When I was at uni it cost 10p to print a sheet of A4 on campus. Once your credit had run out, and you tried to print, obviously they needed a way to tell you to top up

The way they chose to inform us was that the printer, for every document you sent, would print a sheet of A4 with a massive sad-face smiley and a note that your credit balance was not sufficient.
(TheJacksonSixth, Sat 25 Feb 2012, 2:11, 5 replies)

I worked for B&Q for two years.
After a break to go off to university, I came back to my home town. Unemployed and desperate for any kind of work to bring in money, I ventured back to be told that interviews were now conducted over the phone by Head Office, using an automated system.
Six button presses on multiple choice customer service-related questions later, the recorded voice informed me that I was unsuitable for employment by B&Q. I guess the local managers were just too lazy to sack me during those two years ...
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Sat 25 Feb 2012, 0:25, 2 replies)

I applied for a temp Christmas job with Royal Mail and they insisted I apply online, as they refused to accept postal applications

(IHateSprouts is baking a huge pie shaped like an enormous pie, Sat 25 Feb 2012, 0:08, 7 replies)

Mackeson Drinker's story reminded me of this
A mate of mine used to work for the Ministry of Agriculture (MAFF).

He was recruited to MAFF in the mid 90s. One of his tasks was to check the amount of oil they had in store and report it to another department.

The report had developed over a long time. It had been put on a spreadsheet, and charts had been made from the figures.

Not being one of nature's civil servants, he phoned the other department and asked what they did with the report. They said they looked at it and then filed it away. They didn't do anything with the actual figures.

He decided to get to the bottom of the report. After some time, he found out that the report was originally asked for during the Suez Crisis in 1956. Most departments had been told the report was no longer necessary. Not so MAFF. So, a civil servant had been assigned to produce this oil report for around 40 years, for no reason whatsoever.

Good old British Civil Service.
(Tont, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 23:43, 1 reply)

Severn Trent Water and the non-existant water supply
I lived in a big shared house with a small outbuilding. This was in a bad state with cracked walls and an asbestos roof, so we stashed things like step ladders in there and locked it up.

One day, a water bill (it was standard water rates; not metered) came for the outbuilding. We scratched our heads; the shack hadn't had a water supply in over 20 years. Sure enough, the water main truncated as it entered the building and there was no evidence of any sinks etc. So we wrote back informing the water company of their mistake, assumed that would be the end of it.

Many months of indignant-letter-tennis later, they threatened to cut the water supply off and sent someone round. "Yes please," we urged, "cut off our imaginary water". The chap was baffled and said he'd do the required paperwork. This happened many times over the next four years. Ignoring the letters meant visits, while replying seemed to trigger more demands.

Anybody else had this?
(IHateSprouts is baking a huge pie shaped like an enormous pie, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 23:35, 3 replies)

Infallable Broadband
I used to have my broadband supplied by a supplier with the initials TB (Though not necessarily in that order).

All was fine until my broadband speed became so slow as to be unusable. No problem I thought, I'll just ring their helpline and get it all sorted out in a jif...

One long wait later I finally get through to someone who confirms my router is switched on and plugged then informs me that they've run a test and my line is fine.

My broadband is still running at dial up speeds so I ask if I can lot a call and get an engineer out.

Here's where it gets daft because the guy in the line informs me that they estimate my line should get a speed of 3MB and their policy is that I can't log a fault unless it is slower than 20% of that speed. Mine is just slightly faster than that at the moment so sorry, no fault call.

I point out that I live 200 feet from the exchange so a) their estimate must be wrong and b) there's clearly something wrong for it to run this slow.

The agent won't budge though so I ask to escalate the problem. After another long wait and going through exactly the same routine again I was on the point of giving up.

I don't know whether the guy was as frustrated as me with their stupid rules or just felt sorry for me but he decided to help.

"Phone back and say your phone line is intermittantly crackly" he said.

"Come again?"

"Report a crackly phone. They'll have to come and sort it out. It'll sort out your broadband problem at the same time."

It worked too.

There are ways round the red tape, you just have to find them.

Apologies for the length but anything to do with TB always goes on forever.
(WholeGrain Using the same sig since, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 23:25, 1 reply)

Answer Phone
I am currently in the unenviable position of trying to borrow a large sum of money from a high street bank. As such, I need to call my business bank manager quite regularly. The fact that I am given his mobile number is considered a special privilege - I feel greatly honoured. However, when I call him, I never get directly through to him, I only get his answer phone message.

