‘It was a victory to arrive home. Ma Beeda always celebrated with a strong cup of tea.’
Beeda stood on the school veranda and watched the last pupils disappear down the road. He thought of this as the road swallowing pupils. The day’s climax, a question-and-answer session, came back to him and he heard his voice rise to fill the classroom:
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘I think there should be a National Service of Hospitality. The best way to see the true face of humanity is to serve it a plate of chips.’
Camilla Grudova on bad-mannered customers.
‘Anyone who has ever worked night shifts will understand the vertiginous feeling that comes with staring down the day from the wrong end.’
A.K. Blakemore on working nights.
‘I was constantly reading job ads, trying to find my holy grail – a job I could stand to do, and someone foolish enough to hire me.’
Sandra Newman on learning how to play professional blackjack.
‘I loved being a receptionist. What I loved about it was playing the part of being a receptionist.’
Emily Berry on being a temporary office worker.
‘Every part of you would swell, including your eyeballs, and no matter how much water you drank, you were always dehydrated.’
Junot Díaz on working for a steel mill.
‘I should warn you, she said, ketchup on her chin, on the back of her hand. I like to have sex a lot.’
Fiction by Kathy Stevens.
‘Who needs a bed? he said one night. He was drinking beer out of an old dirty pickle jar.’
New fiction by Edward Herring.
‘That smile the President has – it was just the same then as it is now.’
Fiction by Rebecca Sollom.
‘Tell me now what it is that dies, gasping for another world in my hand.’
Two poems by Lee Kathryn Hodge.
