I love teh Licensing Laws
Used to work in a small supermarket open until 11 every night. Unfortunately for the town full of alcoholics who frequent the store, I was legally bound to stop selling alcohol at 10.30 on Sunday nights because "it's the LAW!". One of the best parts of my job was waiting until they'd made a selection at length from our relatively pathetic range of alcoholic beverages, lugged their bathtub worth of Foster's up to the counter, and then telling them I couldn't sell it to them. The crushed look on the faces of the Ben Sherman-wearing masses made my job worth doing.

Also, getting a job there when you're 17 and having to see photographic ID from every customer, even if they are 50, is worth a grin. If it was any of you I got, I'm sorry. It was fun at the time.
(underachiever, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:54, Reply)

I work on the tills at Homebase.
This offers fantastic opportinities to annoy bastardy customers with petty jobsworthiness.
Most customers are buying something that is either sharp, comes in a spraycan or contains solvents.
My till automatically propts to get an ID off the customer (I hate that till, it thinks it's my blooody mother or something!) This means I have carte blanche to irritate chav DIYers by IDing them, then asking them to repeatedly re-sign the till slip if they use a short form of their signature, the pen is dodgy, or pretty much any other "reason" I can think up.
( Labmonkey last thought about having another coffee on, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:52, Reply)

Bouncers Again Again
I paid my money and entered the club but was no sooner through the door before being collared. A hairy-arsed, baboon, meathead type bouncer approached and gestured to me to remove my jacket (at the expense of another quid)! The said jacket was hardly noticeable as a jacket, hence passing through the entrance and paying my 10 pounds entrance. This I explained but with his insistence and my refusal a standoff occurred at 5inches.
He very kindly escorted me to the front entrance, my girlfriend giving him a lesson in how to swear at the same time.
Other bouncers gathered, and, being early-on in the night hadn't seen much action. They decided I was fair game.
In the ensuing fracas I managed to bust a bouncers nose and have one arrested. (The police were outside and were sympathetic to my unprovoked attack which spilled into the gutter).
The morale of the story is, if your a bouncer being a jobsworth I will break you're twunting nose you cants

I always win
(Axe murderer, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:48, Reply)

Stagecoach Bus Drivers
Here's a good one for anyone who lives in an area Stagecoach have busses, and with their borg attitude that's most of the country by now.

One thing they really hate is issuing "Change Vouchers" - so I INSIST on it. Basically, they have to give you change but first thing in the morning they often don't have change for a twenty quid note, so they tell you to get off the foxcubbing bus so it doesn't hold them up. BUT, although most of the lazy bar stewards don't bother to read the foxcubbing manual, their ticket machines are capable of issuing a change voucher ticket, so if you give them a twenty quid note at 7:30 in the morning, for a 60p fare, they have to issue you a change voucher for the difference.

Extra points for the jobsworth expert. This is the person who then insists on their right to redeem PART of the change voucher for another bus ticket - this involves the driver getting out his manual to work out how to tell the ticket machine that the customer not only is paying for their 60p bus ride with a change voucher for £19.40 but also needs ANOTHER change voucher for the £18.80 they're still owed by the company.

Finally, ultimate points to the bastard who turns up at 4:59 at the main stagecoach office in the bus station demanding to redeem their change voucher for cash when there's bugger all left in the till, because it is their right so to do - thereby causing every stagecoach employee in the place to dip into their own pockets rather than have to unlock the safe or call supervisors etc.

To which you can cheerfully say, "Same time tomorrow then?" - I love stagecoach buses, I really do...
(Snitter the Rat, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:47, Reply)

Slop Jocky's
I remember flying out to the middle east and stopping on route in Cyprus, we flew by the decrepit crab air Hercules for 6 hours to get to Cyprus after waiting in Lynham for 6 hours before because the crabs like you to turn up early. We stopped in Cyprus and were taken to the cookhouse for an early breakfast, and one army chef stood behind the hotplate watching us in case we took two sausages etc. One lad had the nerve to grab two slices of fried bread, when the slop jockey behind the counter rapped in on the back of the knuckles with a ladle telling him" one piece each. This resulted in the squaddie reaching over, grabbing the slop by the back of the head and dunking him head first in the breakfast beans. I cant stand menial arses like that.
( ratman, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:47, Reply)

Lav and hall passes
I always tell the students "Hurry up..." or even "Make it quick" when they ask to go to the lav. One even called me on it - "Why do all of you teachers say that? Was it some sort of training session?"