This is the message:

"Hello, this is Darren Twatface (or similar), of [enter high street bank name] Business Bank, on the [enter that specific day's date]. I am currently unavailable, but if you leave a message I will make sure to return your call within 3 working hours. Alternatively..." blah blah

I have NEVER received a call back within 3 working days, let alone 3 working hours.

So, basically, every day he takes the time to record a new answer phone message making a promise to call back within 3 working hours. Every day he fails to do so. EVERY DAY HE LIES.
(InflammableHound may be recorded for training porpoises, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 23:15, 2 replies)

Mum's gone to Iceland
Iceland. Row upon row of microwaveable despair. If your mum has gone there, kill her and yourself. It's the only way to be sure.

I worked briefly for Iceland PLC. I was sixteen going on seventeen, and needed to get drunk a lot. My father, ever the pragmatist, took me to his local and introduced me to a staggeringly blubber-ridden golf-tee of a man called Rick. "This," my father proudly announced, "is the manager of Iceland!" Being an obedient little coward, I cooed in false wonder as my insides fucking died. I knew what was coming. "Rick'll sort you out with a job, if you don't fuck up the interview!" laughed father, emphasising the 'fuck' with a matey punch to the shoulder and vigorous, police-trained shake of my neck.
"Ha, yeah. Ok."
Rick looked on, ludicrously top-heavy and grinning with his mouth open. His face said to me, 'I had a shit earlier and didn't quite wipe my arse properly, but I'm ok with that.'
I hated him immediately.

The interview was predictably awkward. Sulky-but-polite teenage prick who secretly thinks he's better than all this, malodourous obese man with sincerely passionate devotion to the retail sector. Somehow I got the job - presumably my father had bought him a lot of pints and he thought I was from good stock. I later found out dad hated him too.

My first day rolled round far quicker than I would have liked. Rick proudly strutted the aisles, acquainting me with Iceland's exciting product range. "We're all about customer focus here," he chuckled at me. His geordie inflection turned the word 'focus' into a glottal stop bete-noire. "Fo-us, fo-us, fo-us! Fo-us!" He'd catch your eye on the shop floor and quickly jab at the corners of his mouth with his index fingers, mouthing 'Smile!' at you.

It was £2.15 an hour for a navy blue t-shirt and as much youthful spite and ineptitude as you could manufacture. We were all idiots there. Being an arrogant little cunt, I prided myself on being reasonably intelligent, but it was amazing how quickly my faculties failed me when it came to remembering which cabinet Mr Brain's Faggots were in. How many Ristorante pizzas could be stacked without jarring the freezer lid open. What the point of 'facing up' was. And at the bleeding edge of this institutional shitness was always Rick. An overweight wave of forced cheeriness and misguided instructions, loathed by staff and customers alike. And his world was soon to crumble in a pathetically unremarkable way.

The shop was bad, and complaints began to pile up. Absent products, a mulch-covered carpark, poor service ... everything was a target. One customer claimed that I scanned goods too fast. My friend's quiet singing was interpreted as ugly swearing. Nothing could go right in those walls; it was an unfortunate place where few wanted to be, and eventually the inevitable happened - the area manager arrived, full of Serious Business, and Rick's door was closed all morning.

Rick came out of that meeting red-faced, red-eyed, mopping at his face and forehead. Poor Rick. No more staff discount on those two-litres of Blackthorn. No more office toilet on which to while away those stale mornings. Pitifully, he insisted on each member of staff coming to his office for an individual goodbye. My co-workers streamed in slowly and out quickly, rolling their eyes and squirming, their lives untouched. My turn came. Rick sat behind his desk, still grinning.
"Well, goodbye then young man."
"Yeah, um, yes. Goodbye Rick. Urm, all the best."
"All the best. All the best."
"Ok. Goodbye."
After a moment's silence I turned to leave. Then Rick spoke again:

"By the way ..."

I stopped. "Yes?"

Rick looked at me with tears in his eyes. He choked back a sob.
"I'm ... I'm not a bastard."

I nodded and left.

