Warehouse mystery

Warehouse mysteries

&

The haunted forklift

1985

Song:- Road to Nowhere

Artist:- Talking Heads

Song:-There Must Be an Angel

Artist:-Eurythmics

Song:-Shout

Artist:-Tears for Fears

MOVING ON

I had no time to dwell on the

demise of my unremarkable market stall, which was in reality a cry for help,

and on reflection a subconscious last resort to salvage my relationship with my first love,

since my frozen food adventure came to such a dramatic sudden end,

being let go, so suddenly, as I was deemed to be too old at the age of twenty, (there was plenty of slave labour coming up the rear from a new batch of school leavers) also I would like to take this time to say that I would take umbrage with anyone who suggested I was let go due to the fact I was selling off, racks of frozen meat cheaply to my ex little hitler boss, Scouse paul, who had branched off on his own and opened up a butchers stall, and yes I was appalled when I realised he was selling it at a far higher price then he had mentioned when negotiating our deal,

touting it as high end quality fresh meat, the little bastard, he cut me out of a high pay day there,

so anyway my frozen days were numbered and the freezers and I parted ways, and out of sheer panic of having no job, but having a lovely fiancée who I shared our lovely three bed semi (with a big mortgage mind you) I put in a tender for a market stall of my own, and the only way to achieve a winning bid was to put in a higher bid than anyone else, thus saving everything I lived for at that moment in time,

Obviously I was successful in the tender with a fucking stupidly high bid, and although it all looked rosey from the outside, from within it was not going well at all, so a midnight flit from the market, leaving unpaid bills was required,

and a quick rethink on the job front was needed once again, before i lost everything, and with an onslaught of job applications sent out to prospective employer’s, I soon received great news,

a starting date for a subsidiary company working for lever brothers (they manufacture and supply toiletries soap bleaches etc) and the position was that of a forklift truck driver, and the only problem I could forsee in this appointment was that I could not drive, and this may at some point give the management some cause for concern, but not to worry yet, I’ll wing it,

DAY 1

I arrive for my first day on the new second hand red Vespa 50 I had purchased the week before, as there was some four to five miles between my home and the warehouse,

I did not intend to walk that distance every morning, so transport was needed, and the piece of shit I loosely called a Vespa certainly was not what I would call the best transport on the planet, as three months of fucking breakdowns would require a rethink, which I will later get too.

I meet George on my first day, at that time in my life he would be what I’d call a mature gentleman, maybe fifty years old, he was like the caretaker type doing odd jobs around the warehouse, cleaning up spillages and making up the smaller orders for export, and as luck would have it he had his very own folk lift truck,

he would be my supervisor for the foreseeable, and would be my mentor on the driving of said folk lift truck, result, unfortunately on my second day I came to the realisation that my life may well be cut short, or at least my employment may well come to an end shortly after it had begun.

I now introduce you to Karl with a K, here was an employee who had a day off on the first day of my illustrious career in the warehouse jobby thing,

I was hoping to climb the ladder in this industry, if I could get past being the odd job man’s assistant assistant, i could have gone all the way to be the golden boy of folk lift driving, or a picking champion (picking is where you go around the warehouse with a pre planned list, and fill a pallet up with lots of goodies before cling filming it to an inch of its life, ready for it to be placed on the back of a lorry) but my hopes would surely be dashed once Karl with a K, arrived back into my life

1981

THE BIG MISTAKE

Thursday night was the wirlderspool disco for under eighteens and from the age of fourteen there was a group of us that regularly attended this popular disco, and it just happened to be the only place in town that did not affiliate cider with alcohol,

it therefore was on sale as fizzy pop to the populous,

so the disco became the legitimate place for young teenagers with a drinking problem to hang out without retribution from their elders,

but on this given Thursday

I, for whatever reason (talking to girls I suspect) dropped behind the group as we were walking over the wirlderspool bridge, only by a couple of hundred feet mind you, but that was enough, enough time and space for a very large group of older boys to surround me, well there was at least two boys and one of them look very very fucking angry,

now I could tell this by the way he had quickly grabbed me by the lapels of my tasteful white with blue speckled sports jacket, (circa nineteen fifty eight, courtesy of my dad)

and for reasons I would shortly discover, he was trying to and failing miserably to hang me over the bridge,

I couldn’t quite understand all of what he was shouting into my face but I sure could taste the spittle he was exuding, and smell his rank breath, but there was one word I did hear clear as day, which gave this unprovoked attack some meaning, the word girlfriend echoed around my ears, and with rapid realisation I came to the conclusion I may have had some sort of dalliance with this poor tormented boys girlfriend, which I could not truly disqualify as fiction,

all this went through my head in the blink of an eye, and I quickly realised I had to come up with a plan to save myself from a severe beating at best, or

death from a great height at worst,

as my brain was working overtime, and my body was getting moist with all the fluids it was discharging, a miracle occurs, out of nowhere

a voice shouts out,

you ok Tid ( A knick name given to me at nursery) with this the boy let’s go of me and turns to look in the direction from where the voice came, and he saw what I saw, Tony,

