How I Quit a Band I Wasn't Even In
Went out last night for a various amount of reasons. Two birthdays, last day of Uni and meeting up with Liam were three of these reasons. For this special occasion, I thought I'd go suited and booted. As did my mates Liam and Hugh.

We ended up in Jukebox (a night that The Other Rooms hold), and danced to some live bands (one of them being a really good one called Kinevil. Remember this, it's important to the story) and drank some cheap drinks. We decided as we were the only ones dressed reasonably smart, we'd pretend to be in a band that had just finished a gig in town. We quickly went through details... Liam was the singer, I was the keyboardist and Hugh was the drummer- the band's name was Severus and we had a single out on Monday. We laughed, and we left it at that and carried on our night.

Later, around 1am, I went to the toilet. I ended up chatting to a guy who asked me why I was dressed so smart. I explained to him I was in a band called Severus. Except I didn't get the far.

"Mate.. why are you dressed so smart?"
"Well, I've just finished a gig in town. I'm in a band called-"
"Oh my god! Are you in Kinevil"

I looked at him. In my head, I knew Kinevil had just played, and surely he'd recognise me if I were in the band. Then again, they used a lot of dry ice smoke to hide themselves. I weighed out the options in my head, and answered;

"Yes."

Silly of me, I know. But what happened next was awesome.

"Yeah mate!" he said, "you guys were brilliant tonight. Here, have my card."

I looked at the card he gave me. He basically represents a music company that promotes new artists and gigs. I realise now that it was just an ego boost of him, and if I went through with this, he'd realise that I wasn't in the band Kinevil. So, I said what I think was the smartest thing I've ever come up with.

Looking at his card, I replied "Yeah... I've been thinking of leaving Kinevil for a while now.. in fact, this was my last show performing with them. But listen, I'll contact you about my new project"
"Yeah mate, sounds brill!"

I have representation for a band that I'M NOT EVEN IN, which I then ultimately left.

Time to form Severus, I think.
(__, Sun 25 May 2008, 16:14, 1 reply)

'fuck you, and goodnight!
A good many several years ago i was unfortunate (or stupid enough) to have made what we shall gloss over as some 'unfortunate lifestyle choices' which left me unemployed. i managed to after much fruitless searching, find a pub job.
now this place was a godfosaken shithole. it's busiest time was dole day- all the horrible skank mums and deadbeta dads would bring their illegitimate brood of rodent-children in to roll in the greasy threadbard filth of the carpets and eats while they drank away their money.

i SHOULD have been more wary when the landlord decided i MUST work my first shift or be fired, despite having food poisoning and shitting/puking every 20 mins or so, pale and sweating profusely.

i SHOULD have been more wary when after my first week i asked my hours for the next and was told 'yeah the idea is, you have the same hours every week yeah? what are you retarded?' only for me to be sitting quietly at home on what had been a day off the week previously only to get a phone call, incoherent with rage he was, screaming if i wasn't in in twenty mins i was fired.

i SHOULD have been more wary even, when i realised the man was a raving alcoholic who alternated his time between beating his kids, beating his thai mail order bride 1/2 his age who spoke NO english (i shit you not!) and drinking endless scotch then passing out upstairs leaving me alone in the bar.

so one day dole day rolls around, a woman, who's a regular AND a friend of the landlord, passed out and fell off her chair. turns out she'd had chemo that morning and the booze was just too much for her. the paramedics needed to check if she was breathign, which required me turnnig off the jukebox.. the controls for which were in a locked store cupboard, the keys to which were on the landlord's keyring.. he was upstairs with the door locked, passed out.
after screaming at him and eventually jemmying the lock with a screwdriver, i grabbed the keys and told him what was going on. he told me to fuck off.


so i opened the store cupboard, turned off the jukebox, and once the paramedics left, i very loudly and clearly shouted up the stairs (in full hearing of the miscreant dole-hound drinkers) 'right, that's it, you're a CUNT, i quit. i've left my till key in the till, the store room is open so you can turn the jukebox back on, everyone: serve yourselves, he'll be right down'
and promptly fucked off with a bottle of jack and a bottle of vodka.


the guy i worked with who turned up for that night said they pretty much cleaned the place out.
result!
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Sun 25 May 2008, 16:05, Reply)

My one and only quitting - Bastards
Once up a time, a younger, less-cynical Miraclefishy worked for the [DELETED FOR LEGAL WHATNOT], in their [SLAVERY] call centre, a big, happy independent subsidiary of around 200 people in total, selling contracts to the hard of thinking.

The money was great, the people were ace and the nights out were four a week. It was a good time.

But things got bad. The company lost the plot; putting profits on a pedestal above all else: integrity, customer's rights and employee wellbeing.

After 18 months of downhill crappiness, it came to a head when I was told I'd have to work 11 days straight, and, because the company hadn't made enough that month, they were restructuring the bonus scheme: i.e. we weren't getting any.

