Prologue

“Excuse me, can you show me where the beans are?”
Jackie Taylor placed the box she was carrying back onto her stocking trolley and turned around to beam at the customer. “Of course, sir. It's just this way.”
Jackie led the man down the maze of aisles, past pizzas, booze, and breakfast cereal, glowing like a beacon in her Freshfields bright yellow polo shirt. Reaching the aisle in question, she directed the customer towards a row of shelves packed to the rafters with baked beans, holding out a hand as if presenting the world cup.
“Here you are, sir,” she said with another radiant smile. “Is there anything else I can help with?” The question rolled off the tongue fluidly. 
“No, that's okay,” said the customer, dropping a multi-pack into his trolley and setting off without so much as a thank you or goodbye.
“Have a nice day!” 
Jackie sighed with relief. The last thing she needed to be doing was ferrying the customer around on a personal shopping spree. With haste in her step, she headed back towards her stocking trolley when, around half way there, her stocking scanner buzzed in her hand. 

Pork ribs require immediate restock.

Jackie held back several curse words and exhaled sharply. “I only restocked them an hour ago,” she muttered to herself. “Who on earth has bought twenty pork ribs?”
Gritting her teeth, she set off, in quick step, towards the warehouse, careful to avoid any customers who anxiously attempted to make eye contact. She couldn't risk another interruption now.  
Reaching the warehouse, the jaunty tunes of the shop floor subsided. Beyond the customer experience was a dull, monotonous place, devoid of the bright lights that dazzled from above, and the bustle of people going about their weekly shop. Instead, shop colleagues worked in silence, hefting boxes of all sizes onto stocking trolleys, all instructed by the guiding hand of their scanners. 

Pork ribs require immediate restock.

“Alright!” Jackie bellowed at the device in her hand. “I'm doing it!”
Paul Stevens looked up from his trolley, but his eyes quickly turned back to his work, his brow strained from holding back his curiosity. Jackie felt a stab of guilt — it was wrong of her to have interrupted him. 
Power walking at a rate of knots, Jackie dipped under airplane ladders, slipped past top-stockers and cardboard bins, until she reached the fresh meat fridge. With a grunt, she slid open the lever that unlocked the sliding door, and was met with a blast of arctic air. A row of dangling plastic flaps barred her way — the company's attempt to keep the cold air in and further cut down on costs.
That's all they do these days, thought Jackie.
Entering the walk-in icebox, Jackie marched over to the stacked trays that contained the pork ribs. Lifting one of the packages out, she scanned the barcode on the back with her device. 

Pork ribs do not require restock.

Jackie's stomach somersaulted. “What? What do you mean?”
She checked her scanner: 126 units in stock. They hadn't sold any since she last stocked them…
Panic started to overwhelm her. The detour with the customer, then to here, had taken almost five minutes! Her SPIMS score would plummet if she didn't get back to her trolley soon. Jackie turned back to the door and ran for the exit. 
The door to the fridge slid shut. 
Jackie's heart raced like a greyhound. Her hands dived for the internal lever, pulling frantically to get out. 
The lever didn't budge. 
Jackie started to hyperventilate. She hated confined spaces at the best of times. Banging at the door, she screamed for a colleague passing by to let her out, but knew all too well no one would hear her. The door was designed to be thick to keep in the cold — all to keep costs down.
Jackie slammed her fist against the door as hard as she could, yelling until her throat became hoarse. Little did she know she would never be seen again.

Next Aisle: Chapter 1