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This is a question Greed

Buzzkillington says: "I once worked for Pizza Hut... Whats the the worst thing you've ever done for money?" And while we're here, tell us about greedy people you know. Money or pie, it doesn't matter.

(, Thu 14 Apr 2011, 16:30)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Strangely enough
Worked for Pizza Hut.
But worse than that, door-to-door sales.
And even worse than that, telephone cold-calling.

Why yes, I am the bastard you are looking for.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 15:52, 5 replies)
My missus is a teacher..
and thus is bribed / given presents at the end of each school year and Christmas time by the parents of the children in her form class.

Most of it is chocolate and wine. It goes in our food cupboard. For about 2 minutes.

Doesn't matter how many times I'm told off for eating her chocolates. I don't even like chocolate that much, it's usually just out of boredom / attraction to shiny wrappers.

I will do it again, and again. For I am a greedy bastard.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 15:50, Reply)
I've just drunk almost a litre
of orange juice in about 15 mins.

I think I'll go put the toilet roll in the fridge for later as I think I'm going to be cursing the tasty citrus goodness.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 15:14, Reply)
there's no such thing as bisexual, it's just plain greed.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 14:24, 53 replies)
A Star Trek Christmas
Back when I was a teen I was a shameful trekkie. When I say shameful I mean it. I had an actual billboard packed away in the shed. I had an insatiable hunger for all things trek. Something like 50 tapes of BBC2 deep space nine still reside in my parents cupboards.

But they gather dust. All because of "that" christmas. The one were all my family members, grandparents and all, knew they had the perfect christmas present for me. I was excited and happy at first. Each toy new and unique to my huge trek collection, box sets and motion pictures, the lot. But when it came to my final present (a enterprise d with mini bridge and figurines) it struck.

I looked around the room. My brother playing with his RC car and nerf gun. And my pile of Trek merchandise. A really big pile of Trek merchandise. I cried. And I cried. And I cried. It was like getting so drunk you finally got sober again. Everything was locked away. I got a small present to make up but more so I think to encourage my break away from my obsession.

I now read Iain M Banks and plan on having my brain frozen. Much more mature.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 14:00, 17 replies)
Some people are so greedy for attention that they become tragically obsessed.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 13:52, 23 replies)
Cheeseburger Challenge....
Pissed as a fart....been drinking since 10 in the morning...had the munchies of biblical proportions....passing McDonalds...challenged mates to a Cheeseburger Challenge!

Whoever can eat the most cheeseburgers wins, 12 burgers later I won!

Later on I lost the title and most of the burgers in a yellow and brown shower of undigested cheese and meat byproducts :(
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 13:30, 2 replies)
'So what should we get your daddy, eh?' said Mummy, a small snotty child dangling off her like an over-excited tumour.

'I wants to buy him a weeeally big bar of chocolate!' I said, in the painfully over-excited, cute way that attracted random grannies going 'Ahh, the little love'.

You know, I'd quite like to hop in a time machine, go back, and give my nauseating little face a good hard slap. I'd so have had it coming; the little obsequious, toadying con-artist rat-bastard that I was. But anyway:

The slab of chocolate was duly purchased, resplendent in wonderful sparkling violet-purple foils. And duly hidden away for a good father's day surprise.

In the cupboard, in my room. Within arms reach.

Well, of *course* I bloody did!

I was a bratling, greedy, and - lets face it - the subject of this QoTW would make it rather strange if I had done anything else, no? I swear that chocolate bar got bigger every time my saucer-like eyes looked at it, and I looked at it a lot, let me tell you. I polished it with my eyeballs every spare second. A week of torture followed as I tried to resist:

Just one more look. So shiny. So chocolatey. So big. So NAUGHTY. I'm just going to... sniff it for a bit. Thats ok, right? And maybe lick the foil. Oh no, I've bitten down! I've left teeth marks! I didn't mean to. Oh no, oh no, I've pierced the foil, oh no, I can taste.... Oh gods.

Well, its a very BIG bar of chocolate - daddy won't miss a bit off the corner. Just a little nibble. I'll bite it all neat and fold up the foil again - he'll never notice its a bit shorter. Because its so big.

Oh god I CAN'T STOP EATING! There's foil everywhere! Its tangled in my hair! My little fists are sticky with chocolate. Nooo!

I writhe in shame and guilt. I feel really quite sick. What can I do? I'm too young to get out on my own so I can't replace it - and I can't bring myself to confess to mummy. But wait! My sister bought daddy chocolate too, and she's a big meanie and I know where she hid it and she's outside and she won't notice and I'm sure its her fault somehow anyway and no-one will know if I just- steal it.