Then there's the hall pass stop - "Where's your pass?" This sort of job can keep you young forever.
( teknikl, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:46, Reply)

Bouncers (again)
Ok, admittedly I *was* underage, so lose a bit of sympathy here.. however I didn't particularly look it and I was about 17.9999999. Me and about 10 mates were going to a Nightclub and every single one was in without being ID'd, then for some reason I get picked on.

I've got nothing, so I don't get let in. I said, "OK, I'll go home and get my driving licence then", but could they tell my Girlfriend I can't get in. No.

Cue my mate coming out to find me hidden round the corner, I ask him for his licence which he hands over and goes back in whilst I spend the 30 mins it'd take 'going home' learning every available fact on the thing so he can test me.

I get back to the club, looking agitated (as if I'd have had to go home and get it) and hand it over. He says: "Name, Address and birthday?" and I rile it off verbatim.. then the bastard says "Ok, we'll get a pen and check the signature mate".

I just asked him for it back, and stormed off in a huff with him looking very smug in the background.

However I did get my own back next time I was (legally) in there by accidentally causing a powercut, having flicked a switch they'd put gaffer tape over, to see what it'd do.
(kna has forgotten everything., Thu 12 May 2005, 14:46, Reply)

Arsing health and safety inspector types!
They have to be the most jobsworth of the jobsworth! In my last job they were so concerned about people randomly falling down the stairwell that we all had to call our line manager before and after any weekend or evening visits to the office! Yeah right, like they’re gonna want a phone call at 10.00pm cus I want to go in and download Pr0n! Haven’t had a run in with any at my new job yet but I’m always ready for a fight…
(I came for the penguins, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:28, Reply)

When I was 16
I used to love going round the theatre I worked out and telling people to please remove their feet from the seatbacks, or confiscating food and such that wasn't bought in the theatre. (It's against policy you know.) I truly cherished each and every time someone told me "no" or refused to cooperate, and I got to go out to the lobby and get the ex-sniper, ex-drill sergeant security guard to haul them out by their shirtcollar and put them on the "permanently banned" list.

There's only one theatre in Fairbanks, and the next closest is almost 900 miles away...
(Ecclesia, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:26, Reply)

And I can never find one when I want to...
Used to be, every time I crossed the US-Canadian border, my entire car would get searched. Didn't matter how I was dressed, if I had music blaring, or if my daughter was in the car. Without fail, each and every time, everything in my vehicle would be inspected.

Well, I locked my keys in my trunk last year and broke the lock getting them out. Now the damn thing won't open, and I want the spare monitors that are inside it, but I haven't got the tools to get it open or take out the back seat to get into it.

I tried driving across the border a few times, but noone wanted to search my car :( Damned lazy customs officers!
(Ecclesia, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:23, Reply)

I always insist on fresh chillies,
not chilli powder, when rubbing chilli on my knob.




ho ho
( Nikfuf Eetr Northern Midlander, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:22, Reply)

I dyed my hair "Hot Hot Pink"
I went to the charity casino near here (Ontario) with a friend, around 3am on a weekday, when it's dead.

I'd brought my (US) passport because it's easier to use as an ID than trying to remove my driver's license from the little ID pocket in my wallet.

The security guard ID's me (I'm 25 & apparently I look 12...), and I hand him my passport. He doesn't even open it. He tells me he can't accept it because it's not a valid Canadian ID. I argue that the LCBO (ie. liquor store) accepts it as valid ID, and they're actually a government business. No dice. Cue me patting my jacket pocket and discovering that my wallet's in the car. I go out to the car, get the wallet, manage to wrest the license from its depths...

My hair colour on the license is listed as brown, and in the picture it's brown. The guy gives me trouble about it. Then he complains that he can't run it through the scanner to make sure it's valid and I'm not some sort of criminal, or banned (because it's scratched). Him IDing me lasts for about 15 minutes, while he puts scotch tape on my license, rubs it in his hair, etc (all those things clerks try when your credit/debit card doesn't work). He doesn't even card my friend, who's 5 years younger than me.

We're there thirty minutes, and I run out to the car to get some tylenol, leaving my wallet with my friend at the slot machines. Cue the guard ID'ing me again. Repeat process with problems with passport as ID. Except, now, my wallet's *in* the casino, and he's refusing to either a.) escort me to it, or b.) call my friend to the counter over the intercom.

(20 minutes later) Thankfully, she comes looking for me, problem solved. Another 15 minutes go by, and she wants her jacket from my car. For some reason, I go out and get it. Repeat entire carding process, with me wresting my license from my wallet and presenting it to the guard.

We hang around for about an hour, and I leave to go to the car to get some feminine products. On the way, I *talk* to the guard to explain that I will be right back. He nods.

