Eww.
Right now, as I type, there is only one other person in the office with me, and he's been picking his nose for the past five minutes.

Oh God, he just won't stop!
(Musuko, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:46, Reply)

Juggling goth!
I work in a quiet country petrol station where the job opportunities are few and far between.

About a year ago we took on an 18 year old who dresses like death! Black leather trench coat, long hair, guy-liner, leather trousers (!), red contact lenses, the works!

It was great when he first started as I "trained" him, meaning sitting around the majority of the time waiting for him to make a mistake so I can jump in and help. Training is great!

Then he started juggling!

All the time!

He'd be serving customers with one hand, while juggling 3 light-up LED balls with the other. Even when there was a queue, the show had to go on! Some of the young girls loved him, and he had a nice little following.

It all ended in tears (literally!) when he didn't open up the shop one day. When he was called by the manager. Apparently, he'd gone to goth pub with his mates, and they'd left without him, drunk with no money about 20 miles from home (these specialist pubs being few and far between in the country) at 4 in the morning with 2 hours to get home and open/sober up.

He cried on the phone.

He never came back.

I'll miss training that guy!
(r2b2 has ear cataracts?!?, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:43, Reply)

DVLA FREAKSHOW
I used to work in the DVLA in Swansea and like anyone normal who worked there I can tell you it's a right freakshow. Its basically filed with people from the Valleys who could never get an admin job elsewhere (and it was put there for that purpose I believe). Most of the people there live in a 1970's timewarp - gold chains, wife beating alpha male steroid abusers etc. the kind of people who woud marvel at bumping into each other in the English pubs the same shitty Spanish resort they all go to etc - when the weren't down "the club" for chicken in a basket and karaoke. Also if someone worked there, usually heir mum, aunties and sister dis tooHere are just a few of the oddballs I encountered there:

1. The guy who was stalking local media celebrities like a poorman's Freddy Bulsara. Ended up in prison and on the day of release ended up back in the big house due to coming across a local radio (one of whose dj's he was stalking) outside broadcast and freaking out.

2. The middle aged fella who used to come in a shitty old suit everyday even tho you could wear casual clothes. Heard him one talking to himself in a toilet cubicle saying "They don't understand the pressure...I can't cope...". His job? Opening and rubber stamping licence applications at the lowest admin grade.

3. The guy who used to strip off in a toilet cubicle and hang his clothes over the door ranting "they don't know me - who I am! I'll show them!

4. Mr "hello, how are you?" they guy who was known to all 3000 staff due to his obsessively repeated greeting.

5.The Flexi King: The guy who kept his own manual records of hid flexi times - four card swipes a day. Showed me 18 years worth in his desk - "I've caught them out a few times" he told me.

6. When the 2001 Pyramid Scheme scam was going on. the woman who had to explain to her elderly parents that she'd lost £3000 of their money in the backroom of a Workingmen's Club.

7. The old guy who shit his pants on the Xmas do.

8. The crazy old Welsh Nationalist woman, who whenever someone new joined our team would ask them "Wyt ti'n siarad cymraeg?" (do you speak welsh); and if they said 'no', would walk off and never speak to them again.

9. The guy who would boast about how many wanks he'd had in the office toilets that day.

10. The bloke who got sacked for writing "die you cunt" on a colleagues get-well-soon card.

11. The incompetent boss who tripped over the 'step' of a lift which hadn't stopped level with the floor and was found unconcious when the lift opened in the foyer.

12. The bloke who, at the height of the post 9/11 anthrax scare put his nose in a pile of powder found in a letter and got himself hospitalised and the entire DVLA and the road it was on quarantined by blokes in chemcal warfare suits. Turned out it was dust from a postoffice sorting machine.

I could go on and on.
(mr beepbap, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:41, 2 replies)

personal space
One MD I suffered had no concept of personal space, used his work laptop for porn and was generally only looking out for himself. I shall call him Gus (think drop the dead donkey), not quite his real name but very close indeed.
The best reaction to Gus was from the partner of someone who had just started at the office, he came into the office to find her, Gus greeted him and the couple left. Apparently her partners first question on getting outside was "who was that wanker?". Not bad for a meeting of less than a minute.

Odd how the company was always a happier place when Gus wasn't about.
(cmouse is pondering about life in other jobs, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:39, Reply)

Ex Boss
My first job in accounts, was taken under the wing of my supervisor, who knew fuck all, yet had been in 'the game' for over 10 years.