At which point, halfway through my shift, packed my stuff away and walked out, ignoring the questions of my friends, managers and co-workers. I retired to the pub, switched my phone off and spent a week lying in bed and feeling the stress float away.

At which point I turned my phone back on, to discover dozens of messages from the team managers.

I replied to one, a nice enough guy who'd left a snide message saying 'if you're going to quit, at least be professional enough to tell someone.'

I replied with 'This company has left me with so little energy, I couldn't summon the effort to resign. I reccommend you and anyone else with a soul left gets out now, before the company shits you out, too. Have a good life.'

Then I wrote a four page goodbye, critique and list of every single illegal act, improper sales technique, scam and bastardly act that the company had forced me and others to do, sent it along with an explanation to [email protected] email address.

Fifty people forwarded it on to their line managers saying 'we agree in complete with every word of this, you HAVE to sort this out or we will all go, and pass this on to trading standards.'

I then got a letter from the HR team saying 'please cease and desist from emailing the company. However, we are somewhat concerned about the content of your email - we would like to schedule an exit interview - in the meantime, we would very much appreciate if you did not forward your resignation letter to Trading Standards until we have had a chance to speak to you.'

To which I replied with:

'Certainly, I'd be happy to. My fee as a consultant in this issue will be £20/hour and you will, of course, provide travel expenses and a free lunch. When are you free?'

They never replied.

90% of the staff there have resigned, been moved on or fired.

The BBC has since investigated them for allegations of cashback fraud.

I'm in my dream job. They're up shit creek.

Miraclefish 1 - Big corporation 0
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Sun 25 May 2008, 15:44, Reply)

The QOTW Curse
It's a curious thing, this QOTW.

For one: I always expand it in my head to say "Quote" rather than "Question of the Week", but that's rather more indicative of the way my brain works than anything else.

Further to this, and perhaps as an indication of how easily influenced I am; it has given rise to a plethora of pet peeves and phobias I had never previously considered. It has lead to the need to install new shelving to accommodate the collection of books that Amazon have been busily delivering to my door this past week, and it has seen me purchase a sizeable external hard drive, to help alleviate my new found paranoia that my computer may spontaneously combust, destroying years of hard work.

And so it is, as a new subject rolls around, that I am now considering jacking in a job in a company I have been employed by for over 6 years. It isn't a job that I have ever aspired to, but the company is good, has given me a great deal of opportunity to progress, and, above all else, provides me with free alcohol.

However, just the subject itself, let alone the stories of people merrily moving on to pastures new, has put me in a position where I feel I must take stock of my situation.

As such, I have spent this bank holiday weekend pondering whether the time is now right to pursue alternate employment rather than remain in the position I've held only for 8 months. I think the better option would be to dedicate less effort to reading these various stories and save myself some time and money.

Damn you QOTW, you make me think.
( Moey, Sun 25 May 2008, 15:40, 3 replies)

I'm Quitting Drinking.
Last night we had a huge big jug of Sangria. I thought it would be funny to spike it with some extra vodka. Sadly so did someone else.
I don't remember going home at all. One minute I'm at the BBQ, then next Im waking up on my sofa. I had some MSN windows on my laptop and a very worrying email to my ex girlfriend in my sent items.

I feel like shit today.

I'm never drinking again.
Thats it! Me.. Drink... Finito!
(Miggyman, Sun 25 May 2008, 15:08, 5 replies)

The Computer Shop when I was 16
I never quit at anything I do. But I did once get "laid off".

Many years ago I got myself a little Saturday job whilst I was still at school.

This was at the time when Amiga computers were trying to make a bit of a come back. This shop had just been taken over by a new owner, and had been well known for still selling Amiga stuff when most other places weren't anymore.

For those that didn't know, in 1998 there was still a die hard Amiga community that believed Amigas would come back and be better than the PC or Mac. At the time, high end modified Amigas actually stood up damn well against a PC. As a die hard fan myself, I got the shop running with Amiga stuff once again, as the new owner had no idea what one was!

The funny part was, I was being paid cash in hand. And that was all of £5 a day plus 10% commission on anything Amiga I sold! Yeah it was peanuts but I didn't care, I was getting a load of experience in the world of work and was supporting the Amiga. Which was all I cared about at the time. Later on in life, I grew a pair of bollocks and started going after girls :)

Not only did I get a load of work experience. I also got a load of experience on corruption as well. The shop also bought computer bits and Playstation games off customers as well and resell them as used... Well they were resold as used if they didnt look new. One bloke came in complaining as there were saved games on his disk :)

The worse thing that happened, is I sold an Amiga system to this young guy who.. Well.. OK, he was a little of the retarded nature. Should I be politically correct and say he had learning difficulties? :) He was a bit of an irritating feller but generally he was a nice guy.
A few weeks later, this guy comes in selling an Amiga. I put it on the bench booted it up and was like.. Oooh this is the one we sold to that other guy. I was wondering why he was now selling it. My boss on the other hand was quicker than me to realise the situation. Before I had a chance to finish testing the machine he said "Yup no problem" gave the guy a ridiculously low amount for it and off he went quick as a flash.

