One of the best days of my life was, surprisingly, when I worked in a sticky big chain cinema for £5 an hour as a student.
One morning I opened up to discover that whoever had closed down the Ben & Jerry’s stand the night before had accidentally switched off the freezer. The ice-cream was perfectly fine but legally, as it had not been kept to a certain temperature overnight, we couldn’t sell it. Struck by a rare moment of genius, I realised, while I absolutely did have to dispose of 30 litres of Vermont’s finest, there was no reason I couldn’t wait until the end of my shift to take it all out to the big bins round the back. Shortly after clocking out – and followed by a spot of dumpster diving – I arrived home cold but a hero to my housemate. We dined like kings for weeks, eating Chunky Monkey for breakfast, dinner and tea.