I ended up having to check all his work and correct it so I could do mine properly, he was so dumb he never noticed....

He was a body builder on 'roids so a bit twitchy, used to stamp his feet under his desk and then when people complained (almost daily) claimed he wasn't aware he was doing it!?

Cos he was 'bulking up' he used to eat all day, and used to make far too much smacky lip noises in the process. Had a habit of cooking the stinkiest food making the whole office smell like a shitted nappy. Then used to fart and switch his fan on, for maximum spread.

Cut his nails at his desk, and not over the bin I might add - click, ping.......click, ping.....filthy fucker.

Put his food rubbish in the paper recycling bin - I used to put it back on his desk much to his confusion.

He eventually got promoted on the basis that he could be manager on 3 months trial but if it didn't work out he left. So the 2 of us that made up his team left before the end of the 3 months, somehow he's still there.......

Don't think I won that one, still I'm better off now :)
(Reverend Samson Fapohunda B3tan, B3tan, B3tan, B3tan, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:24, Reply)

My work is quite the racialist melting pot...
I work in a bookies, one of the punters who rings in is a chap of eastern descent called Mr. Bajaj.

Except by Mick, who calls him Mr. Onion.

He also greets our old punters with "you're still kicking then!?", which he follows up by suggesting they may not want to make an ante post bet, on account that they may die before it's settled.

I'll be honest, I actually think he's great.
(bacontrout got ska, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:19, Reply)

Fucking Fucking Fucking...
... Moaning fucker! Or fuckette, as it's a girl.

I'm at an international college somewhere overseas in Europe, and consequently am in a 6th form.
Anyway, I get on with ALL but two of the members of the group. I like them, they like me. Anyway, this cunthead (for that is what she is, and shall be called until she fucks off back to whatever arsehole of Surrey that she crawled out from) has recently taken a disliking to me as I'm fond of a Marlboro Lights and because I can't smoke off site, I'll do it on site instead in the common room.

She has nothing nice to say about ANYONE and it just winds everyone up. Do we care that her ex called her a cunt? Do I care that she doesn't like the jacket Mrs. K is wearing today? Nope, I don't! She has dubbed me arrogant, bitched about me behind my back and criticized my smoking even when she likes a Salmon and Trout too... Plus her dayglo orange face, pseudo gold jewellery and whining fucking voice really get on my tits. Think a sort of Kerry Katona, and you'll almost be there.

Now I arrive to the subject of twat number two. He's a year or two younger than most of us and is the most obnoxious cunt there is this side of Malaga. His false laughing and continous sarky comments towards teachers and other sixth formers is shocking. I would hereby, like to knock him spark out!

Sorry it's become a bit of a ranting and a raving, but I hope she dies of cunt-rot.

Length? Wouldn't touch her for all the tea in China.
(Margaret Thatchers Right Gonad Is up inside ya, finding an entrance where He can!, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:08, 1 reply)

Med student working behind a bar
He was on a year off (he claimed) couldn't pour a pint, or count apparently as he always over or underchanged the punters. The till he was on would routinely be about £20 out at the end of the night. Yet for some reason the boss never realised this, and he didn't improve at all for the five months he was there.
(cs192 is sucking on a Koala at, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 18:08, Reply)

More from the driving school...
...sorry, but I suspect this qotw will prompt a lot of rants about certain driving instructors.

This feller was quite an old guy. Only with us for a few months, but if he and Bernard Manning applied for a job in Race Relations, you'd have given Manning the job. (He was also sexist, homophobic and all the rest to various degrees) Just to piss him off, we came up with a nicely symbiotic system, whereby if any customers with a foreign name were rude to us, we'd book them with him.

How did we get rid of him? One of his pupils phoned up to complain: apparently, whilst she was reversing round a corner, he fell asleep*.


