Because I can.
I work for a car rental company, whenever I get a customer through the door I just don't like the look of or their attitude I always make sure they are walking away and always find a reason not to rent anything to them, reservation or otherwise. Doesn't benefit me at all other than the smug satisfaction of having fucked someones day up for the sake of it...
(MrJelly, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:14, Reply)

Custard ?
I used to work at Kwik Save for beer money while I was at 6th form. One day a very strange looking old woman pointed at a packet of custard powder on the shelf and asked "Do you sell this ?". After a second or 2, I replied "no, sorry, we don't, try Tesco". I still remember her wandering off without her custard, head drooped in disappointment.
( dogfish, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:01, Reply)

i work part time in a pub after uni
me and the other guy who i work with, deliberatly ID every Chav that comes in, wether they look under 18 or not

works best when there is big groups of them!!



one night there were 3 came to the bar, they spent about 10 mins talking before they ordered, their conversation was about being kicked out of another pub close by for someone reporting them for under age - this guy had ID,

cue me ID'ing him when he asked for drinks, and telling him that histhis picture wasnt him, and that he should leave



yaaaay, no chavs in our pub!!!(except the cook + food carrier - fuckwits)
(VashTheStampede http://www.b3ta.com/features/howtopoachanegg/, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:56, Reply)

Security
at the British motorcycle gp at Donnington.
Last year i could no attend so i went on the friday just to pick up a race program. The bloke in the wally coat(yellow jacket) told me "i need to pay £20 quid to enter", i replied "i only need a program from that counter just there (just yards away)not to watch the racing". he still insisted i need to pay £20 quid to enter,"but i dont want to watch ive come to collect a program you can escort me" "no, cant" so "i said i will give you the money to walk over there to purchase me one", he replied, "it's more than my jobs worth" after i ranted at him, another bloke in a wally coat came over and helped my get the program, on the way out out i told him, "if he tried harder at school he might have got a better job, and did your cousins get married". This proceeded to get him angry he came over (just has planned) to me as my brother walked up behind him and crouched over, so i then pushed him over and we both legged it.
Take that you wally.

Its not about lenght, its the width
(funkie, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:49, Reply)

petty jobsworth
well i work in a pretty lame named cine-ma, and its policy or at least in my one. is to not let chav scum bags in to use the toilet as they probably use em to multiply or take drugs. Anyway on a particulaly dead day my supervisor is stood over the drop box and this heaverly pregnant woman waddles up and asks to use the toilet, he then tells her they are for customers only and tells her very nicely to f**k off. cue a very angry husband asking to see the manager. about 2 mins of confering between the three and the woman waddles off to the toilet. MAnager has a "chat" with supervisor. Next shift i find the twunt has been demoted and now has to clean the toilets every 15 mins.

I will not apologise for length.
(Roland_of_gilead, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:43, Reply)

Heroic Security Guard
First post… Meh!

Leaving a party in a block of flats I accidentally clipped a plastic drainpipe backing out of a parking space. The security guard must have seen in on his CCTV monitor as he came running out frantically waving his arms screaming at me to turn my engine off and get out of the car! Not wishing to cause a scene I did as I was asked and got out to take a look at the “damage”. There was not a scratch on the pipe and the little wall bracket thing that holds it has a very slight crack in it, hardy noticeable. I dismissed the damaged and told the dude not to worry about it, would he accept this? Would he bollocks!

He went crazy, stamping his feet demanding my name, address, credit card details, driving licence and started to ramble on about me causing £££ worth of damage. I could not belive we where looking at the same drainpipe. Alarm bells where going off in my head and I decided giving this guy any personal information was a BAD idea so I just shrugged and started to get back in my car.

To my utter disbelieve the guy (at least a ft shorter than me I might add) positioned himself between me and my car door shouting “Just you try and leave! Just try and leave!!” in a very strong Nigerian accent. At this point I couldn’t contain my amusement any longer and I started to laugh at him. I walked around to the passenger door, the guy followed round on the opposite side of the car. I quickly changed direction to go back to the driver’s door and the guy mirrored my movements. I decided I had enough silliness for one night and marched over to my driver’s door and shoulder barged the guy out of my way…hard. I managed to get my door closed before he could get up and started to reverse out of the space. Now for the best bit, without hesitation the guy runs behind my car and dives down on the floor shouting “Just try and run me over! Just try and run me over!!!!” It was utterly surreal! “So what are you going to do then?” I shouted out of my window “lie there all night?!” He seemed to take this under consideration and realising he had no mobile phone he slowly got up of the floor, “You stay!! I go inside to call police, if you drive off... they arrest you, I have number plate!” he said and ran back inside the building… that was it. I drove off and never head anything about the drainpipe again!