(Tony is an aquantaince of mine who lives on the same street of many of the friends I hang out with, Tony is also over 6ft tall built like a brick shit house, and had several friends with him) now just the sight of this group of big boys in front of him was enough for him and his mate to have a change of heart, so instead of a beating, this lad put an arm around my neck like we were old buddies, and whispered into my ear, he said, listen Tid Taylor, my name is Karl, with a K, and I know what you and tray ( his girlfriend apparently) got up to, so watch your back, I’m coming for you,

I never went back to Wirlderspool disco after that week, and I certainly had no recollection who tray was, but that doesn’t mean that I am truly innocent, woodpecker cider can have adverse effects on one so young,

and anyway it was time to move on to pastures new, so I started drinking in a grown ups pub, the borough arms with a much safer clientele to boot,

I never did run into Karl with a K again, well not in my teens anyhow.

1985

KARL WITH A K

Day 2

It almost looked like I just sauntered into work without a care in the world almost twenty minutes late, but the truth was i was sweating my tits off underneath my clothing, and my out side layers were saturated, the reason being

I had just pushed my cheap red Vespa 50 for the last mile of my journey, into my second day of work,and if you can believe it, in a fucking thunderstorm, which had decided to appear overhead as my very unreliable Vespa had decided once again to fucking take a break,

It was seven fifty am, and I was not in a jovial mood,

as I entered the warehouse yard, there was applause from the night and morning shift, which left a ringing in my ears, and with that my mood took a distinct turn for the worse,

I let the Vespa drop onto its side and turned to walk away, with my shoulders slumped and head down, when a shout from old George got my attention, i trundled over to where he was stationed, and as my eyes focused on his companion, I stopped breathing for what seemed like an eternity, but infact was only a second, George introduced me to his assistant, who I would be working alongside for awhile, “this is Karl” says George and I on instinct stretch out my hand to shake his, Karl smiled and shakes my hand before pulling me close and putting his arm around my shoulder as though we were old buddies, Christ I thought, Karl with a K was gonna make an appearance, but he doesn’t,

four years had past since we last met in unfortunate circumstances,

and Karl without a k was a totally different man from the boy he once was, he explained that tray was along time gone, and as for me, a dance with his girlfriend should never have developed into a potential beating, he explained that she had never really been fateful in the six weeks they were actually together, ( fuck me I wouldn’t have acquired the girls second name in six weeks) but we had a laugh about it, and became firm friends for a couple of months,

that was until I was moved on to shift work with one of the three crews that were working there, now this was the big test for me,

this new work challenge involved loading large lorries, cherry picking on industrial sized folk lift machines, working with a team that has quoters and deadlines to meet

so a lot to think about and a lot of fucking driving for one who finds it hard to start up a red Vespa,

so the question I had to ask myself, did I have the balls for it

NEW BEGINNINGS

SAME OLD SHIT

Day 1 - 7, late shift

I met Richie almost immediately after arriving at the loading bay to start my training, I was partnered with Richard carter, and I recognised him from one of the shift crew’s but had never spoken to him,

he was easily recognisable as he had a head of hair so black unkempt and wavy, it was hard to miss him as he sticks out like a dogs bollocks

incidentally he also drove a big fuck off American car and lived not ten minutes from my house, interesting.

Richie and I soon became firm friends, he became my mentor at work , and I soon became a prolific folk lifter, we socialised outside of work occasionally, and more importantly I had a great ride to and from work everyday,

Day one past without a glitch, although I must admit I found it rather strange starting work in the middle of the afternoon and not leaving work until i should of been in fucking bed with my fiancée, but all in all the first week was pretty good,

there were a few oddballs on our shift team,

the foreman for instance had a daily routine when we broke for our dinner break,

his name was big Jim, and I heard the name came about because of the size of his girth, of course it did,

but for me I thought it was probably due also to the size of the weird and wonderful meals he ate on the evening break, cold beans from the can,

Peanut butter and sugar butties, cold burger and peanut butter on bun, cold sausages and banana combo, you get the idea, all washed down with a pint of warm milk, and once he had finished he would expect everyone to join in with a game of darts before the end of our break,

So my first week went swimmingly well, i felt I had conquered all the machinery in the warehouses, I believed that I was a master of the high reach forklift trucks, ( these were no ordinary trucks, they scaled at least one hundred feet to reach full pallets from the racks and shelving that lined the warehouse’s narrow isles, I had impressed the management team, so now it was time to climb the ladder of forklifting, oh how nieve I was back in my youth,

it was a night shift when everything went tits up for me, and as the night went on, things only got more and more strange,

the night shift started at eight pm sharp, and went on till seven am the next morning, but if you have a nightmare of a shift then this time would seem like a life sentence, and when I say nightmare, I don't just mean you were having a bad day, there was also some unexplainable events taking place In that warehouse, supernatural may be a bit of a stretch, but there was something in the air that night that I would definitely have preferred not to be around, especially as most of the shift is spent on your own down eerie dark narrow aisles stacking crates of goods on your side loading folk lift.