Stay in school, kids.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 22:38, 9 replies)

ASDA
maybe it's other supermarkets, I don't know, but all their tobacco products are behind wooden shutters you can't see through and there is a pub style price list on the counter. so if for example, you wanted to know what you can afford you have to look at this A4 chart and find out what you can buy, then ask, then wait while the flustered staff turn round not knowing where anything is to find your product, which they can't find due to the shutters, which has no price on the shelf, as it is on the little price guide only the person at the front can see, so no chance of working out change in the queue like normal. after a 15 minute!!? wait you get the thing that being a nicotine drug addict you will wait for anyway so this entire exercise is pointless, so what is the bloody reason for this?
(robneymcplum spiced up his life on, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 21:35, 7 replies)

Corporate Reorganisations.
Not for a company I worked for but an ex-colleague swears that this is true.

The company he was working for was going through one of those reorganisations that corporations like to do on a regular basis to justify the existence of certain middle managers.

The manager in charge of this was both incompetent and lazy and passed the reorganisation work onto his underlings, including the powerpoint presentations but taking all the credit for his hard work even though he wasn't even reading the reports, just passing them off as his own and claiming overtime for all the extra work he was putting in.


Anyway, the minions decided to organise the company into Business Units, each with its own manager.

The piece de resistance was with the naming of the units themselves with Computer Unit: Northern Territories.

The manger went to the reorganisation meeting with a powerpoint presentation reading John Smith: BUM CUNT.

Bit of a bugger considering that John Smith was his manager. Of course he tried claiming that it was his team who'd done it, forgetting that he'd put in expenses claims for doing the work himself.
(azgiles, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 20:32, 2 replies)

I knew a bank
that made a profit. The idiots missed out on a bailout.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 19:37, 3 replies)

Purse Strings
I was talking to the maintenance manager of a company recently who told me this story.

The company has a very large warehouse used for storage. Warehouse has approx 400 large lamps. The light fittings are about 20 years old. The lamps cost £X and last about a year. The lamps are inefficient and cost £Y a year to run.

If they invested £300k, they could have all the lights replaced with modern, energy efficient ones. And from his calculations, would save approx £200k on their annual electricity bill, therefore pay for themselves in 18 months.

He took these quotes/findings to his superiors 2 years ago. The lights have not been replaced.

Madness.
(Frample Tromwibbler climbs an obstacle like old people fuck, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 19:27, 3 replies)

Breaking the law to break even.
A while ago, my agency sent me to a job for XYZ plc delivering cigarettes in a small HGV. Each vehicle could hold 450 boxes. Unfortunately, I found out (through sheer luck) that the legal weight was achieved at 280 boxes.

So every morning for a week, this happens: find vehicle overloaded, insist on load reduction, refusal, take to weighbridge, come back and get load reduced, back to weighbridge because an overload ticket without recheck will get us arrested. Each weigh-in costs £10 in cash.

End of the week, some manager from XYZ rings up and sacks me. The fact that I don't work for him seems to go over his head. The reason he gives is that "you have interfered with profitability". Apparently, the vehicles didn't make a profit until the load reached 400 boxes. Oops.

No worries, the agency find me something else. 3 months later, XYZ lose the contract. Not only did they lose money, but the manager's cousin took out £200,000 worth of fags one morning and never came back.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 19:16, 3 replies)

Upper Echelon Managers +IT = Fuckwittery.
This morning I finally found out why the IT systems for the entire department - and entire building in fact - have been limping along like a three legged tortoise for the past month.
Somebody made the mistake of showing one of the head office numpties how much server capacity we had. And he promptly ordered it cut by 75%.
Hopefully somebody will give the guy a pop up book explaining what a server actually is and why we need so much of it.
(Big D, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 19:09, Reply)

Phone Company
Have you ever had really great service from one of these companies, only to find out that they are idiots? In the states I took out a contract with a phone company - it was only $30 a month, but it included internet etc, so I was fairly happy with it.

Suddenly the internet stopped working on my phone for two weeks. I contacted the phone company to find out the problem. They said that the problem was their end, it has now been fixed, and they would refund me $30 for that month. What great service I though, just as I was about to hang up.

It was at this point that the guy on the phone said something so ridiculously stupid that I almost couldn't believe it. "Ah sir," he said, "because we refunded you $30, the system says you haven't paid for this month and therefore your phone has been deactivated." That's right. They deactivated my phone because they gave me a refund.

