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This is a question Professions I Hate

Broken Arrow says: Bankers, recruitment consultants, politicians. What professions do you hate and why?

(, Thu 27 May 2010, 12:26)
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This question is now closed.

sanitary towel makers
they should be stopped.period.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 21:18, Reply)
If everybody did everybody else's job...
The country would be in a right old mess, no just kidding, I truly believe that if everybody at some point had to work as say a bin man or in a pub or a cleaner the world would be so much better as everybody would have an understanding what it's like to do that job.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 21:15, Reply)
lazy porn actors
always getting behind in their work
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 21:15, Reply)
silk worm racers
always ends in a tie
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 21:13, Reply)
Job Centre monkeys
Or, more specifically, being one, because I was and I hated every fetid minute of it. I've never been in a job before or since that inspired such a level of disillusionment so quickly (think it took about two weeks). It was truly the most depressing job I've ever had, and not because of the clients; no, about 95% of them were fine. (The 5% that were utter aresholes that felt the system owed them a living and would threaten to murder you if they ever saw you out on an evening because you'd had the audacity to suggest that working for a living was reasonably good idea were another matter and, unfortunately, tended to be the ones you remembered). But generally, the dealing with the public bit I didn't mind; usually if you treat someone with respect in what is, lets face it, a pretty dispiriting environment, you'll get something back from them, even if it is just a grudging acceptance that you're not actually there to make their lives a total misery and revel in their pain.

No, what really used to piss me off was the bureaucracy the job entailed; it was impossible to keep up with rule changes because they seemed to happen every bloody day. For example, Mondays were stats day, where you had to put in reports of how many of your clients ticked boxes X,Y and Z, the answer being generally none because what nobody realised at the time was that about ten years ago an MP had asked a Parliamentary Question about X, Y and Z so someone in the department had decided that forever more the staff had to report back on this question every week from then on 'just in case'. Half an hour every Monday morning to do this, for every person employed as an adviser in the Job Centre, is an awful lot of time wasted folks...

The management (at least, the majority of the ones I came across) were shit, having been generally fast tracked into their roles without actually rising through the ranks and experiencing the front end aspect of the work first hand. They really didn't have a clue what was going on; my last manager was a particularly fuck knuckled spastic who would shut her door if one of the clients so much as began to raise their voice, because she had no clue about how to deal with such a situation, even though the safe running of her office was ultimately her responsibility. I swear that if I had ever been assaulted in the line of duty she wouldn't even know what number to dial. The day I handed my notice in was probably the best day of my working life up until then, and about the only day in that job I spent wearing a permanent grin that made my cheeks ache.

It also used to piss me off that your office's reward each year for hitting the targets for getting people off JSA and into work, thus lowering the caseload, was an increase in targets next year and a reduction in the number of staff in the office. Yes, some of clients would be back through the doors within a few months (lot of seasonal work where I was based), but the actual numbers of claimants (ooh, dirty word there, you can't call them that these days) did decrease each year. So the poor bastards that were left dealing with more pressing targets on fewer resources were quite often left at breaking point, and yes, customer service could get a bit rubbish sometimes. I like to think that I maintained a professional attititude to my work, no matter how much I hated it, so I'll sign off with this little linky to a pearoast from an earlier QOTW to show that not everyone who works in Job Centre is a self serving cunt with no regard for the people they deal with on a daily basis. A lot are, mind, but most of the ones I worked with, weren't. Not that I noticed, anyway.


Actually, fuck it, here's another that shows what may happen if you treat your clients like human beings: www.b3ta.com/questions/unemployed/post398988

And in for a penny, a tale of what might happen if you act like a total cunt to the person interviewing you. In the interests of balance, of course: www.b3ta.com/questions/unemployed/post399430

Length? Two and a half miserable, bastarding years that I hated nearly every minute of.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 20:20, 2 replies)
Not all of them.

Just those that choose to point them at Sarah Jessica Cocking Parker.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 18:54, 3 replies)
Being a taxi driver in Cumbria.
Just makes you want to kill everybody you meet.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 18:49, 2 replies)
Jesus Fucking Christ you windowlickers...
...this isn't the goddamn "puns" QOTW!!! I, for one, am glad it's Thursday tomorrow.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 18:03, 3 replies)
FACs (Failed Actor Cunts)
You may not recognise them by the title but you know them. You know those people who jump out in front of you - when it's pissing down with rain or on the sunniest day of the year when you're off to do something more interesting - to ask for money or '5 minutes'.