*_{Not quite as funny as the guy who stuck a carrot in his trousers, I admit}

Length? All the way round the corner, apparently.
(LongJohnBaldry, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:46, 1 reply)

More BTBTBTBT
After our Call Center Director changed we got imposed on us her 'pet' as Call Center Manager a certain Nick [email protected] like Michael Vaughn and spoke like Dale Winton. he was the worst bully I have met...The racist twat managed to get all the black or asian managers either sacked or moved to other call centers, one guys mother was dying of cancer and he was off on compassionate leave. Nick Wa@ker said that unless he called in EVERY DAY from the hospice he would be sacked...Luckily his girlfriend worked there and so I gave her a heads up to get him to sort things out with the agency( which he did thank god!!)...He used to advise us all not to rule people by fear and then proceeded to do so by implementing disciplinary proceedures on everybody who didn't hit targets all the time.....
Now in the job we did, we had to stop customers going to other companies and flog them stuff at the same time...No problem...Save lots of customers get lots of bonus get BT lots of business...However where as our bonus was based on whatever we sold, Nick Wa@kers was based on selling a cross the board selection of all targets...So instead of just encouraging advisors to sell as much as possible he wanted advisors to sell all the tatty shite products BT had to offer..And if they didn't=SACK THEM...So you had good salesmen saving lots of customers and making BT and themselves lots of money being bollocked because they havn't sold a Value plan 3.5 that week....

And I knew he was doing this just so he could get HIS bonus : he destroyed morale, lost lots of advisors and made all the line managers (including me) look utter c@nts...

I really hope the bastard gets cancer ....

Sorry a bit of rant but an utter twat...
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:30, Reply)

The Pitbull and The Rotweiler
Currently working in a Solicitors office, the majority of the staff are lovely but they are 2 people who make Homer Simpson look busy.
The Pitbull is in 'charge of catering' when I say catering I mean making tea and coffee and ordering sandwiches for meetings. She comes in at 7.30 am (no meetings take place before 9am) and leaves at 15.30 cos her Partner(who I'll come to in a minute) works those hours and she can get a lift instead of the bus. We work in the city centre and the buses run to her estate every 10 minutes.
The Pitbull has a lovely Polish Lady who in fact does all the work for her, The polish lady can't do anything right in the eyes of The Pitbull. At least 20 times a day The Pitbull will reprimand the Polish lady for some non existent problem.
The Rotweiler is ex army(his army pension is fantastic and he doesn't actually need a job) If you ask him to anything,the responses are that's not my job ask IT or Reception.
Facilties comes under his remit and when I say he does nothing I mean. I've worked here for a year and despite numerous requests there's no hot water in the bathroom sinks. The heating system doesn't work on one floor it's tropically hot and on the floor above it's so cold it's like the Artic. Despite everyone in the office complaining regularly,for almost two years,it still hasn't been fixed, when his name is mentioned everyone rolls their eyes. Apolgies for length but I needed to vent my frustration.
(Plastic Paddi, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:28, Reply)

Eccentric MDs
Honestly, when the company was ticking along nicely and the operations manager did a good job of shielding us from the MD, no one really had a problem with the fella.

But recently...

Today’s decision was that after promising to help a client with their presentation on the spiffy new website, he would set up an autocue for them in the next city over.

Courtesy of sending them the placement lad, a laptop with word and a mouse with a scroll wheel.

/relurks
(Jeno, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:19, Reply)

Bosses - Colleagues...
The host of 40 million jobs I've had since the age of 12 means I've met a fair few tossers; but also managed to work in some brilliant places, with excellent staff and bosses.

The first that comes to mind was whilst working in a stuck up bar in central Birmingham.

Now, I'm one of those people that will put my all in in what ever shitty job I have, it generally makes the time go faster.

But this one unnamed woman boss whose name still appears above the door was such a right tardy pent up ball of frustration.

Prior to working in this pub, I'd worked in plenty of others, now besides slightly different house rules, they all operate pretty much the same. So I quickly found my feet, and got to the job in hand.

Pulling pints for example, she would watch you like a hawk... often breathing down your neck her vile coffee stench breath... then commenting... always commenting, this extended to mopping, moving and arranging the fridges, polishing the bottles... and complaining about the flies that got into the red wine - and how we shoudl strain it :S...

Anyway the group of us behind the bar and down in the kitchens would have a good laugh, I still remain good friends with one of the chaps to this day.

Move forwards a few months, she starts to mellow towards me - as she realises that not only do I do an excellent job, but I am actually improving the bar, by actually cleaning the places that couldnt be seen. That were slimey with years of spilt beer (if anyone has ever worked in a bar, they will be familiar with beer sticky brown sludge)engrained with shards of glass and dropped change...

Now all was going swimingly; I was supervising and training new staff (not being paid for it though) doing the banking (which is sooo totally illegal I swear - several grand in cash on my back through the center of brum???)

