Duuuuuuuuh
Working in a removal company is physically challenging as a worker. All you think about all day is how to take the piss out of your colleagues, and where that sofa you just man-handled out of a house is going to sit in the wagon.
One day, me and my driver of the day pulled up to a house worth 750k, not including the 4 hectares of land it sat on.
We get buzzed through the gates, drive about a quarter of a mile to reach the front door, and are greeted by the lovely well-to-do female owner.
I jump out of the cab, walk over and engage in pleasantries. Being an Potential Officer, I know how to deal with toffs and put on my best Queens English accent to boot.

My driver then gets out of the cab and before he can open his mouth, his phone goes off.
The lady then chirps up, hearing the classical ring-tone of the office mobile, coo-ing over how she "just loves Vivaldi's second in A" and "how nice it is to see such elegant tastes in such a worker".

My driver then answered the phone, pressed it into his face and, with all the warmth you can only get from growing up in East Hull, said "ah-lugh. Yuh. Yuh. Naaah maaate, tote-al fruit and nut-case she is. Fukkin min-ted laaake. Baaaah maaate."

Surprisingly, we didn't get a tip from that job.
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Mon 28 Jan 2008, 12:43, Reply)