After a while of trying to explain this to the moron on the phone, I decided I would just pay the money back so I could use my phone. So I pay them the refund they just gave to me. "Thank you sir," phone idiot says, "but because you haven't paid your monthly bill until now, your phone will not work for the next 48 hours." So instead of receiving a $30 refund, I had lost the use of my phone for 48 hours. Twats.
(slickback, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 18:31, 1 reply)

The 'biflicated rivet'.
Back in the mists of time when I was an apprentice at a large engineering company whose name rhymed with Polls Poyce which made Gas Turbines, it came to pass that I had to do a stint of training in the stores.
Now, in the seventies, the stores were dark labyrinthine places populated with arse-chewingly pedantic fuckwits who delighted in sending requests for parts back marked 'incorrect part number/issue date/spelling/aftershave/bloodgroup' etc. It was known as 'The production prevention department' and its denizens were universally hated.
One day I was asked to get a pack of 'Biflicated rivets' from a location in the stores. The rivets were in a tote bin which had the part number and the words 'Biflicated rivets' handwritten on a yellowing tag. Having collected the package, I noted that the minimum stock level had been reached so I dutifully reported this to the manager. He then looked through his card index box to find the supplier so he could order some more - it had been so long between orders that the company was no longer in existence. This meant that the dreaded 'offer to supply' documentation had to be filled out - it was, with the material spec, the order amount etc etc and these were sent to the approved suppliers.
All but one declined to supply.
The one that did accept the offer sent one of their engineers over to dot I's & cross T's. I was in the meeting where the stores manager looked over the offer and said sniffily "It'd be ok but you're quoting the wrong thing"
"How so"? asked the engineer
"It specifically states BIFLICATED rivets on the offer to supply and you're offering BIFURCATED rivets"
"Hmm, if you look at the drawing you'll see that we are offering the same thing and......"
The manager turned purple "IF I SAY I WANT BIFLICATED RIVETS I WANT FUCKING BIFLICATED RIVETS"
The engineer rolled his eyes and said he'd "look into it"

The very next day the 'new' quote and drawings came back with the word 'bifurcated' replaced by 'biflicated' - and the price inflated by 1000%.
As I recall, the manager was well pleased with his 'victory'.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 17:53, 4 replies)

Vodafone
I had to use a Vodafone PAYG mobile last year. First top up went fine. Second one wouldn't work, by phone or online. I was told to call their customer services department.

So I called their customer services department, to get an automatic message saying that I needed to top up before I could speak to them.

Turns out there is a completely undocumented limit of £30 per month top ups from any one card to any one Vodafone mobile, just in case you were wondering.
(ubergeekian, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 17:30, 2 replies)

Cold Caller fun
It's only loosely related, and it's too easy a target really, but I fielded a call the other day that went as follows:

~Telephone rings~

Me: Hello?

Woman with Indian Accent: Hello Mr Ousgg, my name is Julie* from PC Solutions**. I am calling about your computer. We have received an error message saying you have a virus.

Me: Oh dear. We'd better fix...

WwIA: We can fix your problem and help you scan your PC.

Me: Excellent. OK. Before you do, could you just confirm my IP address for me?

WwIA: What?

Me: My IP address.

WwIA: Your address is 14 Station Rd...***

Me: No. Not my home address. My IP address.

WwIA: I don't understand.

Me: You have received some data from my PC, right?

WwIA: Yes, we have received an error message saying you have a virus. We can help...

Me: Yes. If you have received data and you know it's from me, then you must have my IP address****

WwIA: ~Long Pause, paper rustles extensively~

Me: Hello?

WwIA: Hello, Mr Ousgg, my name is Julie from PC Solutions...

Me: Yes, you've told me all this#

WwIA: I'm calling about your computer...

~At this point I put the phone down, open a bag of crisps##, and wait patiently.~

WwIA: ...can you see your computer now?

Me: ~having finished crisps~ Yes, but I'm not letting you do anything to it until you confirm my IP address.

WwIA: Your address is 14 Station Rd...

Me: Not my home address. My IP address.

WwIA: Your address is SW15 4...

Me: Not my postcode. My IP address.

WwIA: Oh! Just one minute, sir.###

WwIA: ~sotto voce, to Boss~ What is... "IP Adress"?

Boss: ~sotto voce, to WwIA~ IP Address is his network location####. Let me take the call, Anjum!#####

Boss: ~to me~ Hello, this is Derek+ from PC Solutions...

~I go and get another bag of crisps and we cycle round much the same conversation~

Boss: I can confirm your IP Address is 192.168.127.101++

Me: Well, that would be my Internal LAN IP, yes. So which part of my network are you connected to?

Boss: BEEEEEEEEEEEEP

I must teach my wife to do this as well.

----

* Why do they do this? Who do they think they're fooling? Do they assume we're all racist because we won't talk to women called Anjum or Madhur?