Anyway I digress, she'd become complacent, although she had warmed; she was still picking up on things... and expecting me to do more and more I wasnt paid to do so...

anyway - one of my duties was to open up on a monday morning (we're shut on a sunday) so a team of 3 of us would do all the duties, cleaning lines, stocking fridges, making the place spik and span... Only this one particular monday morning, I was in alone, the other 2 called in sick... Not a major problem, but obviously I cant do everything, we'll just have to manage...

And perhaps she will get off her arse and offer a hand - my arse - she sat there, shouting at me at every action - including but not confined to mopping the floor, to sweeping the yard...

So, as anyone with half a hangover wil ltell you, dont speak to me - let alone shout.. so I walked up to her, threw my apron down - and walked out!! Stupid bint, not a quarter of what was supposed to be done was done and the pub was opening in an hour.. hahahahaha...

Slightly off qotw, but meh... 10 points for guessing the bar...
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:19, 1 reply)

Hey you lot!
Am I the only person here who's worked only with mostly middle-of-the-road types? Some a bit annoying or overbearing but mostly OK? Some of them I even got on pretty well with. Does anyone else share this phenomenon?
(Whizzer, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:15, 3 replies)

Not a story.
If you told us what he did, then it'd be a story.

Edit: As some might have guessed, this was a misdirected reply...stupid me. Sorry!
(Musuko, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:54, 5 replies)

Where do I start?
Furthest back first I think:
The team manager who did me down at every turn, everything I did was wrong. And then she found out she was pregnant (we never did work out how, she was always moaning about how she never saw her husband). Cue six months of 'oh woe is me, I'm pregnant' and 'but I think it must be a boy this time, as when I was pregnant with my daughter I had no sex drive, this time I'm having sex ALL the time!' (again, how?)

The lawyer who, while lovely in every other respect, had breath as potent as Baldrick's pants.

The HR manager who complained I hadn't rung in sick - when I was in hospital, and had told her in writing three weeks previously that I would be.

The consultant surgeon who found a new system and DEMANDED that it be bought for him or he'd walk, costing the hospital THOUSANDS of pounds, only to discover (once he had it) that it wasn't suitable for use by the hospital without replacing a whole load of other medical equipment, at a cost of a further HUNDRED THOUSAND: and cancelled lists.

The consultant surgeon who was so anal he put up wanted posters with pictures of his theatre clogs on when someone else 'stole' them (turned out they'd just been taken away to be cleaned: like he'd asked for....)

All of the Phillipino staff (of whom there were many) who would always be anti-social and talk in their own language - if you were the only english speaker on the team that day, you got used to talking to yourself

The postroom clerk who loved telling new bods all about the operation she had to stretch her urethra and how many days she was pissing blood for afterwards

The boss who was half German and made sure everyone knew it, as if it mattered, even though I could speak more than he could. He used to drop broken units off to a particular company to get fixed, as they happened to be on his way home. We found out later he'd been claiming his journey home every day back on expenses.

The next boss, who was a total opinionated bigot, and who spent most of his time mouthing off about Thatcher. I mean, I know she's not popular, but this was a daily thing and the woman stepped down in 1990 for chrissakes!

But they all pale into insignificance against the NEXT boss, whom I had to teach how to send emails. And use Excel. And Access. And Word. And SAP, our main processing programme. And remind about all the things he'd promised to do and not done. Repeatedly. And put up with his constant sexist remarks about every blonde that walked into the office. And his farting, and the stupid little snorty thing he did to clear his sinuses. Add all this to the fact that he gave my job to someone else within two weeks of finding out I was pregnant saying I 'wasn't experienced enough' (despite being in the job 3 years), and you might just start to guess that I don't like him too much.

Rant over, and bollocks to the length. There's more, but I fear my venom may break the pc....
(Mrs Trellis GIN, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:51, 2 replies)

Nothing too harsh,
I work in a smallish office and we all get along great except for the same vein crackhouse broke into with the "I'm holding a child and therefore can't do anything except gossip and drink tea."

However one of my colleagues has taken it upon himself to floor his work area with bubblewrap, which means whenever he moves on his chair all we can hear is a crescendo of popping and whenever we look over he has this smug smirk on his face.

The problem?

I wish I'd thought of it first. :(
(Vikingheadache, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:46, 1 reply)

Helen -eeeurgh
She was in the NHS procurement office i worked in , and was just rank.