A few days later, the original guy comes in again asking if anyones tried to sell us his computer as he had his flat broken into. Suddenly boss jumps in again "Nope sorry we will let you know if they have" His computer was sat on a shelf in the back. I felt so bad for this kid. My boss told me to keep quiet about it.

Anyway, his machine had loads of bits swapped around in it between another one and was sold again and this guy came back in and bought another one of us.

What an asshole my boss was for that. And what an idiot I was for not doing anything about it at the time. But I had literally just turned 16 and was incredibly naive and obviously over my head on this one.

One time I came into work and the shop was locked up. Someone came to the door and opened it. This guy I had no idea who he was until he showed me his police badge. Reports of stolen property in the shop. Oh what a shock :) This lot turned out to be a load of knocked off Playstation games which my boss had bought from a guy on the market!

He was selling PCs like hotcakes, he had gotten hold of a load of components for next to nothing and we were building them up and installing pirate copies of Windows 95 and Office on there. He was also bashing out copied software as there was a CD Writing machine in the back. This was at a time when CD Writers were quite expensive.

Now comes the part where I quit. I got a phone call from my boss saying he was ditching the Amiga side of the business and obviously I wouldn't be needed anymore. He saw the whole thing as a bit of a joke anyway. He wasn't buying in any Amiga bits to put on display anymore anyway. So I knew it was coming. This all happened after a hard drive upgrade went wrong. We had bought a drive in to upgrade a customers Amiga and it just wouldn't accept it for some reason.

What my boss failed to realise was that as an Amiga enthusiast it didn't take me long to find out he'd actually hired someone else to continue with the Amiga side of things. I knew everyone who had Amigas within a 100 mile radius, so quite how he was going to hide that from me I have no idea.

So I set about my revenge. I wrote about everything I saw going on in that shop on the internet and posted an apology to the kid who had his computer nicked and what really happened to it. Whether he ever read it or not I don't know. But 5000 other people did. My website spread around school like wildfire! Also, this was at a time where you could quite easily manipulate search results by using Meta tags and hiding text in your website to make it show up first. So a Yahoo or Lycos search of the name of the shop brought up my website first :)

Of course he found it. And what comes through the post? A letter from his solicitor ordering me to take it down. I say his solicitor. Ive never heard of a "Wheeler Dealer Solicitors" before :) Sadly my mother whom I was living with at the time saw this letter and believed it and ordered me to take it down thinking the Police would be round any minute. I mean I really couldn't substantiate the claims. But the website certainly did its damage. I kept getting messages passed from my boss to me telling me to watch my back and not go anywhere near the shop and stuff like that.

He was soon back on the Internet though in a more official capacity when he was thrown in Jail for GBH :)
(Miggyman, Sun 25 May 2008, 15:04, 1 reply)

Cocktail - The Remake
During my last year of A Levels, I decided that I needed extra beer money - don't we all - and managed to blag myself a job behind a local bar, helped by the fact that a) I went to college with the landlord's daughter and b) Because the landlady apparently considered me to be "dishy".

My choice of employer was an out of town pub which enjoyed a decent clientèle and was a prime spot for folks stopping for a pre-club drink before heading into enjoy Colchester's nightclubs on a Friday night. With enough gel in my curly locks to glue a Boeing 747 together and a modestly suggestive twinkle in my eye, my secondary plan was to serve side order of charm with my drinks as a means of lubricating my way into many a lady's line of sight and thus combine earning money with getting my end away as often as possible. As plans go, this one seemed distinctly flawless.

The thought of effortlessly mixing cocktails behind a bar evaporated with my first request:

"I'll have a Snowball please" chimed one lady

"Erm... What's in one of those again?"

My other main characteristic feature, upon which to this day remains oft-commented is my complete Bealdlehandedness. I'm as graceful as a snorting Wildebeest riding shopping trolley along a poorly cobbled street.
At an average rate of one item an evening, glassware was relentlessly sent tumbling to oblivion closely followed by poorly coordinated swiping hands trying to catch the tumbling item before it shattered, accompanied by a strangulated "Oooh fuck, fuck it!", necessitating yet another apologetic retrieval of the ash pan and broom under a cloud of shame.

Flailing, spade-like, spazzy hands like mine were probably not generally envisaged caressing the gentle female curves of their owners as they sat coolly sipping gin and tonic in a vain attempt to quell their desire.

After five months of toil, I'd pulled an awful lot of pints and fuck all else.

My crowning glory came one night in April, as I was cack-handedly trying to take a basket full of glasses out of the washroom before stacking the rapidly diminishing supply behind the bar. I collided with a passing waitress in a hurry and the basket began to lurch lopsidedly as I desperately tried to keep forty pounds worth of glass from destruction.

