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🔴 7 YEARS IN A WAREHOUSE AND I'M STILL RUNNING IN CIRCLES 🔴 My name is Oliver Bennet. I'm 36. I live in Birmingham, Small Heath area. Seven years I've been working in an Asda warehouse. The warehouse is huge, like a hangar. It smells of cardboard, dust and sweat. My shift starts at 4am. Ends at 2pm. I pick orders. Walk with a trolley down the aisles. Take products off the shelves and put them in boxes. One order. Then a second. Then the hundredth. In one shift I walk 20 kilometres. My knees hurt. My back hurts. My right hand went numb two years ago — the doctors said "carpal tunnel syndrome". I wear a brace. I keep working. £12.40 an hour. After tax — about £1,900 a month. Sounds okay? It's not. Rent for a two-bedroom flat — £780. The three of us live there. Me, my wife Clare and our son Luke. He's seven. He's in Year 2. Bills: gas, electric, water — about £150 in winter. Bus and sometimes a taxi for Luke — £90. Food — £350. I barely eat meat. It's expensive. Clothes — £40. Charity shops. Phone and internet — £55. Subscriptions — £15. Just Netflix and that's it. Left over: about £420. It feels like £420 is money. It's not. Because £420 covers everything I forgot. And everything that will happen tomorrow. And tomorrow always happens. Last year the washing machine broke. We couldn't buy a new one for three months. We washed by hand in the bath. Then we got one on credit. Another £280 of debt. Before Christmas Luke's teeth started hurting. Private dentist — £120. They don't do payment plans. The debts piled up. Like a snowball. First it was £400 on the credit card. Then £600. Then £1,200. Now I owe £3,400. That's not including rent. I pay the rent on time. Almost always. Clare works as a cleaner in an office. Three times a week in the evenings. She comes home at 11pm, falls on the sofa and falls asleep. We barely talk. Not because we don't love each other. Because we have no energy. I look at her and think: "How did we end up like this?" Every month
