still not the stupidist manager Ive had
For a couple of years during the Uni's summer holidays I would often take it upon myself to work in menial jobs to stay in touch with the common people and earn abit of extra cash on the way.

One of these jobs was at a chicken murder factory where my job description was to delve my bare hands as deep into the barely dead chickens as possible and rip out the innards as they swung past me on conveyor hooks. Needless to say this job was unpleasant at the best of times, even without the help of the gutting department’s socially inept and at times maniacal manager.

As anyone who has worked at an abattoir would tell you, it’s one of few jobs in which a seven year jail term for arson is seen as evidence of the conviction and responsibility necessary to make one worthy of promotion.

Clearly his sentence did little for his mental health as we would often see him hitting some of the older employees over the head with chickens. I cannot describe the fear of expecting dead bloodied poultry hit you in the back of the head at any moment. It was never provoked and usually done in the spirit of good fun.

This however, was nothing compared to ‘trick’ he would play on the new employees (of which there was a regular turn-around). If while working you felt a slippery coldness on the back of your neck, expect to find Mr Manager behind you with a chicken liver hanging from his mouth. Quite why he felt the need to put an entire bunch of chicken guts in his mouth, sort them around until the liver slithers out like a tongue, and use it to lick the employees is beyond me.
(augsav forgot about B3ta, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 6:30, 3 replies)

That's just fowl!
*boom-tish*!
(deadsetgav, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 8:55, closed)

Are you sure his name
wasn't Rover?
(IChewCandlewax, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 13:24, closed)

The money?
It was paltry.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 12 Jun 2010, 7:19, closed)