Oliver: The barrowboy

Now, I'm as keen as anyone to uphold the wholesome traditions that made Britain great. I do tend to draw the line at vulgarities such as slavery, though.

I also draw the line at making little girls sell matches and flowers on the street, or making little boys scavenge loose cotton from beneath looms or sending them up chimneys. Who can forget those engravings of children as young as nine (as long ago as 1833 - yes, 1833 - the Whigs sought to outlaw the employment of children under nine) toiling underground pushing carts of coal from the face?

In his drive to revive Britain's glory days, GSM's great overseer, Barmy, brought back to us the sight of tiny children straining against burdens far bigger than themselves.

Who can forget seven-year-old Dodger manfully pushing trolleys laden with traders' goods to and from storage? Who can forget them toppling over on the bends while Dodger manfully struggled to keep them upright? Who can forget the tears on the poor kid's face when a trader forgot themselves and called the boy a clumsy arse for cocking-up a job he shouldn't have been doing?

Who can forget GSM turning a blind eye yet again?

Oliver: The Peacemaker

For quite a while, the proper complaints procedure has been to raise issues you may have with a fellow trader with the office first. If necessary, the manager can have a quiet, conciliatory, private word with the offending trader. A sensible, adult approach to defusing disputes before they start.

Which only works if the manager in question is also an adult...

A trader selling clothes was using stepped hanger bars which protruded from the top bar of the stall into the aisle. Another trader thought this narrowed the aisle affecting their trade and may have been a hazard to the public. They went to the office and told Barmy their concerns.

Minutes later Barmy's enforcer, the Dodger, arrived at the stall and told the trader to remove the bars immediately because Barmy "said so".

Jaws dropped.

Oliver: Thank heaven for little girls

There were so many events featuring Dodger that I nearly forgot to mention Rose. Rose was another of the market waifs and even younger than Dodger. Barmy often played with her, but didn't appoint her to the staff. Usually.

One Christmas, on a very busy day for casuals, there were only two traders remaining to be allocated. Unfortunately there was only one pitch left. As a mature market manager, the obvious thing to do would be to decide who should take the pitch based on logic, common sense, an evaluation of their goods and their contribution to the market over the past year.

Nobody was surprised, therefore, when Barmy turned to little Rose, squatted next to her, and asked her to choose which trader should get the pitch - and who should lose a day's earnings.

Naturally, her choice prevailed.

Oliver: Reviewing the Situation

Everyone was familiar with the Dodger and his clipboard. Incurring Dodger's displeasure was something you would try hard to avoid, even if it meant treating the wee tyke as though he actually was a figure of authority. There was good reason for treating him that way - he reported back to his master.

An anonymous commenter shared their experience with us:-

When working on the market about a year ago, I came under the scrutiny of the young Dodger. He popped up in front of my stall when I was still setting up. With clip board in hand he cast his eye over my stall & uttered "rubbish", then ticked a box on his board. When I asked him what he was up to, he said that barny asked him to go round & see which stalls were good & which were rubbish. Later he came back to tell me that I should put up my company name sign. At the time I just laughed it off. I'm sure this kid was having great fun doing Barny's bidding, but this should not be, as the market can be a dangerous place for an unaccompanied six year old.

Your eyes did not deceive you. Traders' displays were being critiqued by someone whose cultural horizons were defined by Spongebob, Lego and cheese string, and whose ideal retail experience was Toys R Us. And Dodger was copying him.

Oliver's choice

O happy day. You're a casual trader. It's coming up to Christmas and there just aren't enough pitches to go round. You're one of a few traders left at the end of allocation. You're not too worried about getting a pitch though. You've been coming to the market most days all year round. Loyalty has it's reward and you're sure Barmy will pick you.

Wait... What's this? Barmy's got young Dodger with him. Ah, it's alright. He's obviously brought the young spud along to show him how a professional market manager operates. Here we go - the moment of choice.