Spinster, 54, had a mother like the one off Allo Allo.

she had a lung condition that meant she sounded like she had TB, and gobbed everywhere when she spoke. When my desk was moved to face hers i had to have a screen put up to stop the lung oysters from hitting me and my desk.

She also had a friendly GP whom - without fail - when she coughed at him, gave her a 2 week sicknote. She booked 2 weeks off every October, and always got an extra 2 for free.

Then she started having 4 months off per year - proper piss taking that is.

17 years of this type of palaver, i am told, finally got the Trust to offer her a package to retire as they could then hire someone to do her job rather than make us all do it whilst she was off riding her horse.

If i need to delay ejaculation for about a week i think of her lobbing a big phlemy like she used to. Eeeuuugh even now i feel sick and decidely no trouser action will happen for days.
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:45, Reply)

DSS, circa 1994 - 96
Eric.

Fat, sweaty, and with a laugh like an asthmatic kiddie fiddler.

Nice enough bloke, but the personal hygiene problems and propensity to chuckle throatily grated after a while. You really didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with him for long.

Which I was. Frequently.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:41, Reply)

I won't go into detail......
about the tosser himself, but let's just say he was my boss at the time and an expert at jumping on shoulders when there was credit to be claimed and disappearing when something went wrong.

Amyway I had been developing a successful client relationship with a client (obviously) when they asked me to pitch for a large piece of work. Along I went and we won the job. We arranged a meeting for the following week to sign the contract and this git said he would come along to put "names to faces".

Yep you guessed it - when we got back he claimed he'd won the work etc and claimed (and got) all the credit.

I was not happy (!) but he knew nothing about computers so when he was away from his desk I went into the "autocorrect" function in Microsoft Word on his machine and set it so everytime he typed in his surname ("SINGER") it changed it to "WANKER". He went mental - espcially as he sent out several letters without noticing.

Revenge can be sweet.
( The Twisted Omentum vidi vici veni, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:39, Reply)

Suffer the little children
"Why has Colleague X been given a parking space?"

"Because she has children. She has to do the school run."

"And that would be why she gets her teaching scheduled for post-10am and pre-4pm?"

"Yes, she has to arrange child care."

"And that would be why she's done no research for five years, and why we have to cover for her at the drop of a hat?"

"Er, yes."

LISTEN UP BREEDERS! So you gave the gift of a child to the world. Thanks a fucking bunch. It doesn't make you special, it doesn't make you a better person, it does not give you some unique and lofty perspective on the world, and it certainly should not entitle you to a bloody car parking space. You made a lifestyle choice; deal with it. And if you ever, ever say to me "if you had kids you'd understand" then I'll unleash the paedophiles.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:31, 31 replies)

When I used to work in ad sales
(which isn't as long ago as I'd like to think), the turnover in the ad sales department was understandably high. Which is why my boss, when recruiting for a new position, wasn't unduly worried if the list of candidates wasn't particularly strong. Chances are they'd be gone in 6 months anyway.

His worst mistake, as many of my colleagues and I agree, was A. She is a monstrosity. A moody, sickie-pulling, attention-seeking woman of truly hideous proportions. She started fine: she was very jolly, matey and helpful. Then things started to slowly change. She'd deathstare all of the female members of the team, sending snide emails about them to other people. In fact, she bitched about every single person in the team to every other person. She'd suddenly scream at us, accusing us of ganging up on her. She fell for our boss, and then got angry and abusive when he turned her down (and told us all that she believed him to be in love with another girl on the team, and that they were having a secret affair). Worst of all, she stole our leads, and then accused us of taking them away from her if we complained. In short, she was an unstable, unreliable psychopathic bitch, who couldn't even do her job.

I'd like to say that she was another example of swift turnover, but nearly two years later, she's still hanging in there, a millstone around my ex-boss's neck. Everyone there still hates her, but she can't be fired without risk of her suing the company.

I am so glad I don't work there anymore. Everyone else was lovely, but she was just mental.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:26, 1 reply)

Where to start?


One of the best was Carol. I once worked at Kew Gardens in their Office Services dept. and Carol was my manager. It wasn't so much that she was very, very annoying - though she was, but she was very, very inefficient. While I was working for her, roughly 80% of her working day was taken up with discussing her wedding, either with any member of staff that didn't feel able to tell her to shut the fuck up, pleeeeease, or to her Mum on the phone, or to her fiancee on the phone.