I flailed and fought to keep my balance, but the end result was what is best described as a "mixed success". While every single glass remained undamaged, I'd fallen sideways into a row of optics and ripped down a full bottle of Bacardi, the optic attached to it and the wall fittings to boot. The landlord was surprisingly nice about it, explaining that I'd caused £60s worth of damage, but that these things happen.

With my exams looming, I decided that this bar work malarkey wasn't all sex and sophistication so I handed in my notice. With a couple of weeks employment to run, I kept my head down and stayed away from controversy. Right up until my final night.

At 10pm I was emptying ash trays when the two female occupants of the table I was cleaning made an unexpected comment.

"oooh, you have very nice muscles" opined one.

"Hmm... Must be very hard going dashing around all day. Would you like to come back to ours for a foot massage?" said the other, staring right into my startled eyes as she stirred her drink.

As I blinked in response, my mind's eye played out all manner of equally delicious scenarios, way too blue for me to share here - even with you fine people.

The part of my brain which commanded speech was attempting to say "Give me five minutes to get my coat ladies while I quit this job and rejoin you to tantalize the parts Carlsberg never knew existed".

My left eyebrow raised at a suggestive angle as I galvanised myself for a response surely destined to open the doors to the deliciously decadent ménage a trois I would be smugly regaling the grandkids of one day.

However, what bizarrely tumbled from my lips was a squeaky "Erm... Erm... Thank you, yes" as the desire being loudly voiced in my brain suddenly mutated into "Retreat!".

Bah... Bar work. It's a mug's game if you ask me.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Sun 25 May 2008, 14:54, 6 replies)

Not me but a friend
Got a first out of a top-flight uni and was snapped up by a certain gigantic chinese-owned multinational bank for their hothouse fast-track graduate trainee thingy.

The pay was top-rate, but in exchange they wanted your soul. They told you how to dress, how to talk, even how to cut your hair (for a guy who came out of uni with a foot-high pink mowhawk that was a bit harsh for him in particular). You had to move house every 3 months as they moved you from location to location, you had no evenings, no weekends, and you had to attend painfully dull corporate functions at least twice a week.

Now this guy had been the Equal Opportunities officer for the student's union, a rock singer and a free spirit. So this didn't suit him much at all, unlike the wannabee yuppie drones around him. The final straw came at the after-dinner speech following the company's christmas ball, when the UK Chief Executive addressed the rising young stars of Megabank plc. His opening lines of his "motivational" speech were, and I quote:

"We made £9 billion last year. It's not enough."

At this point, a voice in my mate's head said "You, sir, are a cunt. I'm not working for you." As the CEO droned on about how they all need to squeeze even more bank charges from their luckless and often dirt-poor customers, and as the corporate drones lapped it up, he composed his resignation letter in his head.

He handed in his notice the next day.

Not the most motivational speech ever then. But next time you hear the banks bleating about how successful legal challenges to their bank charges will bleed them dry and force them to charge for bank accounts etc, remember that quote. I always do, and I no longer bank at the Highly Shit Banking Company.
(Axeman Jim, Sun 25 May 2008, 14:20, 3 replies)

My first pub job
was working for a wanker in Liverpool when i was re-sitting my A-levels.
decided to quit before my exams started so i didn't risk over-sleeping or missing revision sessions so handed in my 1 week's notice.
I put my final date as the Monday before my first exam, which was also the Monday before Liverpool were facing AC Milan in the champion's league final.

Due to me quitting, my ex quitting a few weeks before, two lads going to istanbul to watch the match, and the boss going on a fishing trip with two members of staff that week they were ridiculously understaffed on what was probably the busiest night of the year. was so happy :D
(cs192 is sucking on a Koala at, Sun 25 May 2008, 14:15, Reply)

fishnchiphell
all i had to do was take the dinners out and clean tables but i was stricken with depression at the time so i couldn't hack it. i tried but got the shakes around customers. next day i got ready for work and thought i'd have a joint to relax. in complete waiter uniform, i sat down for a doob. then i had another. then i had a beer, then some wine, ended up a babbling mess... about an hour after i was due in, the phone rang. i was so wasted i ended up picking up the phone and told my boss to fuck off and leave me alone.
(finnigan70, Sun 25 May 2008, 13:25, Reply)

A couple of stories
I've already mentioned in a previous post about when I quit Blockbuster, so I won't repeat myself. I will however tell you why I quit. It was Paddy's night and my mate, who was the assistant manager, had arranged to meet up in a bar. I arrived with my girlfriend and luckily got ourselves a table with 2 massive couches either side. My mate was running late, but assured me he'd be there soon. After about an hour, I was getting proper pissed off and had told at least a million people (possible exaggeration) that we were saving the seats for someone. I called him up and he told me he'd bumped into a few people and he'd be there soon. Another hour later and I'd given his seat away out of spite. I called him and found out that he was actually with some of the staff from work (who he said he hated and they hated him). So I told him that he'd better find someone else to open the shop the next day because I quit. It was meant to be my last shift anyways, but I felt I needed to go out with a flourish. The perfect ending to 3 and a half years working there.

