Why I was late"On the way to the station, I got hit by a bat, it almost took my head clean off. Then the machine would not accept my ticket and the guy at the gate didn't think I looked like the photo on my travel card. So I had to go home and get my passport.
Then the train was 45 minutes late to the station because of the dangerous badger threat at Carpenters Park.
When I was on the train it took and hour and a half to get past the biscuit factory because the driver was really fat.
Then there was a delay stopping at the station because the train in front had heard we were coming and decided to play a practical joke with a rubber shoe on the track.
That is why I couldn't get here on time today."
What's your best excuse?
(
chthonic, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
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Not me, but a friendMany years ago a friend and I were both working as industrial temps at the same company.
One Thursday night, both feeling pretty fed up with our lot, we decided to partake in a few beers. Several hours later, after much drowning of sorrows, we decided to stagger home...before going to our separate flea pits my friends final philosophical words were, "Uuuu knowww what'sss great about usss, mate? We jusss don't give a f**kkk!".
Fast forward a few hours, and I awake the next morning at around 10:00 in my beer stained, stinking clothing from the day before, feeling somewhat worse for wear. After several hungover moments, the realisation hits me that it's Friday morning, and obviously, I'm an hour late for work. After spraying my night/day time attire with deoderant, and a quick swill with some mouth wash, I'm out the door, into the car, and on my way to work.
Being the kind soul I am, I realise that my friend is probably in the same predicament as I, so I head round to his house to offer him a lift to work. When I get there I can't get any reply, so I figure he has probably managed to crawl out of bed and make it to work already.
I make it to work at about 10:30 and make my execuses, boss is fine about, and all is forgotten. At around lunch time, by now feeling pretty shattered, I decide to take a wander round to the other side of the grim industrial estate (situated slap bang next to the M25...not particularly soothing for a hungover headache) to find out how my friend was bearing up. I couldn't find him, and so I decided to give him a call.
Me: You alright mate.
Friend: Urrrgghh.....No.....I feel rubbish.
Me: Are you not coming to work?
Friend: Er...No....I've been sacked.
To cut a rambling, hungover conversation short, he had called into work to say that he was not going to make it, and his excuse was "I have an appointment at the American embassy in London, I've applied for a green card, and it has come through...oh...and I'm probably going to emmigrate."
Which, while it is true that he had applied for a green card for the USA some months ago, telling a company for whom you're working that:
a) Rather than coming to work you've decided to nip down to the American Embassy
b) About to emmigrate
Doesn't seem the most conducive for holding onto a position of employment. Also, it would have been easier to just say he had the flu.
EDIT: He spent the next 6 months sitting around in his pants playing Medal of Honour before emmigrating.
EDIT EDIT: I quit working at the same company a month later, I sepnt the next 6 months between other industrial temp. work, sitting around in my pants. One weekday afternoon we took our boredom and what little money we had left and went to the Galaxy Centre in Luton (Grreat!) to watch a movie, after which we spent the remainder of our money on the arcade next to the cinema. At about 14:30, after our funds were exhausted, and some wandering around aimlessy past chavs, single mothers and drunks, my friend said to me "Jesus mate.....let's go home.....I feel so unemployed".
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 12:56, Reply)
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