Originally Posted: Jan 31, 2012

Shirley Brahms stood in the queue at the Canteen to wait for her morning coffee. Next to her was the staff notice board, peppered with the usual requests for suggestions that the board would never read, announcements regarding open positions (the post for second assistant in Soft Furnishings had been filled weeks ago, but the advert still remained), and the occasional reminder that the social club would be having some sort of function that no one would attend, for they were all boring.
Miss Brahms sighed and took a tentative step forward when the queue finally moved. She was tempted to leave the store and go across the street to a local café that was known for its speedy barristas and delicious Cappuccinos. However, she was nearly skint after the lousy week she and Mrs Slocombe had endured. If things did not pick up soon, she was already considering finding another position at another store.
The queue moved slightly again and she found herself staring at a new advert on the board. She read a few lines and was intrigued, for it said:

Grace Brothers Department Store Seeks Lovely Lady Models
All female staff between the ages of 18 and 35 are welcome
Please see Mrs Comlosi in Cosmetics to apply
Winners will receive a free photography session and an extra five percent commission for the duration of their placement in the sales paper
Applications will be accepted until 18 April 1975; Contest ends 20 April 1975, with winners notified the same day at 5.30

Miss Brahms chewed her bottom lip. This was it! This was her chance to get some extra bob and possibly even some publicity. Everyone in the store said she was the prettiest bird around. Now was her chance to prove it – and score some lolly! She had to hurry though; it was already 17 April. Why had she not noticed this sooner?
Without bothering to get her coffee, Miss Brahms turned on her heel and went right to Cosmetics.