My other quitting was when I was temping in Sydney. I worked in the mailroom in a law firm. I was asked to be in for 7am on my 3rd day there. I asked if I could be excused from these early shifts because it takes me almost 2 hours all up to get there. My boss told me that everybody has to do it. I then pointed out that everybody else in the office lives within half an hours walk. She said, "tough shit". I slept in the next day and turned my phone off. Turned it back on around 5 and my temp agency called within 5 minutes. They moaned when I told them I didn't turn up because I didn't like leaving for work at 5am. They said I'd done myself no favours by doing that. I replied that I disagree, I did my self the favour of sleeping in and not working with the massive/boring idiots who only rose to mail room.

Just read this back, it's pretty boring
(Visionaryofthe1980s www.myspace.com/visionariesofthe1980s, Sun 25 May 2008, 12:58, Reply)

Does setting a machine on fire count as flouncing?
I worked at a fish factory for a certain seagoing Captain with a penchant for kids. It was summer work meant to fund an easy, and slightly boozy, last year of Uni. The day pay was good,the night pay was even better and if you worked over time on a night shift you were laughing. On the outside anyway, inside you had probably died far too much. It was that kind of job.

There were lots of different processing and packing lines in the factory and I ended up on most of them. The HR manager seem to think that all temp works were scum and so shouldn't get the benefit of working on one line. After all you'd only get comfortable and good at your job that way.

Some lines were easy and just involved pouring a lot of frozen fish onto a conveyer belt and making sure it was the right way up. A little mind numbing but you got decent breaks. Some were entirely more back breaking and soul crushing. One line was affectionately called 'Death Row'. A line of neverending fish fillets, a cranky packing machine and never ending back ache.

I was shit at my job. In fact any job bar two. One was the simple tipping the fish out job and the other was working on a 'shaker' deck. A big shaking machine that spews out fish fingers. One that is highly arousing if you rest against it just right. I was good at it though as the supervisors actually taught me how to use it and even fix it. They must have noticed the smile on my face.

HR fucked about though and I ended up on a host of different lines where I proceded to fuck up.

1) I jammed a packing conveyer belt that then fired out box after box of fish products onto the factory floor.
2) I broke several belts inside another packing machine, causing much smoke and even more down time.
3)There was a huge noise and a massive industrial sized bolt fell out of the vegi machine and onto the convey belt. I briefly considered letting it get breaded and battered.
4)Messed up the machine packing fish fingers. Instead of carefully boxing them and moving them out so I could stack them on the pallet it tored through the boxes and the pushed half of the crushed fingers out onto the floor and the other half into the workings of the machine.

My best mistake though came on my last shift. I had a new job lined up which I could fit around uni and would leave me smelling of fish a lot less. So I was a little unattentive. Thats right, all the above mistakes happened when I was trying to be good.
I was at the paperwork/Quality control post on a line, doing the job I had been told. Checking the weights of rejected packages. My supervisor forgot to tell me it was also my job to check for blockages in the high powered packing machine. I didn't and it blocked. Nobody else noticed until the boxes set on fire.

Im glad I don't have to work there ever again. I have also never eaten that particular Captain's frozen products again, even the vegetables. You'd be suprised where e coli gets.
(Peljammy Watching Godzilla, Sun 25 May 2008, 12:28, Reply)

Shop work
Slightly off topic but I used to work in a relatively small company selling stuff to the masses. I'm not going to lie and say that the job was crap because it wasn't. The people that I worked with were great and i got to borrow stuff whenever i wanted. The money wasn't fantastic but it was regular and i needed the work.
I worked hard and was good at my job to the point where I was acting as manager while the manager himself wasn't there 3 days a week. Roll the clock forwards 18 months and I am told that upper management have decided that one of the staff would be made assistant manager whilst the other would be have to go part time. Now I have a mortgage and kids to fund and wouldn't be able to manage on part time wages.

By happy coincidence just after I was told that they had to consider me for part time work I found out about a much better job that was available at a different company for less hours and more money. I promptly applied and now work there quite happily.
The real kicker is that I have since found out that the person who does the area managers job (who was nice as pie to everyones face)had stabbed me in the back and told everyone at head office that they didn't think that I was capable of doing the assistant managers role. This despite the fact that I was already doing it*.
I have since found out through people who still work there that the shop where I used to work has gone to sh*t within a couple of months of my leaving. The three part timers that they hired to replace me have all left. Stock has gone missing, disciplinary hearings have had to be done and things have generally stopped running smoothly.
I don't wish any ill upon those still working there but it is nice to see the effect that your leaving has on a place especially when your abilities have been called into doubt.

