September 7, 2025 • 6 mins
By day, he works the night-stocking crew at a Costco, building perfect pyramids of toilet paper and handling spills on aisle seven. He’s a quiet, ordinary guy in a red vest, living a respectable, un-newsworthy life.
But he’s hiding a secret that’s almost too absurd to be believed. Due to a series of scandals, deaths, and unforeseen circumstances, he is His Grace, Arthur, Duke of Clarence… and fourteenth in the line of succession to the British throne.
This is the confession of the forgotten branch of the royal family tree. A man who was offered a life of palaces, titles, and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, but chose a life of bulk-buy discounts and rotisserie chickens instead. He gets encrypted emails from the Palace, mourned the Queen from his tiny apartment before his shift, and once had to listen to a customer complain about the monarchy without letting on that she was talking about his family.
This is the story of the most powerful person you’ll ever meet in a wholesale store.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-confession-booth--6717039/support.
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But he’s hiding a secret that’s almost too absurd to be believed. Due to a series of scandals, deaths, and unforeseen circumstances, he is His Grace, Arthur, Duke of Clarence… and fourteenth in the line of succession to the British throne.
This is the confession of the forgotten branch of the royal family tree. A man who was offered a life of palaces, titles, and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, but chose a life of bulk-buy discounts and rotisserie chickens instead. He gets encrypted emails from the Palace, mourned the Queen from his tiny apartment before his shift, and once had to listen to a customer complain about the monarchy without letting on that she was talking about his family.
This is the story of the most powerful person you’ll ever meet in a wholesale store.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-confession-booth--6717039/support.
You May also Like:
🚑MyDisasterPrepKit.com
Create Your Perfect Disaster Preparedness Kit
🤖Nudgrr.com (🗣'nudger") - Your AI Sidekick for Getting Sh*t Done
Nudgrr breaks down your biggest goals into tiny, doable steps — then nudges you to actually do them.
🎁ThePerfectGift.app
Find the Perfect Gift in Seconds
⭐SkyNearMe.com
Live map of stars & planets visible near you
✔DebtPlanner.app
Your Path to Debt-Free Living
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
All right, that's the last of the Kirkland signature organic Kingwa,
stacked and ready for the morning rush. My back is
killing me. Six pallets three hundred and twelve bags of
Kingwa per palet. That's a lot of Kingwa, enough to
feed a small principality for a year. Probably I should know.
(00:21):
My name is Arthur. To my co workers, I'm the
quiet guy on the night stocking crew, the one who's
surprisingly good at building a perfectly level display of toilet paper.
To the members who see me in my red vest,
I'm just another faceless part of the wholesale experience. To
my ex wife, I'm the guy who peaked in high school.
(00:43):
But to a handful of people in a very drafty
castle three thousand miles away, I am his grace, Arthur,
Duke of Clarence, Earl of Warwick, Baron of Tewksbury, and
fourteenth in the line of succession to the British throne. Seriously,
it's a bit of a long story. My great grandmother
(01:04):
was a minor princess, a second cousin to a king
you've probably heard of. She was a bit of a rebel,
caused a scandal, fell in love with an American jazz
musician abdicated her titles and moved to Ohio to live
a life of blissful anonymous obscurity. The press called it
a tragedy. She called it an escape. The abdication was
(01:28):
more of a gentleman's agreement. The line of succession is
a tangled, ancient thing. It's not just a list, it's
a law of parliament. You can't just cross your name off.
You have to be removed. And they never bothered. We
were the forgotten branch of the family tree, a twig
that grew out sideways. We were harmless, so we stayed
(01:51):
on the list. Growing up, it was just a weird
family joke, a story my dad would tell at parties.
After a few beers, he'd pull out the old yellowed
letters with the royal crest. We had a portrait of
my great grandmother in her tierra, hanging next to a
framed photo of my sister as soccer team. It was
(02:12):
our quirky little secret. It meant nothing. Then, about ten
years ago I got a visit a man in a
tailored suit that probably cost more than my car. He
introduced himself as the deputy Private Secretary. He had a briefcase.
