Issue 6 2010 - TLS - Victoria University

Rough Towels
by Carolyn Sandford
At the age of fourteen, going into the city on the train by yourself to a big department store to apply
for a casual job was the thing to do.
I worked at the Buckley and Nunn Emporium. Now it’s called, David Jones. On more than one
holiday season, I was assigned to Manchester (downstairs). I spent at least two Christmas periods
working there.
Buckleys held their famous White Sale at Christmas. People came from all over the country to take
advantage of the special offers. While the floor seemed extensive, I felt I knew where most things
belonged. It was important for staff to know all about the stock. In familiarising ourselves with the
products, their prices and location, as well as any overnight changes that occurred, staff should be able
to answer any customer query.
It was a busy morning on White Sale day. With quite a few sales already processed, I felt I was really
earning my money. My desire to relax and do my own thing for forty-five minutes made a lot of sense.
Lunchtime was never spent lunching. It was a genuine pastime then, to go browsing through the LPs
in the upstairs ‘market’ of the Inn Shoppe. The time to go back always came by so swiftly. On the big
clock against the back wall it showed 12:45. I took off.
Rushing for the staff entry at the end of the laneway, I was hoping not to get caught by the floor
lady as I quickly raced to my area. All was well, so I straightened my clothes and breathed a sigh of
relief. And, as things go, without me even trying to sell, a lady walked right up, intent on making a
significant purchase. She said she came from a farm property a few hours away and never missed the
White Sale. She asked me where the towels were. I led her to towels arranged for a promotional display.
Just as I was about to inform her of their merit, she caught me with a gentle tap on the arm.
‘No! no! ‘These are no good.’
I was stunned by her comment and she noticed my dismay. In a softer voice she quietly explained how
soft towels never dry. She said they seemed to slide over your skin leaving a tacky film. The towels she
wanted were an English brand and she knew they were here.
After a walk around the display she took a package of two cream-coloured towels from underneath a
nearby shelf—the bulk of the stock was kept on shelves. The cream coloured towels were protected by
see-through plastic. She wanted to buy all of them. Turning one pack over, she opened them.
‘Feel that!’ she said. They were indeed quite rough, but also beautifully made.
In every linen cupboard that I have ever had, hidden from display, is my collection of well-worn, but
neatly folded, rough towels.
Carolyn Sandford is the VCAL Automotive Literacy teacher at VU.
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