*A person with such awesome management capabilities that even though they were relying on me to cover a shop with them decided to have a go at me, two days before I left the company, about my attitude for no good reason. On hindsight I should have walked out at that point and left them to it.
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Sun 25 May 2008, 12:04, Reply)

i fucking love being a contractor
i have never been with the same firm for longer than nine months, as soon as there is more money, better conditions etc i jack and start elsewhere. the best thing is this is considered normal and as long as you do it right you can work for everyone all over again, its fucking ace, fuck working in an office, i get well paid considering only qualifications i have are trade related(not a gcse to my name equal amounts of pride/shame depending on my bank balance), i get to travel all over the world and i get treated as an equal by my gaffers. i still moan like fuck but reading everyone's stories of office bound hitlers who invade every facet of your lives i feel 7 different types of contentment.



( i go to a place called sakhalin island on wednesday, its off northern russia but only 90 miles from japan, it's going to make the banks of the humber in january seem positively fucking tropical)
shrunkennutsblog
(studdley ruffrod no crack too slack, Sun 25 May 2008, 12:01, 2 replies)

Don't employ anybody, ever...
...was the advice my accountant gave me some years ago. I was just starting my second business, and I had some need of some admin. work. Nothing exciting but it was a small company rapidly going places (had moved into profitability inside of 6 weeks - same accountant told me later he'd never seen such a profitable organisation).
So I decided to use a local agency, who sent me along a nice Asian lad (and yes, sadly his race is a relevant issue - so read on).
He was impressed at the house I had, the car I drove - he was working in my study.

After a couple of days, I explained I had a deadline coming up - work had backed up, not his fault, did he fancy making some overtime ? Entirely optional, but it would help me out ? Interested ?

"Oh yes", he said, I'm happy to work this weekend". I told him I was very grateful, and also explained that my (relative) success was due to me, on occasion, working mad hours, doing without sleep - nothing anyone should do long-term, but occasionally needs must. Well, he agreed entirely; he wanted what I had and seemed prepared to make the same sacrifices. Good on him, I thought - maybe this guy could be doing something better for me if he carried on like this. I'll give anyone a chance, training, encouragement - I've been "lucky" (mostly due to initiative and hard work) and I'm happy to share that luck.

So I made him a deal. I would loan him a computer to do the work on over the weekend, so he could work from home. I would pay him the same rate I paid the agency for him - thus boosting his pay by 40%. I dropped him off at his house on the Friday evening, told him to make sure he took *some* of the weekend off, and thought I'd get maybe 12 hours out of him that weekend.

Picked him up on Monday morning. "I haven't done much" he said. He was right. If he'd worked for 2 hours that weekend I'd have been amazed. He claimed for 4 hours. It still didn't justify all of my time fetching and carrying him, when I could have used the same time to have achieved more than him. Oh well.

I didn't ask him why he hadn't done the work. He volunteered though that he had been "at the temple" at the weekend; the same weekend he of course was going to be working for me, as promised.

No golden opportunity for him then. And I was mightily pissed off that he had in effect played the race card. Frankly, I didn't care why he hadn't done it, more the fact that he wanted to come across as someone who wanted a break, then got one and screwed it up. And used a piss-poor excuse, overcharged me and lied - had he spent all weekend at the temple ? Had he arse ? Could he have done the work - oh yes, it wasn't beyond him, it wouldn't have been beyond a bright 10 year old. He just Could Not Be Bothered.

And in 11 years now of running a company, I've sadly found that the only motivated people are those who are doing quite well already - the two things may be linked. Like my two friends who attended a meeting with me in London this Saturday. For that, and promise of future work, they got £1K each, plus shares, plus 10% each of any profits I made. As they said, too generous. Just ask Mr Pooflake about the help I gave him recently to try and get a complete stranger a job. I'll help anyone, me.

Because I'm not a bastard who wants it all for himself. I'm happy to share with others and to be understanding. Sadly though, with the exception of people who are already doing well for themselves, EVERYBODY I have ever tried to help through employment has f*cked me over. Every Single One. Friends, family, strangers, it hasn't mattered.

Which is why I'll never employ anyone. Sure, I'll give short-term contract work, payment by results - but employment ? Forget it. Which makes me really sad.

You see, it's all too easy to blame other people, not yourselves. It doesn't take much brains to do well in this world - look in your Tesco car park at people driving the new 4x4 - do they look particularly bright ? Most of them, not at all.

It just takes initiative, work, some sacrifice, and some willingness to learn new things. It certainly doesn't take over my life - I'm pulling in over £10K / month at the moment, and I have spare time to live in, rather than just work work work. I love having fun, and to me that's not work. But fun costs, so sometimes work's necessary...

What it doesn't take is blaming others. Maybe when you quit the shit job and fuck up those you leave behind, maybe you should ask yourself why you are in said shit job in the first place. If you've got the ability to type coherent English into a web site, believe me, you have skills many people don't have.