What a Hero!
(Minty Hit, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:40, Reply)

a few years back
I worked as a car park attendant at a famous set of showcaves in somerset as a school holidays job. It was dull, crap and I hated the people who worked there. I was also a raging hormoned teenager and there wasn't EVER any eye candy to keep me entertained. just crappy families. Sigh. The boss, 60 something, was boring, worryingly pervy and seemed rather... gay. He'd been working there for years and years and thought there was an art to parking cars (never before have I seen so many people (about 4 -5 of us) employed to park people in a MARKED car park). I'd spend most of my time fiddling with the walkie talkie and doing as little as possible, usually involving obtaining a nice sun tan.

Because of this man's obsession with the 'art of parking', I used to take great pleasure in doing things in a different order to him; every set of bays had to fill out in the 'correct' order, so I'd purposefully fill them out in a different order, to the point that one day I 'created' extra bays on the end of a line of bays, forcing any coach that came in to have to squeeze by VERY carefully. Following this, of course, visitors started inventing more bays when we weren't looking, to correspond with what I had already made. In the end it was just a total mess. Amazing.

On very busy days (sometimes huge sunny days, sometimes EXTREMELY wet days) we'd have to fill out parking in the field, which usually involved quite a bit of improvised tesselating of cars. I would, of course, invent parking patterns that totally and utterly confused cars coming in.

Follow all this by our other job being picking litter and sorting out the bins, which our boss religiously insisted had to be done perfectly. I would, when leaf sweeping, cut as many corners as possible. It's amazing how many leaves you can just brush really hard and watch them fly away in the wind. Safe.

Finishing off, I used to ask 'why' everytime he asked me to do anything that I thought was pointless and then argue that he was wrong. Needless to say, I was 'let go' early, due to 'budget cuts'. A week later I was doing freelance web development work and earning a hell of a lot more than I ever earnt there. Tadaaaaaaaa.

ALSO: We weren't allowed to wear sunhats, even in the blistering heat. We could wear crappy jeans etc, to match our bright yellow shirts, but sunhats were NOT allowed. I never quite worked out why.
( FinestLittleSpace, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:14, Reply)

Short Time On The Job
At a client I IT contract for, they got a new receptionist. FIFTEEN minutes into the job the CHAIRMAN asks her if should would pop out to the coffee shop next door and get 4 coffees. She replies "That's not in my job description"

Twenty minutes into the job, the dumb bitch hasn't got a job anynore.
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:13, Reply)

not funny, but what the hell
moved to London in 2001, and signed on ("job seeker`s allowance.. for people seeking jobs") whilst I looked for a job

1. the job centre was pissed off that being an I.T. Profeshinaul I wouldn`t take a £3.50 per hour job as a trainee chef

2. they said I could claim jobseeker`s allowance (for people seeking jobs) after filling in their huge wad of paperwork, only for them to tell me I needed another interview

3. turned up for interview.. asked same questions again and again ("no, I can get a job, I just want some money to pay the bills for a few weeks until I find one") and given more paperwork

4. turned up to sign on.. 20 minutes early - place was empty, and yet the stupid bitch at the desk saw fit to tell me off for being early "don`t do it again" - must have caught her off her guard or something

5. told by the employment cunts that I couldn`t claim jobseeker`s allowance, only to receive 4 letters over the next 3 weeks telling me that the jobseeker`s allowance would be stopped if I didn`t sign on - they managed to mis-spell "Richard" on each letter

anyway.. I wrote back to them calling them stupid cunts, asking them if "Richard" was a difficult name to spell and enquiring how they expected not to pay me something they weren`t paying me, and telling them that their future communications were going straight in the bin, signing off with letters after my name (proper ones, not F.U.C.K. C.O.C.K.)


