I worked one summer in a data processing companyThey transferred paper records onto microfiche for companies and councils to reduce storage costs/space.
Each individual piece of information had to be photographed separately by the machine operators, but given their lofty position within the company they couldn't possibly separate the documents themselves. That's where I came in! For the princely sum of £2.50 an hour I removed staples and receipts from travel expenses, made sure the bus passes were all in the correct order, sellotaped torn documents back together and if I was really lucky folded bent corners and creases out of bits of paper.
All the documents were stored in a warren-like version of the Raiders Of The Lost Ark warehouse which did provide the opportunity for post-it note based wargames - my best memory of that place was nearly taking a friend's eye out with a rubber band launched post-it folded over (I was an expert) and sellotaped (again - mad skillz) in the middle with a removed-staple clusterbomb warhead (we had a few spare).
He cried - ha. I got him the job as he was incapable of landing something that shitty himself so it was his fault really.
(Each individual piece of information had to be photographed separately by the machine operators, but given their lofty position within the company they couldn't possibly separate the documents themselves. That's where I came in! For the princely sum of £2.50 an hour I removed staples and receipts from travel expenses, made sure the bus passes were all in the correct order, sellotaped torn documents back together and if I was really lucky folded bent corners and creases out of bits of paper.
All the documents were stored in a warren-like version of the Raiders Of The Lost Ark warehouse which did provide the opportunity for post-it note based wargames - my best memory of that place was nearly taking a friend's eye out with a rubber band launched post-it folded over (I was an expert) and sellotaped (again - mad skillz) in the middle with a removed-staple clusterbomb warhead (we had a few spare).
He cried - ha. I got him the job as he was incapable of landing something that shitty himself so it was his fault really.
Jay,
Tue 11 Nov 2003, 10:15,
archived)
Worst job I had...was working for this complete prick who owned a rinky dink 9 hole golf course in Cambridgeshire. This guy was an utter bastard- he kept his dogs in a tiny pen knee deep in their own shit, had an illegal water mains hook up and used to delight in calling me anything other than my real name. Me and my mate had our revenge for the pittance he used to pay us though- so stoned we could barely speak we ate as many of his ice creams as we could face, stole his golf balls, then resold them to his customers, knackered his shonky water hook up and somehow cut off the power to the club house! As well as throwing all of his clubhouse ashtrays into the river, hacking the Christ out of his carefully tended greens and deliberately carving up his driving range in the Heath Robinson built "tractor" that he used for picking up the balls.
Looking back on it, it's hard to see who got the worst from the deal- still it set me up nicely for my chosen career of industrial saboteur.
(,
Tue 11 Nov 2003, 11:01,
archived)
Looking back on it, it's hard to see who got the worst from the deal- still it set me up nicely for my chosen career of industrial saboteur.