I say to charities that employ these twats. Stop. They are doing your organisations harm with their ill timed gestures and their attempts to look cool while being told to politely fuck off.

(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 17:58, 1 reply)
They deliver trouble
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 17:30, Reply)
Come on! Babies are already defenseless and parents pay people to sit on them?

On a serious note, where does that term come from?
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 17:27, 1 reply)
Professional bum bandits,
posterior pillagers, anus assassins, rectum raiders, bottom barons and derriere demolishers. This is a library! Keep it down.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 16:53, 4 replies)
BMW/Mini servicing.
I love my Mini. Cooper S. If I wasn't married to Mrs Strump, I would be in a serious relationship with it, including weekends away and small random presents.

But she developed a squeek whenever you turned corners. The car is still under warranty until the end of May, so she is booked in for last thursday.

I drop my beloved off and spend a crappy 3 hours wandering around the hole that is Leicester, until I get a phone call saying the car is ready. (The one thing they do well is come and pick you up in a 7 series ;-) )

Service Technician: Ok, there was a small stone in between you blah and blah, gonna need new break pads, discs, etc.
Strump: Cool, when will it be ready
ST: Leave it with us and it'll be ready tomorrow. Be about £59 for the brake pads, the rest is coverd by the warranty.

I go home, and go to the garage on Friday.

ST: Not been done. Forgot. Will be ready tuesday.
Strump: ffs, you said today, can you give me a loan car as it says I get in my warranty cover?
ST: Nope. All out. Not my fault - blah
Strump: Argh.

Went yesterday to pick her up after confirming she would be ready. They have billed me £488 even though the warranty covered until monday. "Yeah, but the work was done on Tuesday the 1st, so its not under warranty". I refused to pay, explained how they had forgotten on Friday and had a mild exchange of views with the Service Manager. I left without my baby...

I had a lovely conversation with the showroom manager on the phone yesterday. He was very apologetic; said i was right and that the person involved had been "spoken to in very stern tones about his misrepresentation of the company". He has also had my car delivered back to my house. It has been cleaned. I have a car that smells nice!

I usually take the car to a local mechanic; never had one with a warranty before - I know where to go now!!
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 15:29, 5 replies)
They just have no respect for the plaice.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 13:42, 34 replies)
Obviously not the footwear and to be fair not every trainer. Just trainers who want to train me at things I either already know how to do or have no relevence to my job.
Recently I've had to do a refresher course on 'manual handling'. Sadly this has nothing to do with breasts but rather how to pick up a box and move it. I'm a database admin, the heaviest box I picked up recently at work had a CD in it. The chances of me putting my back out lifting it are pretty slim.
I'm currently avoiding the 'complaints handling and customer service course' as I don't deal directly with customers.
The trainer tells me that 'the staff are my customers.' I told him to knob off.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 13:29, 8 replies)
Warning: Daily Mail-esque rant abound
I have a large amount of ill-feeling towards professional dole monkeys. Half of the people I left school with are in this category, and haven't had a job in the nearly 4 years since we left. I work damned hard to make less in a week than Kyle and Bekki, sat on their arse drinking Special Brew and excreting sprogs.

No, really. I have recently moved into new digs, so off I toddled to the 'One Stop Shop' we have in my hometown to make it easier for these cunts to defraud the system in the (fairly reasonable) hope that young lad + living alone + low wage = housing benefit, or at least working tax credit.

Sadly, I was not eligible for fuck all. Apparently if you are 18, male, and work full-time, 50 quid a week is enough to pay your rent, bills, feed you and still provide enough excess cash to get the bus to work. Let me just re-emphasise that; 50 quid.

I looked up what I would be eligible for was I not working:

JSA: £50/pw
Local Housing Allowance: £55/pw
Income Support: £50/pw
Council Tax Benefit: £15/pw
(My Wage - £170/pw)

Not to mention the various 'Allowances' one can get for travelling to dole interviews, etc. Really boils my piss.

I understand that some people are genuinely unable to work. Fine, this is aimed at the can't be arsed brigade. But in my view, you should either be learning or earning if you're my age.

So to sum up: Dole rats, you annoy me.

