In a corner of the Hall of Plenty

All in all, Christmas on our side of the shop floor was quite tranquil. Well, apart from those customers that crush your enthusiasm for life in general.
'What's in the box?' is a phrase that now drives Miss Marple over the edge, after a ten minute encounter with a lady from Singapore who assumed the empty display box was a prize for shopping with us.
'Do you do any deals?' is possibly likely to fetch you a mental slap, in the form of twisted lips and a slightly raised eyebrow from Miss White.
And, if 'She who Must be Obeyed' comes thundering toward you , nostrils flared, abandon any hope of asking for samples, otherwise, quite a pleasant run up to Christmas.
Not so across the floor, where some of the more flamboyant characters dwell. Apparently the day before Christmas Eve saw battle lines drawn over a great mystery, a customer had phoned to order some products and was not best pleased with the manners of the person at the end of the telephone, so she asked for the consultants name. Calling back, with a strongly worded complaint to one of the overwrought Minions of the Overseer, the customer insisted on satisfaction.
Now here comes the mystery, the consultant who was supposed to have answered the phone was actually some distance away, on her island of box sets rallying the Christmas temps, when the order was taken. So vigorously defending herself against the accusation, she left the Minions baffled. If it was not her on Angel Island, then who could it be?
An hour, one distraught temp, a tearful Minion and lots of misdirection later, the finger of doom was pointed at the feisty figure of one consultant. We shall call her Mussolini. Yes, short, manly, lots to say for herself but can't decide which side she's on, was eventually hung out to dry from a metaphorical lamppost, when the Minions finally worked it out.
Who knows what the consequences of breaking the Consultants Code are, but New Year promises to be interesting.