I was very proud of that letter.. but not this post. Maybe I`ll just post the letter ;)
( Reckless_Rik, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:08, Reply)

teacher
we had a loser of a deputy head at school who would officiate pointlessly by sitting next to the proctor and headmaster at assembly. when the gruesome twosome had finished ranting about the latest dumbass school rules and those who broke them - everything from cutting the red and green labels off kickers shoes to having at least six inches of daylight between all pupils at all times - the deputy head's chance to shine would come. he would leap to his feet and say proudly:

"in a moment i shall ask you to stand."

[infinitesimal pause]

"please stand".

wtf? what a bellend!!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 12 May 2005, 11:01, Reply)

Reading Rock
In the early 80's I used to attend the Reading Rock Festival every year. It used to be the highlight of my year, a week of stoned pissed up sex and music - halcyon days.

One year, I forget which, it was absolutely baking hot - real melting Mad Dogs & Englishmen type of weather. Sometime in the early morning I wandered down to the Thames which ran by the camp site and then up to Cavendish bridge and leaned against the parapet and watched the crowds of rockers and hippies enjoying the weather. Then some bright spark had the idea of depth charging the boats passing under the bridge. It was quite a technical operation with a spotter on the other side of the bridge and a team of drunken rockers on the upstream side ready to jump.

As each boat started to go under the bridge, the spotters would indicate where it was likely to emerge and the jumpers would ready them selves in two groups. They'd be over the parapet and hanging onto the guard rail waiting for the boat to emerge and as the prow came out from under the bridge they'd launch themselves in teams of two and land on either side of the boat in the depth charge position. As they surfaced and cleared the jumping area the next pair would jump.

Watching from a few metres away it was really impressive watching these nutters soak every boat passing under the bridge and a large crowd formed on the bridge and on the tow-path to watch their antics. Of course, eventually Plod had to step in and spoil the fun.

About 20 coppers formed up on one side of the bridge and started clearing the bridge and asking everyone to move along under pain of being arrested on whatever trumped up charge they could think of. Eventually they got to me and a fresh faced young sprog of a copper (he looked about 12) told me to remove myself from the bridge immediately.

"What for?" I asked - "I'm not doing any harm"
"'Cos I say so" says Plod "Now move or I'll nick you"
"But I'm not doing anything wrong! I'm enjoying the sunshine in a public place. I'm not drunk and I'm not harming anyone. What grounds do you have to move me on?" says me.
"Look smartarse. I've been told to clear this fucking bridge and that's what I'm going to do. I don't give a shit about what you think - I want you off this bridge, right now, or you're nicked!"
"So if I don't get off this bridge, right now you're going to arrest me? I asked grinning at plod.
"You've finally got the idea into your tiny mind says" copper "Now move"

So with a shit-eating grin flashed at the copper I put both hands on the guard rail and launched myself over the bridge and into the Thames. - A creditable dive even if I do say so myself.

As I surfaced, I looked up at the bridge and could see the copper charging over the bridge and towards the steps that led down to the tow path. The crowd of hippies were jostling and hampering as he ran but the bastard was determined to reach the bank before I did and nick me.

I swam as fast as I could, cutting through the water like a demented epileptic and reached the bank absolutely knackered. As I crawled out, plod was almost at the bottom of the steps and I was too fucked to run. Looks like I'd be spending the rest of the weekend in the cells.

As I staggered to my feet and resigned myself to my fate there was a roar and this trail bike appeared in front of me.
"Jump on mate" Says this greasy biker.
"Way-hey!" yells me and I leapt on the pillion of the bike and we screamed off up the tow path with the copper just missing grabbing my collar by a couple of seconds. Great times.