Length? 35 Hours per week.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 12:27, 62 replies)
Think they run the place.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 12:21, 1 reply)
Door-to-door electricity salesmen
I did door-to-door sales for a while. I hated it and left after a couple of weeks. I have a certain amount of sympathy with those trapped in its godawful clutches, however I have none for the fuckers who used to visit my nan's house. When it became apparent that she was suffering from Alzheimer's, we tried to make things more comfortable for her, however once we looked into her finances it soon became clear that she was signed up to pretty much every electricity and gas supplier going - the slimy cunts had been taking advantage of her slightly befuddled state and got her to sign anything they put in front of her. It took months to get it all sorted out, with no end of threatening phone calls and letters, mostly from me.

There's a special torture room set up in my basement for these bastards; if anyone could pass on their details, please get in touch.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 11:53, 5 replies)
Sales staff, but only of a particular type.
A couple of years ago, Mrs Sandettie and I went into Comet to buy a few appliances for our new kitchen. As we entered, a young smarmy sales bloke (SSB) came over rather too eagerly for my liking.

"Can I be of assistance?" asked SSB.
"Just looking at a few appliances" I replied.
"Ok, let me know if you need anything" and rather than fuck off, he tailed us around the store. He approached a couple of times and asked if we'd seen anything we liked, but then retreated again. He continued to follow us. Not too close, but a presence all the same. It felt like we were under surveillance; by a stalker with a bathroom full of 'surfer hair' product and too much Lynx Africa.

"He's beginning to really piss me off big time" I said.
"Me too. I know, we'll lead him about." my wife replied. So we led him up and down aisles around the store like a ghost in a sedate game of PacMan.

He got fed up after maybe ten mins and went and stood at a distance keeping us in his line of sight, shifting position to make sure he could still see us. I saw a woman approach him with a toaster/kettle box set and he practically shooed them away.

We went to look at the various fridge freezers with the water dispensers on the front. A short, unassuming guy who must have been close to retirement strolled over as I opened the door of one particularly nice LG.
"That's one of those with a reservoir that you fill with a jug. I got one, they're a pain. You get bored of filling it up all the time, the novelty wears off and it doesn't get used. If you have a cold water pipe nearby get one you can plumb in. This Samsung's nice." he pointed one out. "Plumbed in, you get a constant feed and this model is £100 cheaper"
I warmed to this guy. I could see SSB in the background and he didn't look happy. He took a step closer and then stayed where he was.
"We aren't making a decision yet, but there's a range cooker we want and you actually sell it here too" my wife said. After a few more minutes of small talk and chit-chat, we left.

The next day we went back. SSB clocked us and begin to wander over. As he did, a manager-looking guy was nearby so I collared him.
"Is Ted in today" as that was the old guy's name. I could see SSB lingering in the background.
"No, he's not in today, he'll be back in tomorrow though" the manager replied.
"Ahh, ok" I replied "We'll come back then". We left.

Next day we were back again. SSB saw us again and started walking over.
"He's seen us" I said.
"Quick, there's Ted" said Mrs Sandettie and we strode over to him. "Hello again, it's us. I think we've made a decision."
"Ah yes" he replied and I shook his hand making sure SSB could see.
"We'll take the Samsung fridge-freezer, the range cooker over there and we'd like that dish washer."
"Are we not getting the microwave today?" asked my missus.
"Any in particularly?" asked Ted. We pointed one out, not a flash one because we knew it wouldn't get used much.
"Hang on then" and he wandered off. He came back a few minutes later. "I had a word with my boss, told him what you were buying and he said you can have the microwave for nothing. I aren't going to bother trying to sell you the extended warranty unless you really want one. Tell you what, I'll throw in a couple of boxes of these dishwasher tablets as well." Those must be £8 a box alone.

He took us over to the till, we paid, arranged a delivery, said thanks to Ted and left. We went past SSB on our way to the door.
"You should've asked me yesterday when you came in. You could've had the stuff delivered on the Friday instead of having to wait until the Monday. Did you take out our extended warranty."
"Nope." I replied
"It would be wise, these things break down"
"No. If anything does break we'll sort it out ourselves." and we left him to be crestfallen to himself.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 10:54, 5 replies)
Pancake Chefs
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 10:05, 2 replies)
Lactation Consultants ...
Yes really. That's what the obtuse mumsy know-it-all condescending cows are actually called.

They stick to the 'breast is best' mantra no matter what the circumstance, genuinely believing the guff that they spout, such as;

Even adoptive mothers can breastfeed
Your supply will come up to the baby's demand in a few weeks
Breastfeeding is 100% natural and painfree
Don't mix breast and bottle, the baby will get 'nipple confusion' WTF!

