When I
was at college after my GCSE's, I did a BTEC in Business and Finance. Being a muso type, playing in bands etc, I wanted to do some sort of music/media course. But no, was forced into Business and Finance by a mother who was keen to get me into a suit and proper job(NB I'm now 30, and she's STILL trying!). It goes without saying that this course was quite possibly the dullest thing any soul has had to endure. Two fucking years!! By the start of the second year, I'd just about had enough so decided to stop going in. Now the Mother worked in London and did not get back home til 7-7.30 in the evening. I figured that they'd never call outside of college hours, and thus I was safe. Alas, after about 6 months the head of year called up late one evening. Cue call from my Mum to me at a mates house (pre mobile phones) giving me the biggest bollocking of my life. I had to into college with my Dad to explain myself and be told I'd failed and I could fuck right off! Quick thinking on my part concocted a story about how I had been suffering from anxiety, coming to college made me feel sick, psychological blah blah. This is what a mate had really had when we were at school. So I took myself off to the doctors, fed him some bull about having had a few days off as I was ill, needed a doctors note otherwise I'd be expelled. He relented and gave me a note saying I'd had 13 days off. Took said note and a remarkably similar pen and then the note said 131 days! He he he. Head of year fell for it hook, line and sinker. And to help matters, a guy in my class basically did ALL of my work for me as he was really good at it and didn't want me to fail. Bless him. I would have done if not for him. Now becuase I scraped a pass, it got me a job at a finance company. I was the genral dogsbody type, and took care of the more mundane duties. However one of these duties was to go to the bank to pay the cheques in. Nice, get out of the office for a bit. People started getting me to pick stuff up for them in town. Cleaning, food etc. The banking took 10-15 max, and bearing in mind if I wasn't there my boss would do it, for two years it took me an hour everyday. I would wander round town, or as I lived in the town centre, go home, have a cuppa and a bite to eat and a spliff, then wander back to the office for 45 mins, then go home. No-one ever said a word, ever! They must have known, but still never pulled me up on it! Result!
God, I ramble......sorry!
( D3xt3r Don't take any guff from these fucking swine...., Thu 28 Apr 2005, 19:40, Reply)