Wow! If anything, my sister's gift is even bigger than the one I had! A triumphant brick of a bar. So heavy. Really big!

...I wonder what it smells like?

If I died tomorrow, my family would have my gravestone read: "Here lies WaxChewer. He ate all the father's day chocolate. The whole lot. On the eve of the day itself, even though it made him feel sick and half of it was his sister's gift to his dad."

Sadly, the filial taunting has not strengthened my will-power with regard to chocolate. I'm still a rampant chocy thief, but even worse - and I daren't confess it to them - no chocolate has EVER tasted as nice as those two bars. Gods I'd so fucking steal them again, you bet your arsehole, oh hell yes!
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 13:03, 5 replies)
Is it greedy to have two girlfriends...
At the same time?
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:55, 22 replies)
Softball @ School
I was the last to take a swing, and we were losing by a run. Hollywood has taught me that such moments require crystal clear thinking, grace under pressure and a good fucking belter of a shot.

Wayne was on 1st base, and as long as he got to 4th we were winners. Easy.

I swung and missed my 1st, but the second connected and was flying far across the astroturf! Boom! I've won us the game :-D

We were both haring around the bases, Wayne with his head start was closing in on 4th! Our team mates were going wild! I was closing in on 3rd when everyone was shouting to stop, there was no need to finish. I couldnt hear them for the cheering in my head (ignored them i mean), I passed 3rd and I was suddenly ripped from the teat of glory and cast into the harsh, bitter reality of the ball traversing to the fielder on 4th....

We didnt win :-(
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:46, Reply)
Killer crisps and zombie chicken
Years ago I worked in an office where we got paid little and drank a lot. This didn't leave much disposable cash for rent or food, so we all lived in hovels and scavenged whateer sustenance we could. Once upon a time, and for complicated reasons, we took delivery of several pallets of Flamin' Hot Monster Munch with nowhere to go. This was a brand new invention in them days, and we all tucked in to this trendy new snack with gusto.

But there was something strange about them. Something none of us could put out collective finger on. It was while opening my fifth or ninth packet of the morning one day when I realised what it was – they smell like spunky tissues. Seriously, go and buy a pack now, and inhale the air from the bag. Go on. I'll wait.

See? Spunky tissues. Obviously, I couldn't wait to share my eureka moment, yelling 'spunky tissues!' across the office. Needless to say, once I explained the nuances of my Unified Monster Munch-Jizzrag Theory, this put people off eating Flamin' Hot Monster Munch after that (the office was a regular sausage farm with a somewhat homophobic atmosphere).
Me and one other guy continued to live on the remaining boxes and boxes of the not-especially-monstrous snacks until they were well past date, despite someone making a joke about us liking eating spunky tissues every single time we opened a pack. And now every time I wank, I want a bag of crisps.

A few months after that, we had some new computers delivered. I thought tthe plastic chips they were packed with looked like Wotsits, but everyone said they were plastic. So I ate one. It tasted like an unflavoured Wotsit. So i ate a load more. Again, I lived off those for at least a fortnight, grabbing a handful whenever I got peckish at my desk. I wouldn't allow the handyman to take away the box because he was 'stealing the food out of my mouth'.
Nowadays, I'm pretty sure they will have chemically treated those packing Wotsits to make them safe for computers, so Zod knows what hilarious effects I'll experience in the future. I've got my money on 'beneficial mutations' and I'd rather no one told me any different.

We also used to eat Popcorn Chicken – not the nice meat-y stuff you get now, but all the bits of Colonel-coated gizzard and connective tissue and eye you used to get when they first tried it in the UK. It cost something like £1.50 for a big box full, and even though we were clinically malnourished, it was A BIg Deal when one of us (me again) actually finished the whole thing.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:45, 3 replies)
Odd Jack
I occasionally work with a charity and one of the regular volunteers is quite a fixture there. Bit odd, dropped on his head or whatnot, sweet old thing, but a bit greedy when it comes to snacks. We’re all told not to leave sweets laying about unless we intend to share.

One day I was asked to clean the kitchen, and throw out all the food, including the meat pies from the last week’s staff meeting. Tsk, a half-dozen pies from one of the best shops in town. I duly binned the whole lot, brightly-colored take away box and all.

Finished cleaning, said hello to Odd Jack, coming to make some tea. I went to put up the cleaning supplies, fussed about straightening things, then walked back to the kitchen several minutes later. And there was Odd Jack, just leaving, both cheeks puffed out and a –well, odd—expression on his face.