No shit. These brainwashed morons will keep trying to convince you to put up with your hungry infant's screams for the sake of a party line.

I am firmly convinced that milk supply is as variable as fertility. One woman might produce only one child in a 10 year period, whilst her neighbour, despite her finest efforts, has 8. By the same token, some women can struggle to feed one infant, whereas others can breastfeed triplets and still have a freezer-ful of milk to donate to medical science every week.

Have any of these lactation consultants read a novel more than 200 years old? Infants died in their hundreds and not just through disease and poor hygiene. Wetnursing, was born of this need.

Say what you will about Nestle, but access to formula and clean water is as important to infant mortality rates as good obstetric care.

Breast is best, but bottle is a lot better than a screaming hungry infant.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 8:39, 20 replies)
Sports Stars
Professional sports people are the ones I find get right on my wick. These types, usually of the little to no intelligence and of no real life ability other than being able to kick or hit a ball get paid millions and squillions of Dollars, Pounds, Euros for PLAYING GAMES.

I have heard it being justified, “Oh they have to train very hard and make a lot of sacrifices”, THEY PLAY FUCKING GAMES. A woman living in war torn Africa getting raped by marauding soldiers and taking it so they don’t find her children hidden under the floor boards is making a lot of sacrifices, these cunts hang out with their mates, PLAYING FUCKING GAMES and don’t eat KFC, that isn’t a sacrifice that is a lifestyle choice.

Yet for some reason we hold these cunts up as role models and examples of all that is good in our society. Give them father of the year awards on Tuesday and Wednesday they are out with their over paid, under brained team mates hovering up great piles of cocaine, forcing them selves on women (although some don’t really seem to mind being forced on) usually in a group, cheating on their wives, abandoning their children and generally doing all the worst things you can do for society.

They don’t actually contribute anything to society other than PLAYING FUCKING GAMES for the entertainment of the masses. Doctors save lives, doctors make people lives better, sure they get paid reasonably well for what they do but, bloody hell, they do make a huge difference to people lives yet their salary is a 100th of blokes like Noberta Sola.

And finally, what about teachers? The people we trust our children’s minds to, the people who outside the family have the most amount of influence (and in many cases more influence). If we paid teachers a million pounds/dollars/euros a year, it would probably attract the best and brightest people to become teachers, rather than merchant bankers or lawyers and ensure the long term betterment of our society rather than the large number of no hopers* who can’t make it in the real world and choose to impart their mediocrity on to our kids.

It’s just fucking wrong getting paid huge money to PLAY FUCKING GAMES. Give them 20 quid a week and a free meal after the match. That is fair remuneration for what they do. Maybe then the cunts would have to get a real job Monday to Friday and the time they have for taking advantage of society would be greatly reduced.

*no offence to all of the good teachers out there.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 3:47, 14 replies)
The entire cast and producers of Lost
No pun needed.......they are just a bunch of cunts
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 2:50, 9 replies)
Entertainment "News" reporters
Today's headlines:
-Russell Crowe gives up smoking
-Snoop Dogg compared to Lost's smoke monster by Katy Perry
-Emma Roberts refuses to strip
-Justin Beiber once dumped a girl via text message
-Miley Cyrus is pleased with her new sexy image

Who thinks this is worth printing or putting on a website? I follow entertainment news because, well, I love gossip, but I cannot fathom how anyone could think that the world gives a shit what Miley Cyrus thinks about being a slut or whether or not Russell Crowe is fighting cigarette addiction as well. I say, if you're going to have entertainment news, make it something juicy, not just a retelling of some throwaway line someone used in an interview that supplies all necessary info in the headline.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 1:56, 4 replies)
Golf caddies
With their hands all over other peoples' shafts.
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 1:19, 3 replies)
Method actors
Who do they think they are?
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 1:17, Reply)
ambulance chasers
coming out of hospital, 32 staples in my stomach after emergency surgery, one of these cockwarblers grabbed me by the arm as soon as i set foot out of the door.
"have you had an accident that wasn't your fault? i represent arsehole injury lawyer scumbags..."
"listen, i've had surgery, not that it's any of your business. it wasn't due to an accident, it was nobody's fault, now if you'll excuse me, i just want to go home."
"if you have any complaints about the doctors or other medical staff we can claim damages for you"
"no, thank you."
"can i take your name and address, so that one of our staff can call you? you may change your mind."