Is there anything more likely to cause ear-bleeding than having to listen to someone with a loud, annoying voice going on in TREMENDOUS DETAIL about their wedding? OK, yes, you're right: the same person going on about their honeymoon or their baby and insisting that you look at seven hundred photos.

I don't mind appearing rude if it means I can avoid looking at someone's photos.

More tomorrow, as dredge 20+ years of drudgery.

Oh, by the way; I've been robbed! Where was my beautiful tale on the best of board??? How do I lodge a complaint?
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:25, 2 replies)

My first manager
This guy was called Steve. He was a complete caricature of your typical sit-com office manager. Mid-30s, balding, in the despairing throws of a mid-life crisis and thriving on his position of OPS manager. When he got promoted to area manager - responsible for SIX (count em) stores - you could literally FEEL the aura of self-importance when he breezed past.

The way he spoke and the things he came out with are now legendary amongst staff, contracters and delivery drivers. And you knew he was about to speak as he would always, without fail, lean against the nearest leanable object, give a short, sharp SNIFF, breathe in, and then bless us with his inimitable wisdom.

He was a bit OCD when it came to store rules. One time a couple of contracters from Leeds (3 hours north) had been in the stock room all morning drilling into walls and replacing pipes. Steve comes in that afternoon, after they'd gone and notices they'd left a bit of plasterboard dust on the floor next to the wall.

STEVE: *SNIFF* "What's this?"
ME: "Oh, a couple of contracters were in this morning. Must've forgotten to clear it up. I'll just fetch the brush."
STEVE: *SNIFF* "Oh no you won't. Call them back."
ME: "What?"
STEVE: (looking straight into my eyes) "Call. Them. Back."
ME: "But Steve, they've come all the way from Leeds! You want them to drive back down just to sweep this up?!"
STEVE: "They made the mess, they'll sweep it up"

And so, the poor workmen drove another 3 hours back from Leeds to spend 4 seconds sweeping up some dust.

Another time he noticed a delivery driver hadn't loaded two empty trollies back on his truck.

STEVE: *SNIFF* "Why haven't you loaded these on?"
DRIVER: "What do you mean?"
STEVE: *SNIFF* "They must go back. We need a clear stockroom"
DRIVER: "But it's just 2 small trollies. Can you not wait til we have a full load? It'll take me at least half an hour at the end of my shift to reverse and unload those!"
STEVE: *SNIFF* "They MUST, go back."

And so the poor chap patiently loaded them up whilst secretly wishing death upon the skinny twat in his midst.

But Steve was always at best when he was talking about himself. He made me stop what I was doing once so he could take me into the loading bay to look at his white Honda Civic Type R (old style). *SNIFF* "When I stop at the lights EVERYONE looks. Only 2 in the area. I'VE got one. Keep working hard Matty and you might have one of these," he says giving me a wink, a smug grin and a patronising pat on the back.

Or the time one of the newer lads said he spotted him in a curry house the night before. *SNIFF* "Ah yes the Ramna. They KNOW me in there. 'Seat by the fire Mr Glover? Pint of the usual?' *SNIFF* They KNOW me." All completely serious.

I last saw him a couple of years ago stood in an ultra hip bar, on the edge of the dance floor, Friday night, looking painfully like Mr Smithers in skin-tight white shirt, clutching a bottle of WKD, his head bopping meaninglessly to music he secretly hates. Tragic really.
(BeardyMat, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:24, Reply)

Oh, the ‘Corporate buzzword’ bastard…

I used to work in a car parts warehouse as a PC spanner (amongst other things). Now this company are huge and choc-full to the brim of the most annoyingly incompetent spackers known to civilisation…and most of them are in management.

They attempt to compensate for their laziness, ineptness and general spoddishness by indulging in the modern art of sucking up to their bosses in copious proportions. They achieve this through the media of spouting never-ending brown rivers of management buzzwords.

But high above them all, on a throne carved from the finest bull, horse and pigshit, sits ‘Burnsy’. A man of such extreme wankiness that my face contorts with rage as I reminisce.

Really, I cannot remember the last time I encountered such a waste of spunk and egg.

The very definition of ‘all mouth and trousers’ (with a lot of belly thrown in), Burnsy has blagged and mind-molested his way into the higher echelons of management.

Without.actually.doing.anything.