Barmy bends down to little Dodger, indicates you and your fellows, and asks the lad to choose who should stay and who should go. Dodger points at one trader, then another, then another. But not you. You're not one of the favoured. You're going home.

Oliver: a responsible adult speaks

I'm still shocked by a trader's visit to the market on Sunday to circulate a letter naming their child and family as the subject of my posts. I have been sent a copy of the note, but I don't intend to publish it as I have no wish to compound the harm it has already done. (I am grateful for the publicity though - the blog had more visitors yesterday than at any time since it started.)

Rather than address the note's authors, I'll address myself to the Dodger's parents, who, like the boy himself, I am not prepared to identify by name. I firmly believe they would be right to be angry with anyone who might name their child openly and therefore reveal their identity publicly, in a blog or a note. The lad is innocent and shouldn't be named to anyone who doesn't know who he is. I am a responsible adult and his identity is safe with me.

I also think the parents are right to be angry with whoever thought it was a good idea to expose this child to risk and them to ridicule in the first place. That Dodger was used as some sort of unofficial, unpaid assistant manager is outrageous and I am quite sure the boy's parents were blissfully unaware of this. I do not doubt that they had no idea he was being encouraged to collect rent, carry cash, vet traders and disrespect adults. I am confident they didn't know about the traders who left the office carrying receipts adorned with their son's childish doodles. I wouldn't question that they had no knowledge of their "friends" being afraid to refuse giving their son a tip, especially when he asked for one.

I'm sure of all this because I cannot conceive of any parent who, being aware of these things, would allow them to continue for a moment. I'm convinced that they would not have wanted their fellow traders, with whom they enjoyed much banter and laughter, to be fearful of attracting their son's displeasure, resulting in the real management's unwelcome attention. They would no doubt have admonished those responsible for encouraging their lad to play a game of "managers and traders".

What has been posted in this blog and reaffirmed here must have been news to them, and I envy them. In their blissful ignorance they were almost unique. A great many people in the market did know about these events. Many were affected by them. Everyone involved, including traders and GSM's staff, must have known these things were wrong, but did nothing to stop them, such was the climate of oppression.

If my little blog has helped alert Dodger's parents to the way their son was used, I am happy, and I hope they will actively pursue those who misused him and alienated so many potential friends.

In case Dodger's parents haven't been paying attention, this blog isn't directed against them - it isn't anti-anyone. Really. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but that's true. What it is, however, is pro-trader. Of his parents I ask: can you honestly say that you never felt bullied, intimidated, disrespected or ill-used? You and almost every other trader - hence the blog.

Let me be clear. I don't write about these things to upset a child. Nor to disturb blinkered parents. Not even to punish the management that brought the situation about and allowed it to continue. Just to stop it. These things did happen, they were wrong, they affected many traders and they must never happen again. That's why I write the Oliver posts.

As to the motives ascribed to me in the misguided trader's note, I would have thought that I'm obviously not engaged in a quest for attention. If I was, haven't I kind of blown it by being anonymous? I'm not the message, just the messenger - so don't waste your bullets on me.

Oliver: What the f***?

I've been reliably informed that someone's been walking around the market openly naming the Dodger - in writing.

I'm very upset about this. As I said in my first post in the Oliver strand, "Oliver Twisted":

"What happened was not the children's fault and I am not using their real names. I shall call the boy Dodger and the girl Rose."

I've never deviated from this, as I take the view that those who witnessed the events knew who was involved, and those who didn't don't need to know, so I'm rather shocked.

To all who have commented and emailed on this issue, my thanks. However I don't want to go off half-cocked and criticise anyone without being in possession of the full facts, so I'm holding your remarks back and delaying my own comments for now. Can someone please email me a copy of said note so I can see what's going on.

Oliver: I'd Do Anything

First let me say I know this sounds far-fetched. If I hadn't seen this myself I would be highly sceptical on hearing it third-hand. It's true.