Inside was a file, my file. He was very polite,
(02:34):
very British. He explained that due to a series of
unforeseen circumstances a death here, a marriage to a Catholic there,
a few people just deciding they didn't want the job,
I had moved up the list from a comical thirty
eighth to a slightly less comical fourteenth. He gave me
a choice. I could re engage. They'd set me up
(02:57):
with a trust, an apartment in Kent, a list of
acceptable charities, and a tailor. My life as I knew
it would be over. In its place would be a
life of cutting ribbons, shaking hands, and never ever having
a personal opinion again. Or I could sign the papers,
(03:18):
a very thick stack of non disclosure agreements. I would
formerly waive any claim to royal duties, decline any titles,
and in return, the Crown would pretend I didn't exist.
My only duty would be to remain quiet, live a respectable,
unnewsworthy life, and for God's sake, not cause an international incident.
(03:41):
I signed the papers. So now I work at Costco.
It's the most respectable, unnewsworthy job I could think of.
The pay is decent, the benefits are good, and no
one ever suspects that the guy scanning your forty eight
pack of paper towels is technical elligible to open Parliament.
(04:02):
It's a strange double life. I get e mails encrypted
once a month, a little newsletter from the Palace, Earth's deaths, marriages,
a list of my cousins and their official engagements. I
read about Prince William opening a community center, and then
I go clock in for my shift and build a
(04:23):
display of discounted patio furniture. Sometimes it's funny. Last week,
a lady was complaining to me about the price of
English cheddar. She went on a whole rant about the
Royal family and taxpayer money. I just nodded and said, ma'am,
I understand your frustration. We do have a lovely Wisconsin
(04:44):
sharp cheddar on Aisle four. I wanted so badly to
tell her, actually, you're helping to pay for my third
cousin's polo lessons, but I didn't. I just smiled. It's
the Royal way. Sometimes it's not so funny. When the
Queen died, that was hard. I watched the funeral on
(05:04):
my laptop in my tiny apartment before my shift. I
saw all of them, my family, distant cousins twice removed,
but family dressed in black, moaning a woman I'd met
only once as a child, at a very stiff and
awkward family reunion. She gave me a biscuit. She smelled
(05:25):
like lavender, and I felt a profound sense of loss,
a loss for a life I was technically born into,
but never lived. I went to work that night. My
manager Gary saw I was down. He put his arm
around me and said, tough day, Artie. Don't worry tomorrow.
You're on rotisserie chickens. Everyone loves chicken day, And in
(05:50):
that moment, I knew I'd made the right choice. No
one here cares about my bloodline. They care if I'm
a hard worker. They care if I cover shift when
someone's sick. My title here isn't your grace. It's Artie,
and it's a title I've earned. So yeah, I'm fourteenth
(06:10):
in line, a plane crash, a bizarre series of illnesses,
and a constitutional crisis away from being King of England.
But right now I've got a spill. On Aisle seven.
Someone dropped a jumbo jar of pickles, and that I
can assure you is a much more immediate and pressing
matter of state.
All right, that's the last of the Kirkland signature organic Kingwa,
stacked and ready for the morning rush. My back is
killing me. Six pallets three hundred and twelve bags of
Kingwa per palet. That's a lot of Kingwa, enough to
feed a small principality for a year. Probably I should know.
(00:21):
My name is Arthur. To my co workers, I'm the
quiet guy on the night stocking crew, the one who's
surprisingly good at building a perfectly level display of toilet paper.
To the members who see me in my red vest,
I'm just another faceless part of the wholesale experience. To
my ex wife, I'm the guy who peaked in high school.
(00:43):
But to a handful of people in a very drafty
castle three thousand miles away, I am his grace, Arthur,
Duke of Clarence, Earl of Warwick, Baron of Tewksbury, and
fourteenth in the line of succession to the British throne. Seriously,
it's a bit of a long story. My great grandmother
(01:04):
was a minor princess, a second cousin to a king
you've probably heard of. She was a bit of a rebel,
caused a scandal, fell in love with an American jazz
musician abdicated her titles and moved to Ohio to live
a life of blissful anonymous obscurity. The press called it
a tragedy. She called it an escape. The abdication was
(01:28):
more of a gentleman's agreement. The line of succession is
a tangled, ancient thing. It's not just a list, it's
a law of parliament. You can't just cross your name off.
