Could you hack working in a running shop? Martyn Brunt reports
Can Brunty manage a part-time job in a running shop? His wife has pointed out some good reasons why not...
Recently, my local running shop advertised for someone to come and work for them on a Saturday. My first thought was whether this might be an opportunity for one of my younger relatives who is looking to offset the crippling modern-day costs of going out for a few drinks, with a bit of extra income.
The owners of the shop are friends of mine, so I spoke to them about what sort of person they were looking for, and they said that they wanted someone who was a bit more mature who would bring a bit of running experience with them. This put the kibosh on it being a job for my niece, which is probably for the best because she isn’t much interested in running…
The thought did briefly flash across my mind though about whether this might be something I could do – not that I’m looking for a Saturday job mind you, I had plenty of those back when I was a student myself, including (but not limited to) paperboy, building site labourer, taxi washer, and target in a circus knife throwing act.
I did however mention my brief thought about working in the shop to my wife, which provoked a reaction which surprised even me. I was prepared for derision, hostility, and mockery, but I didn’t expect 10 minutes of hysterical laughter.
Once she’d recovered enough to answer why this idea was so funny, she gave the following reasons:
- A complete inability to look even vaguely interested when people talk about their training plans or athletic goals.
- Deliberately wearing an Ironman t-shirt behind the counter to intimidate customers, and if asked about it, faking modesty and pretending it was just an accidental shirt choice because “it was on top of the t-shirt pile”.
- Further intimidating customers by having a naturally unapproachable demeanour and a standard facial grimace that has a mouth sealed tighter than a Pharoah’s tomb.
- A low boredom/high mischief threshold which, during quiet times in the shop, would lead to all sorts of elaborate and tiresome practical jokes, like swapping shoes in boxes so that other staff keep opening boxes with different coloured trainers in them, or two left shoes, or with the laces tied together in an intricate knot.
- A propensity to disappear off to make a cup of tea just when the work is busiest.
- A low tolerance for people who ask unnecessarily detailed or glaringly obvious questions about the piece of kit they are considering buying e.g. “What’s the difference between single skin and twin skin socks?”
- A bad habit of undermining people’s athletic aspirations by telling them after they have asked some question about the benefits of carbon soles for example, that “you don’t need to spend that much on high-end shoes, these will be good enough for a runner of your pace.”
- A glazed expression when people start talking about their PBs, and a total failure to make any kind of approving noise or impressed face if those PBs are slower than mine.
- In response to someone saying how hard a run event they had just done is, a habit of saying things like: “Yes I’ve run there, but only after a swim and bike”.
- On nice, sunny mornings which are ideal for going out training, putting off potential customers from entering the shop by standing in the window looking out at everyone like a caged lion.
- A Vegas-odds likelihood that I’d spend all of the money earned from working in the shop on new kit, and indeed will probably end up owing the shop money.
What stings more than the laughter is that all of this is undeniably true, and that the inner workings of my mind are as transparent as the old bib shorts I wear at spinning class.
Still, if nothing else it has given me a greater appreciation of the people who do work in local running shops. In fact, they all deserve an award given how endlessly patient, encouraging, knowledgeable, and friendly they are to me when I go in and start droning on about the race I’ve just done, or asking questions about the best number of lace eyeholes in shoes.
Liked this article? Read more from Brunty and his tri exploits here.
Martyn Brunt
220's back-page columnist 