This QoTW has really depressed me. I'm no way a Tory, far fucking from it, but there seem to be too many people on here completely failing to take any personal responsibility for their circumstances. When you read things like "I was stuck in a dead end job for 2 years" it makes me weep. That's 2 years of your life you won't have again ? Did you look elsewhere ? Consider getting training either on- or off the job to move up ? Work out why you were where you were and look at who was to "blame" ?

That's right, it was YOU. Yes, shit bosses exist out there, but there are also a load of shit workers. I'm not perfect, far far far from it, but if I fuck about I know who to blame. I have pity for the genuine few who are stuck out there without options, but I think it's a small percentage compared to those who just don't want to break into a sweat or see beyond the next piss up into their future.

Sorry for all of this - but I hate the constant blame culture.
( I_Was_Mordred, Sun 25 May 2008, 11:37, 5 replies)

I was fired from my first job.
By a tall twat who looked like John Cleese but was about as amusing as a polyp.

He called me into his office, berated my dress sense, complained that I took an hour and 5 minutes for lunch and then very tactfully said "We're going to have to sack you".

I was choked. I'd just signed mortgage papers on a flat, and now I had no source of income.

I didnt exactly flounce out, in fact the flouncing came a few years later when I discovered where he lived and one cold November 5th, I wrapped a large, moist dog turd in some newspaper, and, with the addition of a lit banger (firecracker to our Colonial Cousins on this board), placed it through his letterbox.

I watched the carnage unfold from the safety of a privet bush on the other side of the road.

The ensuing explosion (with a slightly wet ring to it due to the canine excretia), was followed by screams of horror from his painted harridan of a wife, and screams from his girlish sons.

He opened the door, and I was pleased to see some of the effluent had found its way onto his face... a couple of splatters on his forehead and cheek. Evidently he had entered the hallway at the time of the explosion.

Sack me would you, you motherfucker? Be careful what enemies you make in life.
(Vic Flange, Sun 25 May 2008, 9:44, 5 replies)

my grandfather quit smoking
a little while after he was cremated.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 25 May 2008, 8:25, 3 replies)

The second gimp
Just last week i was given a new work experience boy to babysit for 3 weeks. This lad had come from one of the training acadameys in town. Its the sort of place where all the no hopers end up , the sort of kid who was in remedial finger painting. Basically the dregs and those who have fallen through the gaps. The course is government funded , basically you get sent on this and dont fuck up or you loose your dole.

Needless to say i wasnt expecting a lot but i was prepared to give him a chance a bit of encouragement and some guidance.

The first day he arrived early and ready for work good , excellent , keen just what you want to see. So i set him to work washing the cars on the yard ( work in a car dealership ) not too involving but it needs to be done. He didnt screw any thing up which was nice ( If you dont believe me see b3ta.com/questions/workexperience/post79715 ).

Anyway the second day arrived and he was about 10 min late Hmmm not the best but i will have a word to him later about it. So i put the boy out on the yard to clean a few wheels . About 240 to be precise but welcome to the real world. Showed him how to do it properly ie my way , and left him to it.

I came back about 20 min later to check on him and see how he was getting on . Couldnt find the bugger. Hmmm mabey he has gone over to the shop to have an early smoko.

Checked around nobody had seen him . After about half an hour he was deemed to be missing in action presumed to be fucked off.

We never did see him again although we heard from his tutor that he walked off " Because he couldnt handle being in the public eye"
WTF ???

He didnt even have the decency to tell us he was going , the usless little twerp.

The thing that really annoys me is that i never got the chance to send him out for "A long stand" at our mechanics.
(welgar, Sun 25 May 2008, 7:19, 4 replies)

I've quit posting here.

bugger.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 25 May 2008, 2:40, Reply)

I don't like this QOTW!
Quite a few of the stories I have read have been sad ones and despite the fact that I should try and harden the fuck up I think that any sad, depressing posts should be immediately deleted, it would make going to sleep (without bad thoughts) much easier. Who's with me?! No, ok then carry on...
(RDFCRob Please God let Obama win!, Sun 25 May 2008, 1:38, Reply)

Evil evil job!
About 4 years ago I worked in my local co-op, which, after 18months of my employment, the bigwigs decided to shut down (big kick in the nuts as it meant I was open to agency-based abuse). On my last day I decided to dress as a woman (complete with tesco shirt for extra abuse) with skirt, lipstick and mascara. Waking my sister up at 6am to say "Soph! Help me with my make-up!" was the highlight of the day, along with making my co-worker on the cigarette kiosk do all the work whilst I went around pretending to flirt with everyone and getting double-takes from everyone.

I wasn't even drunk... (I am as I write this though)...

As an afterthought, we were given 2 weeks to clean the store out, our normal weekly wage given to us if we completed our normal hours. We completed 2 weeks work in about 3 days, paid £600 for 3 days as a student... priceless!
(5ifty0, Sun 25 May 2008, 1:24, Reply)

Permission to repost?
My last job was awful. Probably no worse than many of the others on here, but I was doing it and you wasn't, so I'm allowed to think it was the horribilest job ever.

