Scariest job I ever had wasat a bookies in Maryhill, Glasgow (think Rab C. Nesbitt with a touch of sectarian violence thrown in for fun).
The job itself was okay, being hid behind reinforced glass and paid reasonably to process the bets and pay out money. The problem was the pissed-up scary clientele you would have to handle when doing the evening shifts, who would frequently demand money for bets that they had lost. Obviously they were just venting rage at the fact they'd just lost their weeks' benefit on a stupid tip and would have to face the wife when they got home, but would let loose all kinds of threats in order to blame someone other than themselves.
Basically it's the only job I've ever had where you dreaded clocking off. It's fine handling them when you're divided by a big screen, but all too often a pissed up group of punters would wait outside for you to leave, looking to inflict a nasty kicking. The place had actually had a couple of extra rear exits installed, so that we could check the windows to see where they were waiting, then, as the bus home pulled up across the street, pile out of a different exit and run like buggery hoping you'll be away on the bus before you get battered.
Fortunately I managed to always escape them, being pretty quick on my feet, but many of my co-workers were not so lucky. Head office was as understanding as possible, and if you did get beaten up they would transfer you to a nicer area, but it seemed you had to work your way up from the depths of hell. I kept the job up for a while, because otherwise it wasn't too bad, but had to can it due to the stress after one too many late-night brown trouser moments, being charged at by chiv-wielding weegie nutters.
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Tue 11 Nov 2003, 10:54,
archived)
The job itself was okay, being hid behind reinforced glass and paid reasonably to process the bets and pay out money. The problem was the pissed-up scary clientele you would have to handle when doing the evening shifts, who would frequently demand money for bets that they had lost. Obviously they were just venting rage at the fact they'd just lost their weeks' benefit on a stupid tip and would have to face the wife when they got home, but would let loose all kinds of threats in order to blame someone other than themselves.
Basically it's the only job I've ever had where you dreaded clocking off. It's fine handling them when you're divided by a big screen, but all too often a pissed up group of punters would wait outside for you to leave, looking to inflict a nasty kicking. The place had actually had a couple of extra rear exits installed, so that we could check the windows to see where they were waiting, then, as the bus home pulled up across the street, pile out of a different exit and run like buggery hoping you'll be away on the bus before you get battered.
Fortunately I managed to always escape them, being pretty quick on my feet, but many of my co-workers were not so lucky. Head office was as understanding as possible, and if you did get beaten up they would transfer you to a nicer area, but it seemed you had to work your way up from the depths of hell. I kept the job up for a while, because otherwise it wasn't too bad, but had to can it due to the stress after one too many late-night brown trouser moments, being charged at by chiv-wielding weegie nutters.
Ooooh I could crush a grape....I once worked as an emergency operator, connecting calls from highly distressed members of the public, through to the relevant emergency services, then listening in to the calls to see who was giving who a larraping outside which pub etc. One evening I had a call from some woman, shakily asking for an ambulance, she said that her brother was upstairs, with his bird, and had apparently just "snapped" his old chap whilst on the job. The screams of pain clearly audible from upstairs in the house, were enough to make me feel queasy for the next hour or so!
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Tue 11 Nov 2003, 11:32,
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999While i was working as an emergency operator i recieved a call from a distressed women who told me that her husband whilst mowing the lawn had cut 2 of his toes off (nasty!!). After i had connected her to the ambulance women i stayed on the line to see what advice she would give. she told the distressed women to find the toes and put them on ice as they might be able to re-attatch them. after about two minutes the women returned even more distressed than before and told they ambulance women that the pet alsation had eaten them!! laugh i nearly cried.
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Wed 12 Nov 2003, 16:14,
archived)