Imagine you're Barmy. Allocating pitches took you the usual exhausting hour or two. You've had a hard day in the market office with Dodger raking in the rents. Dealing with all those pesky traders moaning about the toilets backing up, about the power going off for the tenth time today and about their stock being nicked from storage again is wearing you down. You're tired of traders still not getting the priority system, no matter how many times you explain it. Now you have to trudge around to visit all the traders who haven't brought their rent in yet. No, wait. There is an alternative.

It's no good. I just can't think like Barmy. What in the name of whatever he believes in possessed him to delegate this job to the boy Dodger. Barmy sat in the office while he sent a child, someone else's child at that, out into the market to collect rents, an act so mind-bogglingly irresponsible, reckless and plain stupid that it beggars belief. What Barmy expected Dodger to do if someone wanted to take the money away I can't imagine. Perhaps I'm ill-informed and the lad was schooled in martial arts (Barmy's something of an expert, we're told) so GSMs bag of sovereigns was quite safe from the local footpads.

Nobody witnessing this could possibly have thought it right, least of all those having their rent collected. That no-one refused to pay or spoke up about this at the time (even Dodger's parents) shows what a climate of fear Barmy's regime brought about.

Oliver: As Long As He Needs Me

Thankfully, collecting rents in the market office while traders lost business was just a blip (see Oliver: rent boy?).

Most of the time Barmy operated the policy of other managers and collected the rent from the traders at their stalls. Where Barmy differed from his predecessors was in his choice of security assistance. Collecting the rent has always carried a little risk and a wise manager takes along some muscle for backup. In the past, someone like George or Anson would be on hand to look intimidating and carry the cash.

So who did Barmy choose to protect GSM's money? Step forward the fearsome Dodger. Whenever Barmy went on his rounds to collect rents, Dodger was there - moneybag at the ready. I think it was a brilliant tactic. What self-respecting armed robber would ever believe that the thick end of five grand was being held by a six-year-old?

Oliver: rent boy?

One of Barmy's subsequently aborted experiments was the gathering of rents in the office. Rather than tour the market going from stall to stall to collect rent from traders, Barmy expected them to leave their stalls unattended to go and queue outside the office waiting their turn to pay.

I'm with Barmy of course. Having to leave your nice warm office to save the peasants being obliged to desert stock and possible customers to cough up the cash is unacceptable. I doubt if the traders saw it that way, so may have been less than pleased to then wait to assist in an arithmetic lesson.

Once admitted to Barmy's sanctum, they would be faced with having to pay their fees to his rent boy. The boy Dodger would collect the rent, work out how much change to give, under Barmy's tutelage, and write a receipt.

I trust the entire market appreciated the opportunity to contribute to the lad's education.

Oliver's army

In the days of Oliver's army Barmy would seldom be found without his sidekick, Dodger. Like Dr. Evil and Mini-Me, they seemed ideal companions, spending hours sequestered together in the privacy of the market office or strolling the market aisles spreading goodwill and reassurance. As time passed and with his seventh birthday fast approaching, Dodger was given more responsibility and sent out into the market on his own.

Barmy equipped his tiny assistant manager with his own walkie-talkie on the market circuit so he could be in constant contact with his master. Sometimes seen in his official day-glo market staff tabard, it was always reassuring to know that in the event of trouble, the plucky four-footer was ready to leap into action.

Oh how safe everyone felt in those days.

Oliver Twisted

What if I told you that until recently a market manager delegated some of his duties to a boy of six to seven years of age (it went on so long he had a birthday)? What if that boy was given responsibility way beyond his years? What if the lad inspired unease in traders and staff? What if an even younger girl was given power over traders' livelihoods? Now I'd have to be making all that up, right?

What happened was not the children's fault and I am not using their real names. I shall call the boy Dodger and the girl Rose. I shall call the market manager Barmy.

All that follows in the "Oliver" posts is true.