I got halfway across the kitchen and stopped. No. Spun around on one foot. Walked to the bin. Peered in. Gingerly tipped open the takeaway box, wailing in my head, No no no! Odd Jack, you did NOT just eat six old meat pies from the dust bin!

Indeed. He must have stuffed two in his jowls and pocketed the remainder. Cheeky bastard.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:42, 7 replies)
Hacking the company payroll to find out how much everyone was earning.. Twice. Allegedly.
In both cases it was apparent that my older but less experienced colleagues were clearly earning a LOT more than I was for doing the same job.

The first time some new guy had come in to the company on an inflated salary and it became apparent he didn't know his arse from his elbow. I confronted my boss and told him I knew exactly how much 'Nobby' was earning. When he narrowed his eyes and asked 'how?' I lied that he'd moaned about how much tax he'd paid that month and I'd done the maths to calculate his income.

Even though I knew to the penny how much this guy earned my boss denied it. I still got a £2k payrise from it though.

The second time (at the same company, damn their payroll security sucked) I found out that a colleague was earning a lot more than I was but I had a dilemma. I wanted the lovely salary increase but really really needed to keep my job and didn't want to start going and making ultimatums.

My best man came up with the plan one drunken night.

I simply went in to my boss, theatrically wringing my hands with concern, and told him that I had a dilemma. I'd loved my current job so much I had never applied for any other job, but I'd been head-hunted and had a job offer I could hardly refuse due to the amount of money they were offering.

I knew the company couldn't do without me and that netted me 5k payrise and a token promotion to justify the rise without upsetting my line manager.

Hmm. Looking back I don't think I've ever netted an inflation busting payrise without lying through my teeth. Woo.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:41, 6 replies)
For amazing displays of food related greed I would like to mention my hygienically challenged ex housemate Rob.

A few select examples are:

i) Leaving any nightclub an hour earlier than everyone else so he could visit 3 or 4 alternate greasy takeaways before meeting us for a kebab before taxi ride home.

ii) One mothers day he went to Meadowhall to buy her something nice and opted to buy her a giant cookie from Cookie Jar. He had to pop back and buy another two times as he decided to snack on the present while we were wandering around the other shops (The sad thing is that we weren’t there long and had been for something to eat too).

iii) And in my opinion his greatest example of fat- bastardry (is there such a word?) was what he called his food crawls. The food crawl was very much like a pub crawl……but with takeaway joints. His favourite was at the retail park outside of Wakefield where he could fit in a round at KFC, Burger King Macdonalds and then meet up with me and a few mates before going to Pizza hut (The last time I mentioned this to him he was a little pissed off at the fact that Burgeer King had become a Subway so he had to order more when he called at Mcdonalds).

I could go on with more but just mentioning this has brought back memories of the stench he used to leave in the bathroom (no wonder I go through a hell of a lot less air freshener these days).

Before I do bugger off I remembered something I once said to him as a joke.

Me: Rob aren’t the guys in the Chinese takeaway confused when you go in and order? It sounds like you are playing hide and seek (I then count from 1 to 10)

Rob: Nah they no longer have a number 4 or 7 on the board and I always say the usual now.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:32, 6 replies)
I've done telesales for money, and absolutely despised it, but I wouldn't call that greed, as such. I just had this massive preference for not starving.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:13, Reply)
Asking me to take the baking bread out of the oven when it's ready and to leave it to cool in preparation for the dinner party is not a good idea
If you get the impression that I might be quite stoned.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 12:06, 1 reply)
Monkeystrumpet reminded me
I have coerced a friend into a couple of food challenges.

The first was one of those supermarket brand 4-in-1 dips (Onion & Garlic, Sour Cream & Chive, horrible one with tiny bits of cheese, and Mexican I believe). He was challenged to eat the whole thing, using only his fingers. This was about 4 in the morning as the party was winding down. He managed almost all of the first three although I had to disqualify him as the majority of it landed on his crotch.

The second was to eat 7 meringues in 4 minutes, without a drink (there were 8 in the packet but I was hungry and had to test the water, so to speak.) He managed this in roughly 3 minutes 40seconds and despite watching him I still have no idea how.
It took me 2 minutes 45 seconds to eat my single nest.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:58, 4 replies)
My worst job
Before the start of my last term at Brighton Poly, I had a string of temp jobs over the summer down there.

The first two weeks were ok - night shifts changing backup tapes around in the American Express data centre there, complete with a fresh ground coffee vending machine - big hopper of beans on the top, put your 5p in (in 1988) and get the lovely fresh coffee out, which helped me to stay awake.