However, it’s in meetings where he unveils his awesome arsenal of buzzword bollockness. In front of all the managers and team leaders, he spouts off such gems as:

Burnsy: “Right then people…FOCUS! We need to push…PUUUUSH (with hand gestures) the company forward. Proactive not reactive, we must deliver and action to benchmark this synergy.”
Everybody: “Huh?”
Burnsy: “Thinking outside the box is best practice…we must empower to stretch the Kaizen”
Me: “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
Burnsy: “Well……..basically….I’m putting the targets that everybody couldn’t achieve last year UP by another 30%”
Everybody: “mmmf”
Burnsy: “WE ARE LEADERS OF MEN!!”

The upper management schlurp up this uberwank like a gaggle of Hannibal Lectors going at a bowl of scrotum soup. It is sickening to behold.

The only manager that actually sussed Burnsy was a twat has since been booted out himself for …erm…being a twat. That situation left his underling (Burnsy’s No. 1 fan and co-speaker of the language of pointless corporate gobbledegook) in charge.

That place is fucked.

Of course, when there’s actual work to be done, or (god help him) a decision to be made, Burnsy flaps and goes off like a cheap firework. He then hides or hops on his little electric truck and cocks off into the distance; only to return when the panic has subsided so he can take the credit for resolving the situation.

“I was glad to facilitate the inspiration for this learning curve scenario” he dribbles, as everybody mutters ‘cunt’ under their breath.

I’m sure he genuinely believes that he’s good at his job. Patronising to one and all, and despite having the mental capacity of a lump of turquoise plasticine, Burnsy is the epitome of turning it on when he feels he can benefit, only to metaphorically dump his muck and leave you with your arse bleeding in the gutter. His attempt to be ‘one of the lads’ makes you shudder.

Over the years, he has ‘managed’ to move between several teams, royally shag them ragged on a biblical scale and then bugger off to leave someone else to pick up the mess and mutinies… Following this, the first act in his ‘new role’ will be to slag off the shit state of his previous team and complain ‘It was never like that when I was in charge’. He’s the management equivalent of a tumour.

A mate of mine (Hi mudbutton!) is currently on the arse end of this very ordeal.

‘One day he’ll get what’s coming to him’ we all say, but he won’t. He’s been rumbled more times than I can care to remember but always seems to come out of the shite smelling of roses, usually with some other poor twunt carrying the can.

I managed to get out of there…far away from the blithering cumbubble. The look on his face as I told him I was leaving for a better job was worth more than the salary itself.

He prides himself on keeping you down. He failed with me.

Then again, I hear he’s on his way to another promotion.

Some things never change, and as sure as day follows night, Burnsy is a git.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:23, 14 replies)

BTBTBT
Having worked in BT call centers for years there have been plenty of absolute [email protected] remembered were a certain twat call Mike C*wan who was the biggest arse licking cock jockey in the building...Kissed the arse of the operations manager who was about to retire and managed to get his position...Then used this position as a tool to show everybody in the department (about 5000 employees) what an absolute ignorant uneducated cock he really was...When sending out nation wide briefings he wood get his spelling sew wrong ant because he waz ewe sing spell cheque rather than his own minimal noel ledge of English his spell ling was like this....Their was know excuse, they should have checked to sea if he had GCSE or O level English...It was embarrassing to think that people around the country thought the best Doncaster had to offer were illiterate f@ckwits...

Also a guy called Jamie G*sh, similar level of education...When doing a presentation to a number of very very high up managers used a flip chart written by himself that looked like a child of 8 had written it.......
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:22, 1 reply)

Pearoast
A couple of years ago, I was working at a med school in the midlands. Most of the teaching staff were medics themselves, and this meant that they didn't really need much by way of office space; it was felt that a large, open plan affair was appropriate. I, being a humanities type, was more used to having my own office and being available to students pretty much all the time. Indeed, they even have my home phone number.

One day, a couple of students knocked on the office door, wanting to know if N, one of their lecturers, was in. She was - indeed, only she and I were.
"Sure," I said as I let them in. "She's down at the other end of the office."
A few minutes later, the students left, and N came thundering down the office.
"WHAT did you think you were doing?"
"Huh?"
"Letting students in!"
"They wanted to see you. They had a question. You run the course the query concerned. You were in. QED."
"Students are NOT allowed just to come and see staff at any time! They are NOT allowed in here! I could have been setting an exam!"
"My students can come to see me any time they want. And if I'm setting an exam, I'll turn off my monitor. 'S'no biggie."