I come back. He ID's me again, telling me he's never seen me before. I was very polite before, but this time... I lost it. I grab my friend, and head for the door, shouting with disbelief...

"HOW MANY WOMEN DO YOU HAVE COMING IN AND OUT OF HERE WITH HOT PINK HAIR?!"

Jerk.
(Ecclesia, Thu 12 May 2005, 14:04, Reply)

I am sat opposite her now...
and she is the most anal, petty fucking jobsworth I have worked with, ever. Every day I get an email from her with things like "i don't want to sound like a broken record but..." and "can you make sure you..." and other such meaningles twaddle that I dont even consider part of my job. she even cc's the boss in on these email. i brought this up with him: his answer was "i dont fucking care what she says, she can fight her own battles". those will be losing battles for her then. i have passed her name to several recruitment companies, so hope she goes soon...
(Jazz Bloke Music has charms to soothe the savage breast, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:58, Reply)

Mall security
My town has a mall of about 80 shops, so it isn't excactly massive and people don't flock from other places to shop in the same shops they have but somewhere else...

Anyway, in with a few mates, getting some stuff as you do. Think a mates birthday was coming up or something so all in to get presents etc then we meet some people we had not seen since leaving school. So we bit of a catch up ensues but all of a sudden 2 mall gaurds come along with the "you have to split this group up". Following this was the usual "why" "cos" "havn't seen these people in a while" "break the group" "those parents over their have a bigger group" "you will be removed from the premisises". So break it up, they leave, group back right away, broke up again.

Yeah, in no shop, in a mall, a group is split up for why? We where secretly planning on activating our cloaking device, which takes 5 people to operate, to make us invisible...actually go into a shop and then steal everything behind their backs...mwahaha!

Angry email later with no reply I have boycotted the mall (except for short cuts through the town) and never purhcasing in it again!
(puggs, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:56, Reply)

Damn Bouncers....
Once upon a time I was out in a town some 30 miles away from home with the missus and my sister. We had plenty to drink and at about 10:30pm went to a club.

The stupid twatage of a bouncer refused to let me into the club because I was wearing black "combat trousers". They were nothing of the sort, they just had an extra pocket on the legs. Not having spare trousers I came up with a cunning plan. (bare in mind, I was a bit pissed).

We went into a pub around the corner, ordered a drink each and I then took one pocket in each hand and ripped them from the main part of the trousers. They came away fine aside from a tiny hole where they were attached.

I shoved said pockets into the normal pockets, finished my drink and headed back to the club. This time the bouncer let me without question!
( andy206, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:46, Reply)

I bought
an oven from Comet three weeks ago. Day after delivery we notice a couple of screws missing from it so rang Comet 'after sales service' to register the fault and request two replacement screws to be sent.
Its now three weeks and over a dozen phone calls on, and so far no-one at Comet has bothered to return my calls, and the only response we had so far was last night when some fuckwit says to my girlfriend "its not in our policy to send out screws, you'll have to buy them yourself from a shop" WTF ????
(note: these are special screws made by the manufacturer and therefore cannot be purchased in any high street shop!)
So i ring back this morning to complain about above response, only to be transferred four times to hopeless bint who, after my lengthy explanations about just requiring a couple of screws to be sent, and moaning about its probably also 'not their policy to send out faulty ovens but they still did' etc etc.
Her response: "sorry, its been over seven days since the goods were delivered, not our problem."
Me: " ? "
(I'd complained each day from day one but no fucker had returned my call. Cockends.)
I said i wanted to speak to a manager, and was 'guaranteed' i would be contacted before 11am.
Its now 1:40pm and i've heard bollock all from them.

I am now convinced that Comet 'helpline' is manned by a small group of stoned gibbons and managed by a plantpot.

(I'm off to the oven department at my local Comet store after work, armed with a screwdriver to remove said screws from their display oven.)

Fucking Gonads.

EDIT: If any of you are that useless excuse for a human from Comet who I spoke to earlier, then you can kiss my big purple helmet)

apols for length, girth, size of plums etc etc.
(nappy rash, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:44, Reply)

I'm german...
any questions?
( bierbelly, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:23, Reply)

More Railway Business...
The captain of our County Cricket team came into the station in rather a hurry, saying he had to be at Lords' Cricket Ground in just over an hour. When he was rude and pushed to the front of the queue he sealed his fate. I quickly closed all the ticket barrier gates behind him as he waited at the Customer Service window. Slowly I entered the office and dealt with his query, finding him the fastest train, quickest route on the Underground, etc. When he complained that it still wasn't quick enough he just shrugged his shoulders and said "I'll drive instead" I proceeded to remind him that the speed limit was 70mph compared to the train's 100mph and gave him a lecture on the dangers of speeding. I opened the gates (slowly) to let him out and was treated to the full "don't you know who I am?" as he ran for the exit before I could give him a ticket for parking on a double yellow line.

