Job Centre, Deptford, London   1 comment

 

The third “J” bar of the day, the Job Centre, was also the third [nearly] identical hipster bar in a row (following on from John the Unicorn and Jam Circus). This was easily the best of the lot, though, and I’ll let those earlier write-ups stand in for what was wrong with this place.

I sat with my beer near the kitchen’s open window so I could watch the cooks work, an old habit that serves no purpose anymore than to entertain but in the dark recesses of the past — the Olden Times — it would have either been for recruitment of staff (raiding) or to find out if this looked like a decent place to work. I still miss kitchen work because, when you are good at it, you tend to get the approval of your boss, colleagues, and even customers; no such luck in the Sciences.

 

 

Near the stairs, I spotted a wonderful machine from my even deeper past. I was a projectionist for about 6 months at a — let’s call it a cinema — money laundering operation for a low level Viet Namese crime family in the South Dekalb section of Atlanta. I was a convenient character for them to have as I was a military veteran, a white guy with a basically clean Police sheet, a holder of a Union Card that allowed me to do this sort of work, and I was beholden to them for a sum of cash due to a — let’s call it a — misunderstanding.  That was my entrance into the glamourous world of pornography.

 

 

The projectors I used at the Sunshine Cinema (the side of the twin-plex that hadn’t suffered an unexplained fire) were a pair of Simplex projectors that operated via arc lighting, burning welding rods at atmospheric pressure and about 30-40 amps current. I was constantly at the machinists’ shop having parts made to keep these 60 year olds (then; ‘twould be 90+, now) running. Eventually, we could do no more with them. Our replacement wasn’t an EX-4100, like this one, but it was an Eiki (Elf-Lite is another label for the same company), with a much brighter lamp and no need for a vent to carry soot away. The projection booth, which doubled as a bed sit for me, was much quieter and cleaner from then on (and the bong could be vented in the old snoots).

Eventually, my debts were paid off and I moved on to some bar work where there was a different class of pervert and where the constant threat of violence was so much more muted. You can fit a lot of work memories into the duration of a pint down at the Job Centre.

Here’s the map.

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Posted April 10, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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One response to “Job Centre, Deptford, London

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  1. Pingback: Old Ale Emporium, Wood Green, London | The Endless British Pub Crawl continues...

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