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Stone baked bread
I spent several years working in the bakery dept. of one of the UK's largest supermarkets *slaps back pocket twice* and I can confirm that what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over. Bread pudding was generally made from products that had been sitting on the waste rack for up to ten days; if it was green, that just ensured a little extra flavour for the lucky punters. If a lump of dough went on the flour, the bits of grit were picked out and it was chucked back on the conveyor belt. We occasionally played pranks on each other, so after receiving a lump of dough to the back of my head from a playful colleague, I poured a handful of multigrain seeds into my grease jug, surreptitiously crept behind him, then emptied it into his arse crack as soon as he bent over to stop the machine; the manager was not impressed to discover one of the staff sitting in the sink (where the utensils were washed), pulling cumin/poppy/sunflower seeds out of his ring along with a healthy helping of tagnuts and arse hair.

However, the crowning glory occurred about ten years ago. I was a bit of a smoker in those days, as was the guy I worked with at the time, so we used to see how stoned we could get whilst we worked. I'd roll a joint, smoke half of it, chip it out then give it to him, then around half hour later, he would do the same. If it wasn't possible to pass it on due to other staff being around, we'd just stick the half-spliff in our respective pockets until it was convenient. On one such occasion, I searched my pocket to give my mate his half of the doobie and discovered that it was missing; evidently, the THC-induced memory loss had kicked in and I must have smoked it myself.
Well, the next day I was working away merrily (for we'd been smoking weed since 4am), when my manager came out the back to see me.
"Bloody customers, they'll try anything!" he exclaimed.
"What's up?" says I.
"Someone's only just walked in and said that he's bought a french stick with a roll-up sticking out of it. He's obviously lying, so I told him to f*ck off, but he reckons that he's going to EHO about it."

Cue the next two weeks of me bricking it and expecting to be sacked which, although it was a sh*t job, would have inconvenienced me considerably; we made our own hours up so even though I was on about £4 p/h, I was taking home about £300 p/w. Furthermore, we were under scrutiny until the investigation was conducted, so work became extremely unpleasant.

There is a happy ending, though: The environmental health people didn't notice that it was a spliff, just that it was a roll-up, so they tried to pin it on this mad woman who worked out the front with the packing staff, for she was the only member of staff (that they knew of) who used Rizla. She kicked off and denied it, so they interviewed the cleaner, a local chav who happily admitted that he smoked spliffs on the job and it could well have been his and on top of that, could he have it back?

He was sacked, but I think I got the bum deal, because I ended up working there for another six years.

Apologies for length, but I'm used to saying that. My b3tan hymen has been well and truly snapped.
(Wed 26th Jul 2006, 19:18, More)