** Or some other singularly unoriginal bullshit company name.

*** This is not my actual address. I had to change that to stop Amorous Badger poking shit through my letterbox.

**** Note how the conversation has switched from her interrupting me to vice versa. Very important for dealing with prats from Madras pretending to be prats from PC World.

# Daft bat has lost her place in the script and decides to start again, That'll help.

## Walkers' Roast Chicken, if you must know

### At this point I'm having slightly small kittens just in case she does come back with a relevant string of digits, but not to fear...

#### I was marginally impressed at this point

##### See! I knew it!

+ Really???!!!

++ Again, I'm ever so slightly impressed by this man's capacity for utter bullshit in the name of trying to install data harvest software onto my PC.
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 17:26, 17 replies)

Way back in the Seventies
In the late 70's ie before the internet, ordering concert tickets involved sending a cheque in an envelope off to the ticket office.

Saw a gig advertised, as it was the late 70's so it was probably a band of poodle haired, spandex clad rockers (like the Nolans) and waited for the tickets by return mail.

Over a week later a letter arrived with a second class stamp on it informing me that as I didn't enclose a stamped, addressed envelope they couldn't reply to me.

They surely had a point but as the letter was sent back and they paid to post it.....
(Barnetboy, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 16:56, Reply)

TV detector van..
Few days after moving into a new flat I go home from work to find a card had been put through the door from the TV license people. Telling me they had called round and detected that a television was being used at that address and they had no record of a license for said address. They were correct, just moved in had not had chance to get a license. Their detection equipment must be good since the televison was in a box and being used to support a box of kitchen utensils and a pot plant.
(standard deviant, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 16:50, 9 replies)

Happy Birthday / new pet gerbil / catching the bad aids / whatever…LEAVE ME ALONE!...

Rant alert.

I realise that this post will not exactly cover me in glory. I am also aware that it’s only a tenuous link at best to corporate idiocy, as it is the general workforce and not any ‘Corporation’ per se that I consider at fault here. However, I can stay silent no longer.

The office that I work in is quite large – there are a few hundred people here. To put it another way, it’s just the exact right amount of people to result in there being some sort of daily ‘event’ …that requires the inevitable whip-round and the subsequent, oh-so-hilarious comments on some fucking flowery oversized card that will be chucked away within five minutes.

‘You’ve had a baby!’ – that’s wonderful, I get it, jog on. ‘You’re sitting in a bath of beans for charity?’ – hilarious… good on you , now move along. ‘Oh, your twice-removed auntie Hilda has vet bills mounting for her limping tortoise?’… - Deepest sympathies…now please piss the cunt off.

I don’t think ‘desensitisation’ is quite the correct word here, but I hope you get what I mean. My once proud spirit of generosity has slowly been reduced to a mere cynical sneer when I am approached by constant requests for me to put my hand in my pocket and drain my precious beer fund just so I can contribute towards some random bollocks that is happening to some useless twunt that I probably don’t even know.

I understand…I disgust you. I’m tighter than a crabs’ arse at a thousand fathoms. Don’t get me wrong here, I realise that I’m not going to be up for the Nobel peace prize anytime soon – yet at this moment in time I don’t care.

Take your begging and fuck right off.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 16:25, 13 replies)

Nottingham has a rather famous history.
Robin Hood has been a legendary figure for centuries, a number of stories that were written in times long past have since been turned into cinematic masterpieces featuring the likes of Kevin Costner, Errol Flynn, the Australian bloke whose name escapes me, an animated fox, various forgettable television actors and Cary Elwes.

For as long as I could remember, the City of Nottingham was represented by the incorporation of Robin Hood into the logo on promotional material, some bright spark decided that they wanted a different approach and they referred the matter to consultants to change the logo as a result.

It makes you wonder what could be more iconic than a centuries old legend with world-wide fame and exposure all over the fucking place.

This is what the Councils consultants came up with: -

tinyurl.com/7l7ahem

£125,000.00.

They're ditching it.
( Muns, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 14:55, 19 replies)

Tried to buy a prepaid SIM card from Vodafone (in Spain).
This story reminded me of this situation: b3ta.com/questions/corporateidiocy/post1540438

Sounds simple... except it's not. Went into the store, waited a while until the queue died down, then made a simple request. The salesperson couldn't register it because her computer had lost its internet connection. The other salesperson at the other desk had no interest in helping. After waiting about 15 minutes, we left.

