Lurid Work Stories
"I know a railwayman of 40-odd years' service," says Juan Quar, "and he tells me a new gruesome yarn each time we meet. Last week's was of checking the time on the wristwatch of a severed arm he'd just collected after a track fatality."
Tell us the horrible stories you tease the new hires with, or that you've been told.
NB By definition, these are probably all made up. Roll with it
( , Thu 5 Sep 2013, 17:33)
"I know a railwayman of 40-odd years' service," says Juan Quar, "and he tells me a new gruesome yarn each time we meet. Last week's was of checking the time on the wristwatch of a severed arm he'd just collected after a track fatality."
Tell us the horrible stories you tease the new hires with, or that you've been told.
NB By definition, these are probably all made up. Roll with it
( , Thu 5 Sep 2013, 17:33)
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I was once listening listening to a chef tell a pretty boring story
and, due in no small part to the sheer boringness of the story, I was idly playing with a knife, rocking it side to side on its blunt back edge.
He was watching the to-and-fro motion of the blade as it went, and eventually his story petered out mid-sentence. "You've gotta stop doing that. It freaks me out".
"Why?" asked I, the impetuousness of youth demanding an answer before I obliged.
"Cos when I was a kid I was a second chef in New Zealand, and I was stood doing exactly what you're doing while a chef was telling me a story, and when he got to the end he leaned forward for emphasis. Because the blade was edge-on to him he didn't see it, and he put all of his weight down, then slid along the length of it. Slit him open from palm to inner-forearm."
"Ah. Right. OK then" said I, laying the knife on it's side.
Which is a shame really cos the story was pretty fucking boring. A bit like this one, I guess.
( , Tue 10 Sep 2013, 22:28, 3 replies)
and, due in no small part to the sheer boringness of the story, I was idly playing with a knife, rocking it side to side on its blunt back edge.
He was watching the to-and-fro motion of the blade as it went, and eventually his story petered out mid-sentence. "You've gotta stop doing that. It freaks me out".
"Why?" asked I, the impetuousness of youth demanding an answer before I obliged.
"Cos when I was a kid I was a second chef in New Zealand, and I was stood doing exactly what you're doing while a chef was telling me a story, and when he got to the end he leaned forward for emphasis. Because the blade was edge-on to him he didn't see it, and he put all of his weight down, then slid along the length of it. Slit him open from palm to inner-forearm."
"Ah. Right. OK then" said I, laying the knife on it's side.
Which is a shame really cos the story was pretty fucking boring. A bit like this one, I guess.
( , Tue 10 Sep 2013, 22:28, 3 replies)
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