as i crawled into my waiting taxi, i heard him mutter "there's no need for that attitude."
slimy, bottom-feeding fucking leech CUNTS
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 0:04, 14 replies)
Never take a knife to a gunfight.
So there I was, in the bar, in Yonkers, at midnight, when who should walk in but Joey the Mole. I showed him I'm packing, he says "hey, Artie, what you doing? quit screwing around, ya jerkoff", so I says to him, "Joey, I think you better leave right now before you fall any deeper".
(, Wed 2 Jun 2010, 0:00, Reply)
Be the change you wish to see
I have a very opinionated friend called Phil. Phil hates a lot of people, especially when drunk. But one group at which he particularly enjoys directing his ire are the police. One evening, nearly falling asleep in the pub after several all-nighters trying to catch up with my college work, and fed up of hearing him rant on about the same thing for the umpteenth time, I had a sudden flash of inspiration.

"Phil," I said, concentrating hard on building a house-of-cards using soggy beermats, "if you feel so strongly about this, why don't you do something about it?" He looked up just as my house collapsed on itself yet again.
"Do something?" He laughed. "Like what?"
"Like - like join the police yourself. Go to the top. Work your way up. Change it from within."
Phil laughed cynically. "Like I could make any difference anyway."
"You could though," I said enthusiastically. "If you feel so strongly about it. And in any case, even if you didn't change anything you could still make a difference at the bottom. Give one person a good experience of the police, when they might have had a bad one. Come on, you were saying the other day you didn't know what you wanted to do after college."
"Maybe." he said, draining his pint glass. "I'll think about it. My round?"

Needless to say he didn't join the police. He's now working in Superdrug, but has gone back to college to retrain as a plumber, so fair play to him for finding something he wanted to do.

Anyway, fast forward a few years. I had forgotten all about this conversation, but was having a similar rant myself about the combined breastfeeding knowledge of most midwives and health visitors. Now, granted, midwives and health visitors have a lot of things to know about, and breastfeeding isn't often considered a priority, but it's something that is relatively unusual in our society, especially over the last 30 years, so that most first time mothers have never even seen anyone breastfeed when they have their children. Consequently, it often doesn't come naturally or instinctively to women and they require assistance from healthcare professionals. Occasionally you get lucky and meet a genuinely helpful and knowledgeable person, but more often than not, you get outdated advice, information which is plain wrong, and if you're really unlucky, the infamous "grab the baby's head, grab the boob, and shove them together" approach, which seems to be an NHS specialty, and is not only pretty upsetting for the mother and traumatic for the baby, but also totally unnecessary and not always that helpful.

I was lucky when I had my son in that I had read up a lot on breastfeeding theory beforehand, all the women in my family had breastfed so I had plenty of support on hand, I was even lucky enough to find a midwife in hospital who had a decent level of knowledge, and it all went pretty straightforwardly with no major problems. So when I started hearing all these horror stories I felt moved to do something - and decided to sign up to a breastfeeding peer support course. I felt that if I could help one woman breastfeed for just one more day than she would have been able to otherwise then it would have been worth it.

So have been doing this volunteering for a few months now and it's amazing - I get to see people gain confidence and achieve something they are proud of, and I'm doing something I'm passionate about. Only thing is that there just aren't many opportunities for paid work in this field and I can't carry on volunteering forever. So I have decided to go to university and train to be a social worker.

So I suppose what I am saying is, if you feel strongly about something, don't just sit around complaining about it, get off your arse and go and change it. Although if of course you're just having a moan and you have a perfectly good job anyway then feel free to carry on.
(, Tue 1 Jun 2010, 21:57, 11 replies)
The Post Office
Returning from a working holiday, I was feeling very pleased with myself for hardly spending any of the Euros I'd taken out with me so I took them back to the Post Office. There were 3 people manning the tills, one assisting the people queuing and the other two fiddling with envelopes. After 20 minutes I arrived at the front of the queue, only to be told I should have gone straight to the Bureau De Change window five feet away.
"But there was no-one there" I protested.
"There should be - have a look now" said the only one working.
I popped my head round and saw the assistant in the BDC section, yapping away on the phone to her mate. After another 5 minutes, she finally comes over.
"Sorry about that" she says.
I'm sure you are.
Then they have the cheek to give me £20 quid less back than I originally changed, due to exchange rates.
You can imagine the scenes of machine gun smoke filled carnage playing through my mind as I left.
(, Tue 1 Jun 2010, 21:56, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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