Lunchtime in the Canteen was its usual sombre affair that afternoon. As the staff trudged toward their usual table, laden with trays of cold toad-in-the-hole or stale cottage pie, they took no notice of the staff notice board. That is, except for Mr Lucas.
"Oi, did you see that lot about Grace Brothers wanting models?" he said to the others as they sat down.
"Where?" Mrs Slocombe asked.
"On the staff notice board," Mr Lucas replied.
"I saw it," Miss Brahms said. "They're taking applications until tomorrow. I've already applied. I could do with the lolly."
"Ooh, so could I," Mrs Slocombe mused aloud. "Perhaps I should apply as well."
"I wouldn't bother," Miss Brahms said. "It's only for female staff between eighteen and thirty-five."
"Drat!" Mrs Slocombe exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "Just missed it."
"By about twenty miles," Mr Lucas quipped.
Mrs Slocombe gave him a nasty look before tucking into her salad. To her left, Mr Humphries was trying to slice through his sausage with a very blunt knife. He gave it another good stab and the sausage won by shooting out from under his utensils and striking Captain Peacock in his face. The blonde salesman clutched his hand to his mouth and tried not to laugh.
"I'm so sorry, Captain Peacock," he said, barely suppressing his chuckles. He stood up and retrieved the rogue banger. "I'm usually quite good at handling sausages. I don't know what's come over me!"
"Quite all right, Mr Humphries," Captain Peacock sighed, wiping grease from his cheek. He still shot him a rather dirty look as he subtly shifted his chair over a few inches. Mr Humphries still noticed this and rolled his eyes as he went to fetch a fresh sausage from the queue. Captain Peacock glanced down the table and decided to switch the subject back to the modelling contest by asking, "Do you know how many girls have applied so far, Miss Brahms?"
"Not a Scooby," she replied.
"Well, do you know who will be judging the contest?" he pressed her further.
"No idea," she said with a shrug. "All I know is several of the lads in Soft Furnishings whistled as I walked back to the lift. I figure they think I 'ave a good shot at it."
"Damn right you do," Mr Lucas told her confidently. "You're the best-looking bird in the store! If you don't get it, why I'll…I'll…"
"Go to speech therapy for stuttering?" Mrs Slocombe teased him.
Mr Lucas bristled at her, then said, "If Miss Brahms doesn't get it, I'll...I'll kiss Mr Humphries - on the mouth!"
Mr Humphries returned to the table just as Mr Lucas made his declaration and became wide-eyed. He started to speak, closed his mouth, then opened it again. Words failed him once more and he decided to shovel some potatoes into his mouth instead to keep it busy.
At five-thirty on the 20th of April, Miss Brahms began covering the counters and went to grab her things. By the time she returned to the floor there was still no sign of Mrs Comlosi or anyone else to announce the results of the contest. With a sigh, she began trudging toward the lift.
"Hang on, Shirley," Mr Lucas said, stopping her at the bottom of the stairs. "Wait a couple minutes. They've got an entire store to go over, so it might take a bit before you know for sure."
"D'you really think so, James?" she asked, a bit pitifully.
"I know so," he replied. "I hope so, too, otherwise I'll have to..."
Mr Humphries walked by at that very moment and immediately skirted around them by an extra metre on his way to the lift, giving them a quick "See you tomorrow!" over his shoulder. As soon as he reached the third stair Mr Rumbold came strolling from his office with some papers in his hand.
"Ah, Miss Brahms," he beamed at her. "Just the person I want to see. Is everyone still here?"
"I was just about to dash off, but I'll stick around for a moment," Mr Humphries said, stepping down to join them.
"I believe you've caught us all," Captain Peacock said, glancing around the floor. Then his brow furrowed. "Where's Mr Grainger?"
Mr Lucas shrugged and Mr Humphries walked over to the counter. He rolled his eyes when he saw that a large lump was sitting in Mr Grainger's chair, covered with a dust cloth. He whipped it off and found the elderly salesman kipping with his head leaning on the cabinet. Mr Humphries shot a dirty look at Mr Lucas, who had come over to have a look as well. Then the blonde salesman cleared his throat.
"Mr Grainger, are you free?" he trilled delicately.
Mr Grainger snapped awake and jumped up. "Y-yes, I'm free!" he exclaimed.
"Time to go home," Mr Humphries said, and handed him his hat, coat, and brolly.
"Oh, th-thank you, Mr Humphries," Mr Grainger said with a smile. "Mrs Grainger would not be happy if I was late again. The last time I came home late she let dinner burn. Y-you see, she times our meals so that when she hears my key in the lock she knows to take everything out of the oven. If I'm late she'll leave it in there at regulo three until it starts to smoke."
"Well, I don't think a few minutes will hurt it," Mr Humphries said, leading the geriatric salesmen over to the group. "Mr Rumbold has an announcement for us, you see."
"It'd better be good," Mr Grainger grumbled. "Mrs Grainger's making spaghetti Bolognese and I don't feel like scraping burnt sauce from the bottom of the pan."
"Ah, there you are, Mr Grainger," Mr Rumbold said, bouncing on his heels. "Well, now that we are all gathered, I have some very exciting news!" He held up the papers for everyone to see. "I have here in my hands the list of winners for Grace Brothers' modelling contest. And our own Shirley Brahms has been selected!"
Miss Brahms let out a squeal of joy and hugged Mrs Slocombe. Mr Lucas and Mr Humphries both breathed a sigh of relief while Captain Peacock and Mr Grainger beamed at the junior assistant.
"Well done, Miss Brahms," Captain Peacock congratulated her.
"Y-yes, well done," Mr Grainger agreed. "You're such a pretty little thing, it was only to be expected."
"I told you," Mr Lucas grinned. "Cor blimey! We've got a star working with us!"
"Oh no," Miss Brahms giggled. "I'm not a big-time model. Not yet, anyway."
"Ooh, just think of all the fun you're gonna have!" Mrs Slocombe tittered. "All that glamour and bright lights and flashing cameras..."
"You make it sound like she's going to be followed by The Sun," Mr Humphries said.
"Well, here is the paperwork you need to fill out," Mr Rumbold said, handing her a thick stack of sheets. "It's just the usual legal documentation stating that you'll perform so many photo shoots, stay with the company for so many months, and releasing Grace Brothers from responsibility if you're injured on the job."
"How's she gonna be injured on the job while modelling knickers?" Mrs Slocombe asked, a curious look on her face.
"You never know," Mr Lucas shrugged. "One day she might be putting on a pair of Nifty Nicky's Naughty Knickers without realising the elastic's faulty. Just as Mrs Slocombe gets the word that they're recalled, Miss Brahms will be snapping them against her hips. The elastic will break and a piece of it will fly up and strike her face, taking out her eye. From then on she'll have to wear an eye patch. No one will want her to model knickers or anything else any more. Even regular customers will steer clear of her. Eventually she'll leave Grace Brothers, distraught, depressed, and disillusioned by life. And all because she signed that waiver, indemnifying Grace Brothers from responsibility for her injury."
"Are you done yet?" Miss Brahms snapped.
Mr Lucas gave her a cheeky grin.

The sales paper came out a week later and sure enough, Miss Brahms was on the front page with two other girls from Haberdashery and Bedding who had also won the contest. Mr Lucas and Mr Humphries were caught flipping through it several times, with the junior giggling excitedly. Mr Humphries would giggle as well, but for different reasons.
"Lookit her!" Mr Lucas squealed. "In three pages she's sported knickers, showed off gardening supplies, and even made a lawn mower look sexy."
"Oh, I do like those fishnet rights Miss Wallace has on," Mr Humphries grinned.
"On her legs or yours?" Mr Lucas asked.
Mr Humphries batted his eyelashes and turned the page. "Would you look at that! They've got Kitty Krunchies on sale for tuppence a can! I'll have to get some for Agnes. She does love tuna and liver flavour."
"Mr Humphries, Mr Lucas," Captain Peacock groaned, "how many times have I told you both to put the sales paper away until your coffee break or lunch?"
"So sorry, Captain Peacock," Mr Humphries said, folding the paper and tucking it away. "We're just so proud of our co-worker, aren't we, Mr Lucas?"
"Bursting with pride," Mr Lucas agreed, nodding vigorously. "Coming out of the seams!"
Mr Humphries glanced down and shook slightly with laughter. "Although I believe Mr Lucas might be about to burst elsewhere with more than pride."
Mr Lucas shot a fearful look at his superior, then moved back a few inches. This, too, caught Mr Humphries attention and he rolled his eyes.
"Well, I must admit, I too have been sneaking glimpses of our Miss Brahms when things are quiet," Captain Peacock said, and took his own sales paper from his pocket. "She does have a knack for making even the most mundane objects appear attractive."
"You think that's good," Mr Lucas said, gesturing toward the lawn mowers, "have a look at page four."
Captain Peacock flipped through and his eyebrows shot up. "Oh my," he muttered. "Who knew that towels could be so...interesting..."
Mr Humphries peered at the advert as well and snorted, "You wouldn't catch me flogging those towels. Spots are so last year."