I remain, as usual,
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:56, Reply)

I take
a great deal of pleasure in telling people that i can't build their new user accounts until the proscribed hour (i.e. 9-10am or 4-5pm), due to the excess strain on our servers (thanks to the already overloaded VLAN they're running on. don't ask).
the sad truth is that i may be slitting my own throat soon, since i'm one of the people pushing to have the servers rebuilt (probably by me) and updated.

this may sound petty, and it is.

so there.
( nowhere.elysium Exploder of cats, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:56, Reply)

Worked in Customer Services for a mail order mobile phone shop.
Never buy your phone from a mail order mobile phone shop. If anything goes wrong, it will probably never be fixed. (Although in fairness that seems to be true of every company's customer support now)
I digress. Most of the callers had legitimate complaints. Some, though, called just trying to blag stuff or because they were the sort who enjoyed complaining. One woman had called a number of times and had really bullied some of the staff. She was ranting about how although she'd never signed up for insurance, she should still be covered and she should get a replacement for the handset she had got wet. Sure enough, the cheque for the insurance she didn't send when she got the phone arrived a few days before she first called in about getting a new phone under the cover. I put a note on the system to transfer her to me when she next called andwhen she did I let her rant, argued with her about whether she should be covered, finally agreed to allow the cover, then told her the terms of the insurance didn't cover water damage. That shut her up. I could imagine blood vessels popping when I told her, "I'm sure worse things happen at sea", before cutting her off.
Length? You probably haven't read this far.
(Scoobs, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:55, Reply)

I
broke my arm once, and wanted a wank. Tried knock one off with other hand but it blatantly refused to polish the old boy.
I looked at the left handed fucker with much disgust imagining it saying something like "not my job that mate, never had the training"
Fucking jobsworth left hand.

Still, it did manage to use the phone so i could call Mrs. Rash to bob round and finish me off.

Every cloud etc.
(nappy rash, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:50, Reply)

car park attendant - newcastle university
I loaded up a BIG van full of stage stuff, amps, speakers, drapes, lights, etc. for a rave at the Uni.

get to the car park round the back, gatekeeper announces 'ya cannit come in heeeya, like' I reply 'it's for the rave tonight', gatekeeper replies 'divvent get stroppy wi me, like'

quite how 'it's for the rave tonight' could be considered stroppy is beyond me but he'd decided his gatekeeper role had to be played out in the fashion of a 1970's trade unionist work to rule stylee and proceeded to do so.

cue about 30 mins of 'so how do I get in ?' 'you need a pass' 'where do I get a pass from' in tha office,like' 'where's the office?' in there but you need a pass to pork before I can let ya in, like'

eventually, I abandoned the van and walked in to get a pass to allow me to unload and according to office staff NO SUCH PASS EXISTED !!!

I walked back to get my BIG van and ignored the now apopoplectic car park attendent and just drove to a suitable unloading area.

all in it took me about 30 minutes to travel 60 yards.

I'll save the tale about the jobsworth in the uni who followed me round for 20 mins saying 'nay staples in wor walls, like, aareeet, am watchin' ya' for later.
(sham-il-eer-tak-tak noes better but still can't give a fuck at, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:49, Reply)

Hehe
During the holidays from uni I work in a Spar store. Being that I've only just turned 19, I still know all the people I was either at school with or were there with my little sister.
To take out the frustration of having to go home to a shit town every holiday, I would ID roughly every fourth person that came in the shop. And more often than not, they would be one of the gits I recognised from school.
Didn't even matter if they'd been in my year and were old enough for fags and booze - if I was in a mood (especially if I was working til 11pm) no one was getting their fix.
(Lizzilla, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:45, Reply)

Barmcake...
thats not grimsby tip is it???

To answer the question - grimsby tip. I drive a pickup truck, not for commercial use or owt like that, but theres a rule at the tip "no building waste in commercial vehicles"

So - i turn up with a double bed to dump - little hitler on the gate says "You can dump the matress but not the base, its made of wood"
"so what" i reply. "woods building waste - no building waste in commercial vehicles". The reply of "its a fucking bed mate" didnt cut any ice, and he watched me as i dumped the matress. I headed to get back in my truck and satisfied he turned his back long enough for me to drag the base out at which point he noticed and i drove off to the sound of him shouting "i told you that you cant dump that - i've got your registration number.."
(Aleister Crowleys Badger Nothing to see here, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:44, Reply)

Icecream Vans
I always turn the music on when we've run out, its protocol, my dad told me.
(woo who?, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:44, Reply)

12!!! woo!
At my last place of work, we had a right jobsworth in charge of payroll.

