The summer before uni i worked in my local village pub
It was run by this utter nutcase. He was a 6'5 South African, built like a brick shithouse who spent the entire day sat on a barstool drinking and chatting to his mates. His main motivational tactic was bollocking you once a week, whether you deserved it or not, but you got used to it after a while.

To be honest I rarely got on his bad side as I needed the money, and had more than one brain cell, a trait sadly lacking with most of the other staff.

Highlights of my time there included:
1. My boss introducing himself to his daughter's new chav boyfriend with stories of how he used to get paid to kill people (SA army).
2. Having his mate's birthday party in the pub - the theme was Rocky Horror Show and he went as Frank N Furter, ah the humour of the armed forces. What was more disturbing was the detailed discussions about costumes in the weeks leading up to this.
3. On the hottest day in the last 100 years (or something - this was summer 2003). It was a Sunday and he refused to shut up shop at lunchtime. Two of the chefs collapsed and we also had mystery customers in on that day. Got one of the worst reports in the history of Scottish & Newcastle which was promptly framed and put up in his office.

Thing is he could get away with murder as the previous landlord used to have coke parties upstairs and then did a runner with the contents of the till and safe.
(Milo Minderbinder, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 12:04, Reply)