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# Last one
and another temp job.

The major clothing chain Pilot were changing over their till system. So you'd think that they'd work out someway to emigrate the data? Nooooo. That would be sensible.

Every item in their shop had a set of information to be input into a form, 12 of 19 fields were to be left empty. Every single item, in every single size had a different barcode. You'd think that they'd get a barcode scanner. Nooooo...

So I sat in a small room for three months, typing eight and a half hours solid every day(I needed the money so worked through my lunchbreaks) and I input about two-thirds of Pilot's new till system.

It didn't involve blood. So that was good.

It didn't involve cancer, again, this was progress.

It wasn't morally bankrupt, so I could sleep at night (albeit dreaming of inputting codes).

So what was so bad about this job? Surely it was just boring, not hellish? Noooo...

They piped Radio bloody One into every room of the building every single day and you couldn't turn it off.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was hell.
(, Mon 10 Nov 2003, 15:36, archived)
# hahaha
all 4, very nice :P
(, Mon 10 Nov 2003, 17:08, archived)