Mind you, a very pretty, intelligent, and polite young lady escaped a Penalty Fare for having no ticket, but she was polite, nice, and not to mention drop-dead-gorgeous with a smile that made my ticket-clippers wilt. It's all down to attitude, I tell you.
( Amos E Wolfe makes vinyl signs and things like that, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:17, Reply)

I work for the Royal Mail
Enough Said.
( Squiggy Alloria makes theme parks., Thu 12 May 2005, 13:17, Reply)

Copenhagen Airport Security
A work colleague and I spent a very enjoyable six weeks in Copenhagen a few years back doing an IT project for an aircraft maintenance company at the airport. Getting "airside" i.e. onto the airport is actually quite similar to getting onto a flight and involves a fair bit of security and handing over your passport for the day. However at most airports, after a couple of weeks of coming and going, the security guys get to know you and things tend to be a bit more relaxed and less bureacratic. However post 911, you to get to find the odd jobsworth.... there was one in particular here in Denmark who was a right sod.

My colleague had one of those leather passport covers, and this jobsworth would refuse to accept the passport everyday, because it didn't quite fit in the pigeon holes used to store them. He sought permission each day from some admin office to store the passport on top of the pigeon hole shelves or some other more secure location.... This was every day for six weeks. We also used to have to get an escort to the company albeit only 100 yards away, but often we didn't bother with the escort on the way back..... the day he caught us heading out without an escort he ment absolutely mental!!
It made him even madder when we offered to go back and do it again properly
(Pearly Pearl, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:15, Reply)

Corner Shop
When my brother was about 10, he was sent down to the local post office corner shop (not owned by our Asian friends I might add) to buy a pint of milk. He had 40p on him, and the pint cost 41p. The nasty twunt of a shopkeeper refused to give it to him, and made him go back home to get the extra penny.

This man subsequently stopped a raid on his post office by throwing tins of beans and soup at them!!!
(jimmy_stavros, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:11, Reply)

Railway Ticket Inspector
When I worked at Northampton railway station part of the job was to inspect / collect tickets as people entered and left the station. I had a pair of clippers and a peaked cap - and a book of rules and regulations, the thickness of which varied according to the customers' attitude.

Polite husbands seeing their wives off, or groups of nice young girls would be admitted to the platform with a friendly "good morning" but woe betide the businessman who came running up 30 seconds before the train was due to leave expecting to be let in to "buy a ticket on the train". He would be directed towards the back of the queue, or if I was feeling particularly nasty, the ticket machine which would invariably refuse to accept notes less than 5 minutes old and still warm from the mint.

The best way to annoy me would be to ask to use the toilet. Back of the queue and buy a platform ticket - which were so rarely sold (except for on MY shift!) they kept them at the back of the drawer and had to hunt for them. Even better if the person was dying for a pee.

The automatic ticket barriers had a side gate which was strictly for large bags, pushchairs and bicycles, etc. Bags were to be pushed through the flap. Of course, when a train arrived at 5pm and 500 people got off it took a while for them to exit one at a time through the barriers so they would try to open the gate. Locked. One bicycle would be allowed through and they would all push towards the gate. I would simply close it, my back turned to avoid the dirty looks. Those who complained they were in a hurry immediately made me go twice as slow, and anyone saying they would be late would be shown a timetable and the train which left an hour earlier would be pointed out.

A rather annoying family off to London for a day out entered the platform area using their tickets then 5 minutes later returned to go to the shop. The barrier of course "ate" the tickets so I was called to let them out. When they failed to learn from their mistake and lost their tickets a second time I spent obout two minutes scrutinising each one to "check they hadn't been tampered with" and watched as they ran for the train with mere seconds to go. I would love to have seen their faces as they were challenged by every automatic ticket barrier in London and forced to show their tickets to a fellow stony-faced inspector to get past. Why? I had punched a hole in the centre of the magnetic "stripe" on each ticket.

Other than that I'm quite nice really.