I'd regularly come in at 5/10 past 9, but I'd usually leave 15/20 minutes late each day (unpaid overtime). I got my wageslip one month and the twunts had docked my wages for the time missed in the morning + not given me my commission for the month (ended up about £100 out of pocket).

After that I came in on time the next week (then went back to being late), and left on time every day afterwards.


There's an interesting story about the same person that I might post later.
( brooza wonders how long a sig can be and if this will fit, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:36, Reply)

Public Transport
Full of bloody jobsworths. The Waterloo and City line at Waterloo, watch as the bloody jobsworths stroll back to the trains after having their union endorsed tea break. If there's a driver short they won't go witout their cup of tea and wank. Train drivers, when a train is really delayed they'll just get out after they've done their hours, even if the train's supposed to go further. At Colchester last year, I even heard the immortal words, 'More than my job's worth mate' when asking one why he couldn't just finish the journey to Norwich, leaving about 100 pissed off people on the platform.
( The Beast can't help looking at womens breasts on the tube, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:35, Reply)

G but no T
Having lived for a while in Japan you encounter a lot of jobsworth type behaviour, more through lack of initiative than any malice/stupidity I found. Anyway, I digress. In a posh bar in Tokyo drinking G&Ts. Tonic bottles are quite big so there's always some left in the bottle. After a couple I asked the waiter just to bring the gin and leave the tonic as I had plenty. Also, could he stop bringing nuts and snacks as they too were piling up.

Apparently not. If the menu says G&T then that is what you get. He also said that it was necessary for him to bring me nuts and snacks at the same time.

This happened over 3 or 4 more rounds of drinks to the extent that the table was full of unfinished tonic & partially eaten nuts. It wasn't even a question of price as it was all the same whether with nuts, with tonic or not. Despite every effort to give him back the tonic and nuts each time I was told that it says G&T on the menu and that was what I must have. He was very nice about it though.
(Gusofnavarone always makes a map of france from sarnies, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:31, Reply)

Before Burberry.
A while back I was working in an offie in High Wycombe. A Vauxhall Nova pulls up, in all it's chavved up glory, and out gets it's driver and his younger girlfriend.

Chav walks into the shop with chavette in tow, they wander around looking for an alcopop or something, all the while he's giving it lots of mouth, and asking his bird what she wants. they pick out something and come to me at the counter, where I promptly ID them, to find that she's under age and decline to sell to them both.

Cue tirades of anger from chav and smug glee from me.
(Mong-the-Merciful, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:31, Reply)

First Great Western
Bristol Temple Meads lost property.

Here dwells possibly the biggest arsehole jobsworth in the universe. He lives in a kind of glass monkey cage in the underpass.

I lost my wallet on a train a year ago, and I got a letter a couple of months later, asking me to go to the above station with the enclosed ref number to pick up my lost property. Down I went, with said number in hand, having parked semi-legally outside, because I thought it'd only be a flying visit. I gave the number to the man behind the counter. The man went into the back, and came back with a brown jacket.

I said 'Sorry - but I lost a wallet, and this jacket isn't mine'.

He checks the ref number against his book of pedantry. 'It says here 'brown jacket''.

Me 'Yes, that may be, but I've come here to pick up my lost wallet - maybe there's been some mix up'.

Him 'It says here you lost a brown jacket'.

Me 'Yes, I think we both understand that, but I have come to pick up my wallet. I have never owned a brown jacket'.

Now - repeat the last 2 section about 40 times. This went on for 15 minutes, until I eventually got so fucked off, I went to get the station manager. As I walked off, I heard a satisfied, sneering chuckle from behind me. I'm not normally an angry person, but I felt like strangling this c**t with his own intestines.

Anyway, when I eventually got hold of the station manager, he gave an 'oh God, not again' kind of resigned sigh, went down to the lost property, took a quick look at the book, apologised for the mix up, went into the back and retrieved my wallet, all in about 10 seconds flat.

