The worker whose diary chronicled the slow collapse of the high-street chain describes how it all ended, with a raucous booze-up and a fruitless wait for Philip Green to get his comeuppance On 20 August, the Kent branch of BHS where I worked closed its doors, after the slow and undignified liquidation process was completed. By the time the “Last Few Days” signs went up, I could barely recall how the shopfloor had looked back when the shelves were overflowing with merchandise and I was kept busy ensuring that my section remained fully stocked and tidy. As the store began to resemble a post-apocalyptic approximation of its former self, I increasingly found myself with nothing to do but walk pointless circuits around the near-empty expanse of the ground floor. As the weeks dragged on and unemployment loomed, my thoughts would inevitably turn to our old boss, Philip Green, who by this point had taken delivery of his third yacht and was sailing aimlessly around the Greek islands, enjoying the fruits of our labours. When my shift in Tunbridge Wells ended each day, I would return home and check for the latest news online regarding Green, hoping to find some consolatory announcement that the Serious Fraud Office had uncovered evidence of wrongdoing and issued a warrant for his arrest, or perhaps that the mighty Lionheart had sprung a leak. Continue reading...
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