if i never see another flatpack wardrobe as long as i live.....
so there i was all cued up to spend a blissful two weeks at a small local grpahic design firm for my work experience. i was 14-15 and all enthusiastic.
then the day before i was due to start the phone rang, they'd gone into receivership, and there was no work to be done. fucksocks!
this resulted in the school 'finding' a place for me along with all the other kids who hadn't got placements (for that read couldn't be fucked or were too illiterate and morose to get anything)
cue two weeks of hell working for this snobby pigeon-chested self-satisfied middle management fuck at B&Q, mainly consisting of lifting flatpack wardrobes almost as heavy as me onto shelves taller than me, clearing up spilt paint, broken lightbulbs, destroying perfectly good end-of-line stock before binning it to stop poor people from stealing it (god knows why, it was all being binned anyway, that really galled me as one of aforementioned poor people)and being told off because the work we'd been assigned wasn't done( mainly due to the fact i was the only one working, the other guys were off smoking and being lazy fucks just like school really)
the final straw was being point blank accused of stealing, searched and told i had to stay late to make up for the stock that was missing, while the other guys went off, no search, no nothing. i'm pretty honest as it goes and i KNOW i didn't take anything.
at the end of it they paid us the grand total of.. yes, fuck all. and they wouldn't give us references. all in all a good example of what work is really like!
i maintain that the tin of expanding foam i pierced and left in the staff toilet at closing time on my last day is one of my finer moments, and entirely justified.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Mon 20 Feb 2006, 14:34, Reply)