Nor do we seem to have a duty manager. Or at least we don’t know who it might be.
I was quite impressed with Son’s tale of needing milk (he was always fond of it) a while back. Living in a metropolis (Edinburgh does count as one of those, I trust?) he is in the somewhat unusual situation that his corner shop is, well, one of the large supermarket chains. It is only a few minutes away from his flat and being enormous, it has done what large shops do; killed off the competition.
Hence it being his corner shop. There is no other place to get milk (or sliced bread or bananas, which apparently are the basics every shop must always stock, even if there is no lobster), unless he travels. Used to finding his preferred kind of milk occasionally unavailable, he was still pretty taken aback to find an aisle totally devoid of anything milky.
Neither the half pint or the six pint or anything else. He photographed the rows of empty shelves and went to see the duty manager. Unfortunately the staff on the information counter didn’t know who this was, so couldn’t arrange for our disgruntled milk drinker to complain to the person in charge. Nor did they know that they had no milk, or why that’s a bad thing for a large branch of …
There was plenty of black tea for Dodo and Son as they waited for the milk supply to reappear. And they don’t much care for bananas.