And I got a parking ticket.
(8-Ball, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:27, Reply)

On a break from uni...
I was doing some horrible factory work in a place that makes the cardboard sleves ready meals come in. Being a temp I was the lowest of the low so none of the petty jobsworths there would lift a finger, when they could sit back and claim it more than their jobsworth to leave there post and help.
As revenge though, if I ever needed a break i found that if I pushed on a certain bit of metal the big line machine would go wrong and take half an hour to fix. Amazing how when ever I got on the machine it would break down repeatedly.
4th perhaps?
EDIT: No 7th *sob*
( Fish, My keyboard has dsylexia built in., Thu 12 May 2005, 10:13, Reply)

Council Refuse Site Attendant
I had a load of garden rubbish to dispose of, so I decided to load up my car and take it to my local council tip. On arrival I found it was quite busy, and there was a VERY long queue of people waiting to unload their rubbish into a single garden waste skip.

There were, however, a long line of empty skips, all with 'garden waste' painted on them. I asked an attendant why they couldn't open up another skip to ease the congestion.

"Can't mate... it's more then me job's worth" (seriously). "wait till that one's full and then we'll use the next one".

I was in a bit of a hurry to be honest, so I thought 'bollocks to this', and started emptying my car into the next empty skip.

He ran over to me, spitting with rage. "You can't do that. It's against the rules!!".

"What are you going to do about it then?" I asked.

"I'll... I'll... cone your car off!". And indeed he did. He started placing traffic cones around my car, as though they somehow made a difference to my ability to unload my car or drive away. I carried on unloading my car.

When he'd finished, he just stood there and gave me a triumphant look. I finished unloading my car, went around to the front, picked up the cones, lobbed them into the skip and drove off, leaving the jobsworth attendant slack-jawed and speechless.
( rubberduck should only be used after consulting with your GP, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:12, Reply)

Jobsworthyness
Making people fill out 3 pages of forms to get a logon account and then telling them they've done it wrong and making them do it again. The look on their face is priceless, although usually only do this to moany bitch people who are like "I dont need to fill in the forms i'm so and so blah blah" makes it all the more satisfying to know i've wasted a twunts time!
(Jimmy Large Is huffing Jenkem on, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:10, Reply)

Where do they come from?
Last year in JFK in New York we were all stood in line waiting to take off our bloody shoes and get everything scanned for bombs before boarding and there was a line set back about 10 metres from the machines beyond which you couldn't cross until beckoned by some sparktard with a uniform and a gun. An American family were at the front of the queue and one of the kids, a boy of about 14 was stood in front of his family and over the line by less than a foot. There was a machine free and he was picking up his bag to go forward. The twunt started shouting at him: "Step back over the line, Sir." "Sir, get back over the line." The kid couldn't really believe the guy and was dithering for a few seconds in which time the twunt managed to repeat himself about 3 times. As soon as the kid stepped back, the twunt beckoned them forward. Did I mention that he was a twunt?
(Scoobs, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:09, Reply)

3rd!
...hehehe
( spangolin - the odds are good but the goods are odd, Thu 12 May 2005, 10:00, Reply)

Skanky Scotsman
I used to work in the catering department of a super posh public school, being basically a dinner lady-man (so I had to serve and clean up after the snooty snots), and being one of the few members of staff that didn't live in provided occupation on campus.
Anyway, there was a particularly smelly KP, whose job it was to thoroughly scrub the pans the uber dishwasher couldn't handle. Once there was a busy day, and he came in for the tenth time mumbling and grumbling about how us FSAs (Food Service Assistants) couldn't wash our way out of a paper bag, and proceeded to show us how to correctly clean things, for the next half an hour (while all our work piled up in the form of several hundred trays of dinner).
The next time I was in everyone was laughing quietly in the staff room. It turns out that this KP, after giving us many tortuous minutes on how to correctly clean things, had given his dirty sheets to the laundry department to clean. Unfortunately (for them) he'd left in a pair of ripped, soggy, skid-stained, once-white, now-brown Y-fronts. They rank. Apparantly the laundress needed to use rubber gloves and a long pole to take them out to the skip.
This is not the kind of person that I want to be told how to keep things clean from...

Still thrilled about being second :)
( jme, Thu 12 May 2005, 9:59, Reply)

Huzzah
I'm very anally retentive. Whenever newbies get things wrong I type" Hello new person. Please read our FAQ. Cheers." and I insist on no pearoasts and glasscocks. Oh hang on. That's not my job.
(Garnett, Thu 12 May 2005, 9:56, Reply)