I make no aplogies for length. It's in the rules you know
( Amos E Wolfe makes vinyl signs and things like that, Thu 12 May 2005, 13:07, Reply)

A friend of my sister
had just been to the hairdressers to get her hair done (funnily enough) she only had £1 left and that was for bus fare. She got on the bus, handed over her money and went and sat down. She then heard the driver say 'can the lady who just got on the bus please come to the front of the bus' so she went up to see the driver who then complained that the pound coin she had given him was not English, it was Northern Irish so he would not accept it, she argued with him that it had the queens head on it and it was sterling so he had to accept it. He ended up refusing to move the bus if she was going to insist on paying with fake money (his words) She was so upset and humiliated she got off the bus, We're still working on getting her to report him
( Roxy_Hart is so so old, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:59, Reply)

Pub Fun
I spent some time working behind the bar and on the door of a Pub, not may people know that you have 20mins to finish your drinks after time has been called, I used to have great fun selling young lads 3 pints just before time and then 20mins later taking 2 completely untouched pints back off them.
(hullygully, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:52, Reply)

MOT Testing Tosser.
The day before I took my car for its MOT, I had the misfortune to snap my inner drivers door handle. Thus making it impossible to open the door from the inside of the car. I solved this problem by winding the window down every time I stopped and opening it from the outside.

Knowing that this would be the only failure, I kindly asked the chap if he could turn a blind eye (my alibi being it snapped as soon as I left the test centre) as I would have to wait another week before I could afford the new door handle.

Alas the bloke gave me a MOT failure sheet, exclaiming "If the car was submerged" I would have difficulty escaping. We then had a 10 minute debate on escape procedures and their flaws, such as:

If the window was permanently left open, the car would fill with water quicker.

I could not possibly have enough time to jump from the passengers door or the sunroof.

He was not even interested in my idea of keeping a Coke bottle full of air in my car at all times.

I wouldnt have minded except now I have to pay £12.50 for the re-test and £? for the handle (from Ford).

P.S The centre wasn't KwikFit or anything, it was a place owned by the afformentioned tester, the spiv.
(RandomTwat, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:45, Reply)

Little Indian Jobsworth...

I went on holiday to Goa, India. On the first evening (about 10:30pm) we decided to go to the club that was part of the hotel complex. My wife and I were both wearing shorts, although they were the smart 'trouser type' rather than sports wear.

Before I could touch the door handle a little Indian jobsworth materialised in front of me and said I could not go in wearing shorts, (didn't mention my wife's shorts though).

After a couple of minutes trying to talk our way in we decided to give up but asked could we just open the door to have a quick look at what it was like. The jobsworth said: "I'm not really supposed to but i'll let you look this time."

He opened the door, we peeped in, and there was no other fucker in there, apart from six bar staff standing there looking hopeful...
.
(SproutsAreEvil, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:43, Reply)

Bouncers.
Shoes.

That is all.
( Mr Gear the gay-maker, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:31, Reply)

Special Arrangement
I flew over to LA last year - normally an 11-hour flight, but we'd had delays and a stopover, so in total we'd been on the plane for about 18 hours. Arrive at LAX airport, and begin queueing to get through passport control.

The guy in front of me was British, and was staying with friends in LA. When he got to the guy checking passports, he was asked for the address of where he was staying. He could only remember the address of his friends house, but not the ZIP code, but the passport control guy wouldn't accept this and started getting very arsey, which only wound up the British guy more. Cue the passport officer calling over 3 of his mates, and frog-marching the poor guy over to a backroom.......

So much for our special arrangement with the States - apparently it still won't make it easy for us to visit our Staterside chums!!!
(emma_fisi, Thu 12 May 2005, 12:25, Reply)

Bouncers
Living in a particularly chavvy (chors we call em) town but haveing a decidedly non chavvy accent due to lots of travelling and having scottish parents who actually talk to me, I am continually asstounded by bouncers in my home town.
Que me and friend - decently attired. Him in a smart jacket, jeans, nice shirt and shoes, me in jeans, brown smart/casual shoes and a rather posh looking rugby shirt that I gained from Cowes Race week last year.
We had been out for some beers and decided to goto the crappiest yet funniest and most enjoyable club in Hartlepool. Nexus.
We wander up to the door and theres a que. Fine. The bouncer wanders along the line pulling out drunk/underage chavs who are swearing all the time etc. he stops by me and says "Cant let you in wearing that mate.." "wearing what" replies I.
He points to a sign saying "No Sportswear"
I spent a moment looking from side to side taking in the sea of porno tashes, stripy burton shirts and burbury and say "you are joking arnt you?!"
bouncer apologised and said "more than my jobs worth, sorry"
at this point I suddenly realised just how rediculous this situation was and laughed in his face. Thus making him rather angry.
quite an impressive bit of idiocity for this club, especially as it boasts its "alternative" tendancies.
( Nostrebor can't be everything all the time., Thu 12 May 2005, 12:25, Reply)