15October2025 Diary
Today I finally put the whole episode with Toms mother into words, hoping the act of writing will make the sting fade a little.
Tom and I first crossed paths at the little convenience shop on Oak Street, just a stones throw from his family home in Sheffield. I was there on my afternoons off from university, juggling my degree with a parttime role at the till because, at nineteen, I was determined to earn my own rent and stash a bit of cash for a short break abroad. My parents would often tell me how proud they were, seeing me pull double dutylecture halls by day, the cash register by nightso I could afford a new laptop or a weekend getaway to the Lake District. Tom, who didnt have a job of his own, always praised the good start I was making.
Our friendship slipped gradually into something more. Hed bring me a bunch of wildflowers from the garden, Id treat him to a box of chocolates from the local confectioner, and wed linger after closing, chatting over empty aisles while the shop was quiet. It felt like a small, perfect world, and it lasted about two weeks.
Then his mother, Mrs. Thompson, walked in during my evening shift, Tom trailing behind her. I hadnt noticed the quick wink Tom gave me, nor the smile we exchanged. She was a formidable woman, sharptongued and proud of her son, and she never seemed to notice the little things that made her son tick. As she approached the cash desk, the till jammed. A regular customer, Mrs. Patel, who claimed shed been shopping there a million times, burst out in a huff, accusing me of trying to cheat her out of a receipt. Youre a fraud, she snarled, looking to pin the bill on me!
Mrs. Thompson seized the moment. See, Tom, she said, her voice dripping with disdain, this is why you need to study hardso you never have to stand here listening to your mothers shopfloor drama and mumble about a broken till! The words landed like a slap in front of the whole queue, and I felt every eye in the line, some of them familiar faces from previous shifts, watching me.
I was mortified, not just because she was Toms mother, but because Id been reduced to a caricature in front of strangers. Tom pleaded with me afterwards, begging me to forgive his mother, insisting shed simply had a bad day. I wanted to believe him, but the humiliation lingered. I walked out of the shop that night and handed in my notice the next morning.
Fortunately, a contact in Bristol offered me a position at a larger supermarket chain. The pay is lower£16,800 a year instead of the £18,200 I earned herebut the hours are longer, and the atmosphere is far less hostile. Ill be moving to Bristol next month, which feels like a fresh start, far from the snide remarks of people like Mrs. Thompson.
Looking back, I realise every job, no matter how modest, has its place, especially when youre a student with limited options. Its easy to envy those who grow up with overconfident parents who see their children as destined for greatness, but life has a way of handing even a graduate a role behind a till. All that matters now is that Ive learned to stand up for myself and to seek environments where Im respected.
Emily Clarke.
