this way. Go on the dole when I want to do a bit of my own "research" and then if theres any jobs going, give it a go for a bit But then again, I dont need a "proper job" like your average family man, and so on, so I wouldnt want to be depriving anyone, by taking a job someone else needs more than me. I suppose that sounds a bit daft
Not at all! Makes perfectly good sense, to me! Mind you, dont go saying that sort of thing to the blokes who havent got a degree ... theyd think you were having them on ... taking the mickey, you know
Oh, no! Wouldnt dream of ... but since you said youd got a degree, too
Youd be surprised how many of us middle-class university sorts there are, on the milk, though! You know David L.? One of Spuds "deputies" ...?
What ... the tall one, with glasses ...?
Mm. Thats David L.: he was a teacher. At least, I dont know if he ever got a job, but hes qualified. Then theres Pete, out on the Lewes runs ... we dont see much of him, obviously, but hes a nice bloke. Degree in Chemistry, him.
So were not alone!
Far from it! Still a minority, mind you. The enlightened few!
Anyway, it just happened I saw Spud one morning: he was delivering my milk, and apologising about having to double up ... he said they were so short-staffed, even he had to try and cover this round, though he was supposed to be at the depot. So I thought, well, I wouldnt be depriving anyone of a job there, then! And I asked him what you had to do to apply
And you had your "interview" with Perkins, right?! And the maths test ...?
Did you have to do that, too?!
Too right! 100%, me!
Beats my 92, then!
92?! Theyll be rewriting the exam, to make it harder, if they get any more like you and me!
We laughed together, as I pulled up to the first of the two apartment blocks, before the council estate. We were making good time, so I suggested we take a short breather, and offered Chris half of my Mars Bar. He took a bite, and I explained about the returns, as I opened a couple of bottles for us.
I always bring a snack like this: keeps me going until breakfast. Have you been to the Egremont Caf? Dont think so
Youve got a treat in store, then. Still, I like my Mars and milk, especially when its a day like today.
People were beginning to move, by now: children off to school, cars warming up and pulling out from ahead of us, clearing the streets a bit, making it slightly easier to get on with our work, without blocking the narrower streets. Breakfast smells, accentuating my appetite; housewives taking the milk off the doorsteps, or straight from us, with a smile and cheery "Mornin!" A good point for us to take a short break.
So. Not a bad job, really, if you can stick the "unsocial hours". No good for a family man, or if you value your night life. Still, I suppose its no worse than being on night shifts, if you have got a wife and kids, I dont know. Anyway, they dont seem to complain all that much glad to have a job, and the moneys no worse than lots of jobs.
Do you ever get, you know, comments about your having a degree ..?
Funny enough, only the other day some woman on one of the Rottingdean rounds asked me what my "real" work was! I suppose she picked up on my accent not being exactly Brighton, or maybe it was something I said, I dont know, but she said something like, "Is this a summer job, for you?" and I said no, and she wouldnt have it! Asked if Id got 0 levels being nosey, you know, so I just said, "Yes, and a Cambridge degree in maths, nall!" Should have seen her face! When she realised I wasnt having her on, she goes, "So this isnt your real job!" like shed made her point. So I just said, "I enjoy being a milkman, actually," and said good morning. Left her looking puzzled, on the door step!
I suppose you get given cups of tea, in the winter, and so on ... chance to have a chat, get to know some of your customers
Oh, in the winter, yes, youre only too glad to get invited in for a tea and biscuit! Must admit, I usually like to get on with it, get finished ... but in the winter, your fingers freeze, and you can get pretty fed up! Being a milkman is really two jobs: winter and summer. Youll look back on these summer mornings, in January, if you stick it that long, and think it was a dream!
Suppose so. Do you wear gloves ...?
Better not to, if you can help it, so as not to have the bottles slip out of your hands. But my mother knitted me a pair of those, you know, milkmans gloves, with no finger tips, so you can still manage, like that
And is it true what they say about milkmen, then?!
What, you mean
You know ... the lonely housewives ... that sort of thing