The joy of German banks
Back in the 90s I used to work for one of those cuddly German banks, you know, one of the ones that funded Auschwitz and the development of Zyklon B.

In 50 years there hadn't really been that much of an attitude shift - ie everyone who wasn't German was treated like shit. They made my boss at the time write out the plan of how to liquidate her own department and shift it to Frankfurt (how thoughtful), and the top dog (who loved to wear Good Morning Vietnam shiny green suits), used to love to get his departmental heads to in-fight as much as possible to keep himself in as safe a position as possible.

Anyway, sadly, the whole culture permeated down the management structure levels - one particular cnut, who I shall call Sohn Jalter (for the sake of anonymity) was a real little Hitler-youth. He was universally loathed.

Anyway, he loved doing his master's bidding and when the time came to start slashing jobs, he went at it with real zeal.

Now, I sat next to a lovely bloke called Olly - great lad from Catford and although we couldn't have probably been from more different backgrounds, we got on just fine. Sadly though, Olly wasn't always the brightest spark, but give him his due, he did work hard.

Trouble with Olly was he liked the odd funny cigarette. Well, when I say odd, probably an ounce bag an evening. So, one Friday afternooon, somebody asks him what he's up to on the weekend.

'Oh, I'm off on the legalise cannabis march'...

Monday morning, John, erm I mean, Sohn is sitting there gurning his fat cnut of a face off. He sidles up to Olly and says 'Hi Olly, as you know this company has a random drugs policy test, and you're up this morning'.

Unsurprisingly, the reading went off the scale and the test tube melted, so Olly had to clear his desk, as Sohn sat there looking pleaed with himself about the money that he'd saved the department that would no doubt mean he got an extra £50 in his bonus package.

I don't hate many people, but...
(sugar_tits, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 15:02, Reply)