Cribbage, lovely cribbage.
Some years ago, my agency sent me to a temporary warehouse set up to handle Christmas overflow for a major super market. It was 30 miles away, and they paid 50p per mile each way.

Every morning was the same: clock on at 0400 to find the load wasn't ready. Play cribbage. When it appeared, usually up 6 hours late, it would be impossible to do as it would put me over my permitted hours. Clock off, go round my MILs, who lived 700 yards away, and help with decorating.

Three months. In all that time, I took out 6 loads. One was a single box of peanuts. In a 40 foot trailer. To Sunderland, a round trip of 360 miles.

The day the warehouse closed the staff were all issued with new uniforms at 0600, and called into the canteen and sacked en masse at 1100 (remember, this is just before Xmas). By the time the site closed at 1300, 1500 gallons of diesel had gone missing and the managers' cars had all been repeatedly keyed.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Fri 10 Sep 2010, 11:58, Reply)