Flory Ringer, manager of Histon’s Salvation Army Care & Share shop, talks to Bridget Davidson about what goes on behind the scenes at our local charity outlet, and how its volunteers go above and beyond to keep our castoffs out of landfill.
The winter months see everyone have a good post-Christmas clear out and the Salvation Army Care & Share shop is on the receiving end of much of that activity. I have to slide my way through the narrow spaces between rails stuffed with unwanted garments and shelves stacked with bric-a-brac to meet shop manager Flory. Now 62 and living in Impington, Flory has managed the shop for 15 years, starting in 2007 when the previous manager left. Before that she was a volunteer there.
Her dedication is legendary. “Sometimes I work longer than the time I’m supposed to,” she says, and this can include volunteering on her days off, sometimes at short notice, to fill staffing gaps. I also met Ellen Sealey, former Relief Manager of the store, who came back to volunteer after she left. There must be something special about working there.
Flory says it’s all about communicating with people from all walks of life. “This is not just a shop, this is a meeting group,” she enthuses. “You can tell your story, you can socialise, you can cry, you can laugh, and there’s always somebody to listen. People come in to shop and chat.”
Seeing others find that special bargain and saving items from landfill is up there too. “People find this place like a miracle shop,” she says, with a smile. “They find the thing they’ve been looking for.” It’s got to feel good to be part of that.
I show Ellen the jacket I’m wearing and a high-end handbag, both found in the shop. “People are so generous here,” she says. I’m telling her what good quality the leather of the bag is when Celia, another dedicated volunteer, comes in and overhears our conversation.
“We’re the Harrods of Histon,” she says. It’s a name she came up with, which is apparently used frequently to describe the shop by regular buyers. With the levels of dedication and customer service on offer there, it’s impossible to disagree.
An ordinary day
With donations having flooded in since Christmas, the back room behind the shop floor is as tight for space as the shop. Floor to ceiling storage is stuffed with items and there are full plastic bags of all sizes all over the floor. I ask if I can sit down to take notes while we talk. Flory clears a pile of things off one of only two chairs I can see in the room and shoves some other stuff aside to make space on a flat surface for my notepad. I imagine it’s a table but I can’t tell, as the rest of it is covered in donations. The only other chair is occupied by Ellen, who is steadily tagging clothes with her little gun, so Flory stands.
The shop receives around 20 bags of donated goods every day. It’s open six days a week, excluding Sundays, making approximately 120 bags per week to be processed. “On an ordinary day we receive the goods and have one volunteer sorting and one volunteer pricing and hanging,” she says. “Everything has to be sorted, everything is inspected. For clothes, to see if it’s dirty or torn or marked. Nice things go into a pile [for pricing]. We do this every day.”
The sorting
The not-nice things are kept back. Clothes and textiles are re-bagged and sold for £3.50 per bag to a textile recycling company. The shop also has dealers who buy items ranging from books, CDs, DVDs and computer games to jewellery, watches, cameras, toys, coins and metals.
Even broken items can be sold on. Some donations go to auction or sell online via social media. Not much is left behind after all these efforts. Everything that is goes into large bins out the back, either for recycling or landfill. Flory says that about 3-5 bags in every 20 end up with the textile company. For bric-a-brac she estimates about 3-5% of donations are unfit for resale.
I press Flory for more detail about the work they do, thinking there must be other daily tasks as well, but no. She tells me they sort all day long. This is their day.
Items that make it onto the shop floor receive the greatest attention. “People bring in dirty stuff and staff clean it.” Ellen says. Anything grimy but still saleable is buffed up by someone in the backroom before it’s put out for sale. Although there’s no space for a washing machine, all clothes are given a once-over with a steam cleaner. Even bric-a-brac items are cleaned and homewares too. Ellen mentions dirty but serviceable saucepans as an example. They are washed by hand, by volunteers. I’m slightly incredulous, given the amount of stuff they already have to get through every day. Registering my dismay, Ellen continues, “We don’t want to do it.” The frustration is evident in her voice. Yet they do, such is their dedication.
Frustrations
Flory is still standing, so I ask her: ‘Would more space help?’ Rumours have been floating round that the shop may move into the former Barclays space on the High Street. Flory insists this is not on the cards. Even if it was, she’s not for it.
“I don’t want a bigger place, as it would still be the same problems.” Bigger space, bigger problems. It’s hard not to see her point. Yet the amount the shop does take is still not enough for some people.
The staff have to deal with stuff left at the door outside of opening hours (despite signs asking people not to). Then there are donors who won’t take no for an answer when the shop is already overflowing.
“These customers can feel angry – sometimes very angry,” says Flory, “but it’s better to deal with this than be closed down by health and safety. We don’t want to refuse but we have no space.”
The sense of entitlement from some donors is one of the biggest frustrations the team has to deal with. I ask how it feels when people dump and run.
“[It’s] Annoying! Some people leave things they know we don’t take, and use us as a dumping ground.” As soon as the back door is closed, even during the day, bags will appear. “Some people want us to chuck it for them. They think that because they are giving it to us it’s OK to do that.”
If it rains, these no doubt well-meant donations can end up getting wet, rendering them unsellable. Electrical goods are the worst. The shop can’t accept them but that doesn’t stop them being left for Care & Share to deal with.
“People know we don’t take electricals but then they leave them inside a bag,” she continues. Tucked in the depths of a bin liner volunteers can’t see these items until it’s too late. Flory then has to make sure they are disposed of correctly. So they can be sold on, if possible, she takes time out to drop them off at other charities, such as EACH on Histon Road, Cambridge or, for certain electrical goods, Emmaus, near Landbeach. Any batteries found in the offending electricals are stored up in a bag Flory points out to me, hanging on a hook just beside my head. When it’s full someone takes it to Tesco across the road to their recycling bin, as Care & Share doesn’t actively collect them.
Community support
Given the many challenges and frustrations facing this valuable community resource, what can residents who donate at Care & Share do – other than volunteering – to make life just that bit easier for the amazing team who keep the doors open?
Captain Rob Symons, Commanding Officer and Histon Corps and Divisional Candidates Officer, says: “The golden rule is check first and ask or call, email or message us ahead.
“We are very conscious that people want their items to be used by and for The Salvation Army. However, this is where they can help us by checking what we can and can’t accept first.”
For queries about donations call 01223 235840, email histon@salvationarmy.org.uk or message via Facebook. You can follow Histon Salvation Army Care & Share shop on Facebook or Instagram. For details of opening times, see https://www.salvationarmy.org.uk/histon