N looked baffled. She honestly had no idea that her job might involve, like, trying to inspire students with a love of the subject.

Silly cow.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:18, 4 replies)

Fat Lying Son of a Bastard's Bastard's Bastard
One of my old sales 'team', and the root cause of me walking out of a fairly well paid job on Christmas Eve.

Couldn't tell the truth to save his life. The times I have been dealing with a customer in this utter bell-end's company and been quietly cringing as the drivel cascaded from his lips like a discharge of raw sewage.

Highlights? Telling a customer that he wasn't paid on commission but was a 'salaried consultant'. He was a fucking salesman, and yes, they're paid on commission.

Throwing wobblies on a regular basis and walking out of the premises, then phoning in and demanding to be driven home. Pretending the dealer demonstrator was his car so much so that he would have them privately de-badged if the engine wasn't big enough ti impress his neighbours on whatever Barratt shithole he infested.

Screaming fits if someone from another branch dared to sell a vehicle from the group stock list (shared by all) as this made the 'whole thing a mockery' and a 'farce'. Regular declarations that he was handing in his notice, never backed up in writing of course the cowardly fat cunt.

Too lazy to do the paperwork properly so the shit hits the fan when I'm on the only week off I get in ten months of seven days a week drudgery and I catch the blame. Or the customer he lied to comes in, coincidentally on this reptile's cunningly arranged day off, to complain quite rightly at being told a crock of shit.

And despite all this, being too 'old school' as a manager (i.e. taking responsibility for my team and shielding them from the shitstorm generated by the directors when I should apparently have weaseled and blamed an underling) I protected the imcompetent toad from a well deserved disciplinary.

One of the few people that, if they were to die in some hideous, prolonged and agonising manner, I would be actually happy as a pig in shit.

*Breathe*
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:14, 1 reply)

Nicola*
When I was a spritely young teen, I worked at the recently opened Gap in Leamington Spa with about 15 other similarly aged people and one absolute whore-bitch of a woman.

It seemed her main goal in life to be an overbearing sly old cow with nothing better to do than belittle us with horrible lies about how rubbish we were and how little work we did. Even the elders of the group (20-24) would say how often they felt like they were back at school when she talked to us, and how neurotically anal she was about the smallest things.

It didn't help she had one of the most whiny, nasally high voices you'll ever hear, coupled with a tendency to interrupt you without fail whenever you were speaking. Her mantra was "Fold and talk" as we were most often redoing displays.

I can still vividly remember being told off for not knowing how to operate the till on my first day of till training.

Still, a good friend of mine there came up with the best nickname for her. Nazi Nicola; ever since the name was coined we goose-stepped around her, gave her thinly veiled one armed salutes across the store, much to the amusement of everyone working.

We hated her.
(Himjim died a little more inside on, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:09, 1 reply)

A guy at college
... sort of a co-worker... anyway:

Once, getting changed quite alone in the locker room, as one does after hockey practice, I witnessed a strange occurance.

A guy whom i vaguely recognised from around the place, but whom i would not have expected to take part in any sports team, and as such would not have expected to use the changing rooms, entered.

I was unclear as to his intentions, as he strutted through the door and slowly but purposefully searched the showers. His strut was not that of an over-cocky youth likely to be carrying a weapon of some desctription, but rather a lumbering trudging motion which, though perhaps less intimidating, emitted no less of an alpha male aura.

Apparently satisfied that we were alone in the vecinity, he moved towards me. But instead of challenging or attacking me in any way, he stopped uncomfortably close, and took his clothes off.

By this point, i had moved on from curiousity and was frankly allarmed that he has chosen to undress so close to me in an otherwise empty room, and the distinct lack of anything for him to change into was playing on my mind - i feared the worst, and wondered exactly how fast i could exit the room, should the need arise.

No such need did arise however, as whereupon all of his clothes had been removed, he made another lumbering, strutting motion toward the showers. It added up. My anxiousness was eased, and replaced once again by curiousity as this naked figure proceded to make the same systematic search of the showers, and once again, return empty handed. He went on to circle the room and myself in this state of undress in the several minutes which followed.

Were this not enough, after he completed a few circuits, he simply put his clothes back on, and left.
(ShitBitch, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 16:05, 1 reply)