That finished, and the next job was working as a night security guard for a big trade fair they had down there. Not bad in itself, but the shifts were long. Seventeen hours long - from half four (so whichever stand you were sitting that night could breif you on any special requirements before they all packed up at five) until half nine the following morning (to give them time to all get to their stands after their arduous hospitality drinking the night before).

I was a skint student, so the only way I had to get to my dingy little shared flat in Whitehawk Road was shanks' pony - about 20 minutes each way. Leaving me about six hours a day in which to buy food, eat it, shower, change, and sleep.

The conference, and therefore the job lasted two weeks, with no breaks. By the end I had lost over a stone - there was nothing to eat or drink except the complimentary peanuts or crisps some of the stands gave out to visitors - and was starting to hallucinate from the sleep deprivation.

Never ever again.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:48, 1 reply)
I went through a phase of drinking pints of Baileys a couple of years ago. I try not to think about what the sheer calorific intake must have been per pint.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:30, 3 replies)

Too much pi?
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:23, Reply)
It's easy to distract fat people. It's a piece of cake.
- David Baddiel
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:13, 3 replies)
The day
I bought a pint of cream on the way home from school instead of milk. It was lovely going in but after a half hour waiting for the train I was a green mess groaning on the floor. Worst train ride ever but thanks to my stomach evicting the offending cream meant i didn't suffer alone.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:01, 1 reply)
Scrumping fruit for a summer
As a young teenager and then selling it to other neighbours. Both the worst job and most greedy.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:01, Reply)
I watched the entire "Friends" collection in exchange for sex and drugs
It really messes with your headwhen your gf keeps asking you to say "how you doing?" in a shitty retarded accent.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 10:56, 4 replies)
I think I might get my moat cleaned.

(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 10:39, 10 replies)
A pea
I was in a Netto-a-like shop when I saw a good deal. Ten packs of three chocolate bars for a quid. "I'm having those" I thought.
They were about the size of a Penguin/Club/Rocky biscuit and were yummy.

I must've ploughed through maybe 8 of them that afternoon. It was then that Mrs Sandettie pointed out that they were sugar free 'Candarel Bars'. I didn't care. For sugar-free they were rather tasty.

Then my guts started gurgling. Shortly after that, my bowels starting moving. Well, I say moving. It was more like sprinting. I sat on the toilet, passing rusty water from my arse which was so thin it actually sounded like I was taking a piss.

I visited that room 6 times in all. Later that evening, my mate came round and found it most amusing that I had to sit on a rolled up duvet because I had a arse like a brakelight.

Don't OD on sorbitol or aspartame, it'll fuck you over for days.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 10:32, 9 replies)
Ay thank you
I had an argument with my girlfriend the other day. She said that I should stop calling her a fat cunt when she eats a full vienetta in one sitting.
I diss her greed.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 10:28, 2 replies)

(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 10:13, 16 replies)
Food Challenges
Me and my mates used to do "Challenges". Everyone often makes throwaway remarks like "oh i love kitkats, i could eat 100 of them", we decided to start holding people to their word.

This gave birth to the "Cheerios Challenge" which was a pint of milk and a whole box of cheerios, in one sitting. My mate ate the cereal no problem but spewed the milk all over.

The "Fruit Pastel Lolly Challenge" was hilarious, same mate said he loved them and could eat 20....so we bought a few boxes. He started eating them normally while we watched spiderman 2, eventually his tongue turned black and he was just biting them to get them down. He begged 2 of us to eat some for him, and failed after about 14. The next day he said his teeth hurt so bad he couldnt do anything without being in agony. He had to eat toast by tearing tiny squares and placing it on his tongue till it was moist enough to swallow.

(I have to add im shaking with stifled mirth just remembering these)

The greatest challenge which has been attempted is now know as the Filous 50 (or Filous 5-0). The challenge is to eat 50 fromage frais in one sitting. The theory is that each pot is "only a big spoon"....

In practice its the worst thing ive ever tried. I ate about 28 before chucking into a bucket. Some have done worse and a few better. My mates swiss cousin did 40odd apparently. Its the consistancy that defeats you, flavours no longer apply as its just slime you're having to force down. I started off showboating by licking the lids, by the end of it i'd even downgraded to a teaspoon.....

Try it with your friends :D

The moral btw is dont fuck with dairy


I remembered another, the "Nice Biscuit Race". My mate said he could eat a pile of nice biscuits the 'height of a small child'. I offered him a head to head instead, we brewed a vat of tea and set about eating as many as we could. Tea was only for washing down, dunking was not allowed. It finished with my mate a biscuit ahead and he was smashing them with his forehead and picking at the crumbs.... good times.
(, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 10:01, 13 replies)

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