THE STRIKE OF MIDNIGHT

Twelve o'clock had arrived, and it was time for lunch, now remember it is midnight and your dietary needs are somewhat different at this time of night, I took to eating cereal, as heavy food tired me even more than I was at that stupid fucking time, and hallucinations tended to set in, and don't get me started about the voices and strange noises in your head, it's a wonder anyone got the job done at all, never mind get any orders correct,

anyway I had just finished loading the trailer of the last lorry that pulled into my bay twenty minutes earlier, and I was over the fucking moon and away with the cow, as I was well ahead of schedule on my loading, so an easier afternoon is on the cards, (what would you call the time after midnight? It would be strange to call it morning, wouldn't it, after you have just had lunch , even if it is technically the morning, and you have just put a shift in prior to the morning, What a conundrum? ) anyway, after lunch would be easy peasy, but of course it was not at all easy, if I had to make a guess this was the day that my hair decided to take leave of my head, alright it took another twenty years or so to finally give up the goose and fuck off, but this particular day I believe it decided to loosen up and make a plan to slowly sneak off without me noticing,

I was back on my sturdy horse ( folk lift truck) by twelve forty five am, and raring to go, I just had to go and check my last load and then get the driver to sign off on it, and this is where the fun begins, I have my check list, and I am looking at the trailer, and I'm looking at the check list, and again the trailer, and my mouth is open, and I'm dribbling, what the fuck is happening here? The list does not match the goods on the trailer, god I must have picked up the wrong list, but my signature is at the bottom of the list, the time stamp is on the list, but all the pallets on the trailer are not the ones I put on, surely this is some kind of prank, I look around quickly, there is no one sniggering behind the bike sheds, or laughing and pointing at the dick head sat there with his mouth open, no, every one seems to be going about their business as usual, for fuck sake there is only one thing for it, I'll have to empty the trailer then put the right pallets on, get the driver on his way with a pat on the head and an apology for the slight delay, then there was the little task of putting the off loaded pallets back to where they originally came from, and all this without the foreman noticing, and then try to get back to my schedule,

it's gonna be tight but I'm up for the challenge, and so I start,

I'm in and out of that fucking warehouse like a cat with its arse on fire, I am the flash, unfortunately when you are rushing you tend to make the odd mistake, which of course I did, only my mistakes cost the firm a small fortune, luckily I was cunning enough to hide my mishaps, well for this shift at least , repercussions will no doubt come later,

I finally get all the pallets back to there rightful place, and peace is now restored, and that is when I heard it, the groaning of a man down,

at the far end of a very long isle towards the back of one of the many warehouses, I heard the cry of someone in distress, and catch a fleeting look of a folk lift truck lying on its side, which was still purring as the engine had not been turned off,

I looked around for someone, anyone who would be going to this colleague's assistance, and again like before there was no one around, my mind was racing and I thought I'm fucked if I'm going down there, I've heard to many stories of sinister things happening at the back end of nowhere in this warehouse, another cry finally got to me, I had to go and help the man, didn't I? I cautiously approached the sounds of the upturned machine, I could not actually see it now, as I had to turn down the isle that ran adjacent,

Where the fuck are you man! I've just risked my life to get to you and you are not fucking here! Are you real? Are you an imaginary figment of my tired imagination, are you just a plain and simple ghost, that really don't exist? Do they? or am I just hallucinating? I just don't know, whatever is going on there is no fucker here, and I'm well behind my schedule now, so I throw in the towel, and I decide that I'm going to head back to the main entrance and confess to the foreman that I've fucked up, explain the mistakes I made and how I had put them right, but with some consequences, maybe he will take pity on me and tell me everything will be alright, then send me on my way to my bed, where I should be anyway, at this silly fucking time,

god it's lucky that my fiancée loves me so much, otherwise she might well have invite other male friends who are much more Available, to have tea when I'm on my night shift, and side line me to the history books,

THE OUTCOME

I never did confess my mishaps on that fateful night, because the very next night I was sent home unwell, and that's was the evening I found the love of my life entertaining another man, and feeding him up on my pork chops, all this is documented in another chapter, suffice to say shortly after this devastating event, my life changed, and I accidentally took another road in my life that I did not envisage,

And this started with myself getting hammered and turning up for what turned out to be my last minutes on a folk lift truck as I was subsequently sacked and turfed out of the warehouse, never to return, and this then led to some interesting adventures in Europe,