You have to be removed. And they never bothered. We
were the forgotten branch of the family tree, a twig
that grew out sideways. We were harmless, so we stayed
(01:51):
on the list. Growing up, it was just a weird
family joke, a story my dad would tell at parties.
After a few beers, he'd pull out the old yellowed
letters with the royal crest. We had a portrait of
my great grandmother in her tierra, hanging next to a
framed photo of my sister as soccer team. It was
(02:12):
our quirky little secret. It meant nothing. Then, about ten
years ago I got a visit a man in a
tailored suit that probably cost more than my car. He
introduced himself as the deputy Private Secretary. He had a briefcase.
Inside was a file, my file. He was very polite,
(02:34):
very British. He explained that due to a series of
unforeseen circumstances a death here, a marriage to a Catholic there,
a few people just deciding they didn't want the job,
I had moved up the list from a comical thirty
eighth to a slightly less comical fourteenth. He gave me
a choice. I could re engage. They'd set me up
(02:57):
with a trust, an apartment in Kent, a list of
acceptable charities, and a tailor. My life as I knew
it would be over. In its place would be a
life of cutting ribbons, shaking hands, and never ever having
a personal opinion again. Or I could sign the papers,
(03:18):
a very thick stack of non disclosure agreements. I would
formerly waive any claim to royal duties, decline any titles,
and in return, the Crown would pretend I didn't exist.
My only duty would be to remain quiet, live a respectable,
unnewsworthy life, and for God's sake, not cause an international incident.
(03:41):
I signed the papers. So now I work at Costco.
It's the most respectable, unnewsworthy job I could think of.
The pay is decent, the benefits are good, and no
one ever suspects that the guy scanning your forty eight
pack of paper towels is technical elligible to open Parliament.
(04:02):
It's a strange double life. I get e mails encrypted
once a month, a little newsletter from the Palace, Earth's deaths, marriages,
a list of my cousins and their official engagements. I
read about Prince William opening a community center, and then
I go clock in for my shift and build a
(04:23):
display of discounted patio furniture. Sometimes it's funny. Last week,
a lady was complaining to me about the price of
English cheddar. She went on a whole rant about the
Royal family and taxpayer money. I just nodded and said, ma'am,
I understand your frustration. We do have a lovely Wisconsin
(04:44):
sharp cheddar on Aisle four. I wanted so badly to
tell her, actually, you're helping to pay for my third
cousin's polo lessons, but I didn't. I just smiled. It's
the Royal way. Sometimes it's not so funny. When the
Queen died, that was hard. I watched the funeral on
(05:04):
my laptop in my tiny apartment before my shift. I
saw all of them, my family, distant cousins twice removed,
but family dressed in black, moaning a woman I'd met
only once as a child, at a very stiff and
awkward family reunion. She gave me a biscuit. She smelled
(05:25):
like lavender, and I felt a profound sense of loss,
a loss for a life I was technically born into,
but never lived. I went to work that night. My
manager Gary saw I was down. He put his arm
around me and said, tough day, Artie. Don't worry tomorrow.
You're on rotisserie chickens. Everyone loves chicken day, And in
(05:50):
that moment, I knew I'd made the right choice. No
one here cares about my bloodline. They care if I'm
a hard worker. They care if I cover shift when
someone's sick. My title here isn't your grace. It's Artie,
and it's a title I've earned. So yeah, I'm fourteenth
(06:10):
in line, a plane crash, a bizarre series of illnesses,
and a constitutional crisis away from being King of England.
But right now I've got a spill. On Aisle seven.
Someone dropped a jumbo jar of pickles, and that I
can assure you is a much more immediate and pressing
matter of state.
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