Sales went up that week and young Mr Grace actually kept his word, giving the young assistant an extra five percent commission. She was thrilled to be able to catch up on all her debts and even had enough money left over to buy some new shoes for work (from Lally and Willets, mind you). At her next photo session she began to garner even more attention from the male staff, who would clamour over her with such fervent admiration that in one week she received three dozen roses, four boxes of assorted chocolates, two handbags (also from Lally and Willets), and fifteen proposals (not one of them were for marriage, either!)
"Lookit her," Mrs Slocombe snorted one afternoon in the Canteen as three young men escorted her through the queue, all hoping she would accept their invitations for the social club's dance that weekend. "Strutting about like that. Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, you know."
"So is Gluttony," Mr Lucas said, nodding toward her heavy helping of trifle.
Mrs Slocombe shot him a very nasty look as Mr Humphries chimed in, "Don't forget Envy."
Mrs Slocombe whipped around. "Don't you start as well!"
"I'm only being fair," he retorted. "And it is one of the cardinal sins, dear. Lust, Gluttony, Avarice, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride. You're just as guilty as she is!"
Mrs Slocombe looked very hurt and turned her attention to her trifle. She started to take a bite, then pushed it away and rested her chin on her hand. She sniffled and cast another longing look at Miss Brahms, who had finally broke free of her admirers and was on her way to the staff's table.
"Blimey!" she puffed. "If I'd known being a model would be this much work I think I'd've stayed behind my counter."
"Hey Shirley," Mr Lucas said, scooting his chair closer, "how would you like to go with me to the pictures tonight? Monty Python and the Holy Grail's showing down at the cinema tonight."
Miss Brahms patted his arm sympathetically and tutted. "You're very sweet, but I'm already goin' out with Peter Lewis from Haberdashery tonight at seven, then Mark Jones from Soft Furnishings at nine."
"What about tomorrow?" Mr Lucas asked hopefully.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'm seeing Freddy Irving from Bedding right after work an' then Travis Walker from the second-'and book shop is picking me up at eight."
"Hang on a minute," Mrs Slocombe interrupted. "We were supposed to meet up at the pub tomorrow night at seven for ladies' night."
Miss Brahms chewed her fingernail, trying to think. "Oh…oh, that's right. Well, I'm afraid I'll 'ave to cancel."
"I suppose you're also cancelling our dinner Sunday night," Mrs Slocombe snapped.
"Ooh, I forgot about that as well," Miss Brahms said. "I promised Davey Longbottom that I'd go with 'im to the park."
"And what about our little date?" Mr Humphries piped up.
At that point everyone at the table turned to stare at Mr Humphries, then at Miss Brahms. Their gazes shifted from one to the other in harmony until Miss Brahms said, "I'm sorry, Mr Humphries. I forgot!"
"So, I'm right in assuming I'll be going to my cousin's wedding on Saturday alone, then?" he sniffled.
"I'm really sorry, Chuck," she apologised.
"Oh don't worry about me," Mr Humphries sobbed, clutching his handkerchief to his face. "I'll just go ask Miss Adams if she'll accompany me!"
"You mean that bird from Accounts what looks like an eighteen year old boy?" Mr Lucas interjected.
"The very one," Mr Humphries said, standing up so quickly that he overturned his chair. He righted it, then glared at Miss Brahms before adding, "And I'll thank you to return the corsage I bought for you."
"Somehow I can't see Miss Adams wearing a corsage," Mr Lucas said, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"No, but I will!" Mr Humphries wailed as he left the table.
Miss Brahms looked extremely awkward and chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, everyone," she said. "I've been getting all this attention lately an' I'm not used to it. It's gone right to my 'ead, it has."
"And your thighs," Mrs Slocombe growled.
Miss Brahms ignored her comment and went on. "Look, I'll try to be more thoughtful of you lot, I really will. I mean, you did stand by me an' offer me all that encouragement when I applied for the modelling contest in the first place."
"And we stand by what we said," Captain Peacock told her firmly. "You are certainly the most lovely girl in the store and no one deserves this opportunity more than you do."
"Here, here," Mr Grainger nodded.
"Thank you," Miss Brahms smiled sweetly.

continued...