Still don't have a SIM card from them. I think it's for the best (and they're too expensive anyway). But you'd think this huge telecoms company would be able to, I dunno, set up a basic LAN...
(Treeki, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 14:36, 4 replies)

We keep getting little cards through the letterbox
...telling us that the gas meter reading guy called to read the meter, but we were out, could we ring to rearrange?

No.

We keep getting gas bills, based on the estimated reading, the last one was red. Will we please pay or let them know why we can't?

No.

Why? Because I've tried ringing them to explain that our flat has no gas supply, and the 'estimated' bills are for zero pounds - actually a pretty damned good estimate.

I'm tempted to arrange a visit from the meter guy, just so that I can follow him round.

And why do we keep getting them? Why can't I cancel the account? Because I'm not the account holder, that's my landlord.

I might send them a cheque for zero pounds in reply to the next bill.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 14:25, 8 replies)

My new car insurance documents...
For some reason Admiral (for it is they) saw fit to put a note on the bottom of my insurance certificate to the effect of:

"Please read this form from left to right"

Lord give me strength!
(GoodLord doesn't have time for sigs., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 13:08, 1 reply)

Cable
[Wavy lines, back to a time before human memory, when Cabletel still existed...]

Part 1: Cabletel guy on doorstep - "Can we put a cabinet abutting your land? If you say yes, we'll connect you for free and give you 6 months at half price." "No skin off my nose, knock yourself out." "Here's a letter confirming all of that." "Thanks." [Drilling commences immediately, shiny green cabinet installed.]

[Many moons wax and wane. Crickets chirp. Tumbleweed tumbles. Birds crap on shiny cabinet.]

Part 2: Leaflet: "Cabletel have been taken over by Virgin. Ring this number to get broadband now!" [Rings] "Hello Virgin, can I sign up?" "No, your address isn't in a covered area." "But I'm right next to a cabinet." "Not covered, computer says no, you'll have to write. Bye."

Part 3: "Dear Virgin, here's a copy of my letter from Cabletel, please connect me." "Dear Mr. Systems, [Paraphrased] That was then, this is now. Fuck off."

Part 4: "Dear Virgin, since you don't seem to have inherited any obligations from Cabletel, neither have I. I hereby revoke my permission. Please remove your cabinet." [Rings] "Oh. How about we connect you next Tuesday?" "Thanks very much. That wasn't difficult, was it?"
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 13:07, 6 replies)

Full stops
Thankfully, I don't pay my gas bill by direct debit. It's "thankfully" because one quarter my bill shot up from the usual £150 or so to about £1000.

In an absolute panic, I phoned the provider and spoke to a nice lady who, agreeing that it seemed very odd, advised me to check the meter.

Turns out the employee they'd sent out to read the meters on their behalf didn't know what a decimal point was, and had recorded the two red double digits after the point on the end of meter as being part of the main number.
(MattDP (Squiggle), Fri 24 Feb 2012, 13:02, 1 reply)

Over the past several years, I've had a few emails, requesting I reply ASAP.
By fax. Does the toolbar icon "REPLY" not give you a hint?
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 13:00, 2 replies)

'Blue Sky Thinking'...

I could cheerfully recite quite a few examples of times when I have been properly shafted by corporate cuntishness (I’m in the middle of a dispute with a company as we speak.) However, for a change I thought I’d just leave this list here of pretty much everything I hate about modern corporate culture…


The robotic voices that answer our calls
And make life as fun as a kick in the balls
‘Security questions’ each place that I go
Taking 26 passwords to just say ‘hello’

The Jobsworths and policies make me so tense
With their stubborn refusal to listen to sense
If they had a brain they’d know things were amiss
But they ‘don’t make the rules’, and it boils my piss.

The skilled employees who are losing their jobs
While the ‘senior managers’ fiddle with knobs
The money that’s spunked on those ‘team building games’
and the call centre 'forriners' with fake English names

The wankers whose only concern is the ‘sale’
Before they hand over to ‘team epic fail’
Consultancies costing us squillions of dosh
To botch up shite logos that look like old Tosh

Big corporate bonuses backslap away
While blame culture vultures will shaft you next day
Buzzwords and catchphrases hide the inept.
By the carpet where insider scandals are swept

When I think about it, I just can't believe
How some companies guess that we’re all so naive
When all is considered it’s not very hard...

Just give us respect …don’t be a fucktard.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 12:41, 5 replies)

Amplifiers not going up to 11 always seemed stupid to me too.
Perfectly logical IMHO.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 12:33, 4 replies)