What was meant to be a general janitorial sorta role slowly became, in the three years I was there, a security job. I got profoundly weary of having to deal with drunks, thieves, junkies, the insane and general cock-wits.

One day, last August, a very well known local purse thief/junkie was in the building trying to take whatever he could to finance the next shot of smack into his single remaining uncollapsed vein.

I politely asked him to leave, mentioning that if he doesn't I'm under instruction to call the police.

Judging from his reaction, he must've miss heard me, and thought I said "Leave now, you filthy, unwashed, retarted, inbred, gap-toothed cretin." Which would have been quite a fair comment, but I was the picture of proffesional politeness. He stood up and made his way out of the building making threats upon my life. This wasn't greatly unusual from him and his kind, but two things troubled me.
1.He seemed considerably more coherant and aware then usual.
2.He had recently got out of jail for attempting to act on such a threat.

This was the final nail in the workplace coffin that had been slowly built over the last three years.

F*** him, F*** the job. I was leaving, right away.

Not having another job to go to, in a town where that one is considered good, (£850 a month take home, 8am-7pm, 5 days a week)I had to think fast. Straight up to the new managers office, explianed (with a little creativity) that my continued existance was in peril and I was going home indefinately, whilst I decide what I'm going to do.

Being a local council job, I knew they would be too scared to terminate my contract while I was suffering the trauma of such an experience.

(This was a place where someone had previously taken a years paid sick leave for a sore wrist, in which time they managed to purchase and set up a takeaway resturant.)

I cemented the credibility of my confused state by a trip to the doctors.

Everyone knows the symptoms of extreme stress, however since leaving the place, I had been as calm and peaceful as a nun's conscience.

The morning of the doctors visit arrived. In preperation:

I hadn't shaved for a week.
(Letting personal standards slip, one giveaway sign of a troubled person.)

No shower for three days.
(Unpleasant, but one must make sacrifices for one's art)

I drunk two very large whiskys.
(It quickens the heart rate, another sign, with the added benefit of smelling like someone who has started to develop "a problem")

I wore my heaviest, thickest clothing and jogged all the way there whilst chain smoking.
(The combined effect creating an unhealthy sheen of sweat and blood pressure that can be measured tectonically.)

A few minutes after arrival, I was sat in front of doc, explaining how "It's all gone wrong" and "I can no longer see a light at the end of the tunnel" Having had four years of mental health care work experience, Treating every kind of upstairs problem you could ever encounter, my performance made the DeNiro/Pacino 'Heat' coffee house scene look like church hall Am Dram.

Him: "Have you been sleeping poorly?"
Me:"Yes, very bad."
(Mostly because I've been staying up late on the playstation and watching horror films.)

Him: "...Your personal relationships?"
Me: "She has expressed dissatisfaction about our situation"
(She did remind me I had forgotten to clean the kitchen floor again.)

Him: "Affecting the libido?"
Me: "I don't have one right now."
(Actually, doc, I punched one out over 'Juggs' magazine whilst having a morning whisky earlier. Flippin' great it was too.)

Him: "Have you been drinking more than usual"
Me: (Whilst eyeing the surgical alcohols inquisitively) "...Yes." (Exhaling deeply for aromatic effect.

Worked a treat. He showed genuine concern, which did make me feel guilty, but this was a preventative measure, as I'm very confident this was a probable path to my life if I had stayed at the job.

Perscription for Prozac and a reacurring sick note if needed.

Jumped on the first bus to work, showed them my impressively poor health check results and left, not contacting them again until my lack of updates resulted in them saying "Due to lack of further contact, as of "dateX" we are afraid to inform you your contract of employment with us will be terminated".

The last couple of paychecks from them just managed to keep me going until I started my new, still crap but infinately nicer, job.
( sir_spicious2000 Crap I've watched: www.filmplop.blogspot.com/, Sun 25 May 2008, 1:02, 1 reply)

poo revenge
I had the unfortunate experience of working for a CUNT of an American about 6 years ago. A real wanker who got me to work on national holidays and then had the nerve to fire me for 2 days (he gave in in the end) because I phoned in sick. Cunt. Anyway I'd had enough of him sending me all over the place to do pointless things in the Japanese countryside.

The yank fuckwit also decided to pay me less for NO FUCKING reason, and not pay me at all because I had a few "complaints" from some of the mongs I had been sent to deal with.

I'd had enough. I quit the next day but, before handing back the set of keys I had, I made copies.

Oh, how I would have loved to have seen the face of the bastard when he opened the doors a few weeks later, after I had spent a long night drinking a few litres of sports drink and eating packets and packets of crisps and a few BigMacs and a pizza, to find human shit-artexed walls and piss-soggy carpets.

Serves the cunt right for not paying me and treating me like shit for almost 2 years, just because I had nowhere else to go.

Length?
About 4 foot-longers, nicely spread over office walls.
(Mr.Dog was in love again on, Sat 24 May 2008, 22:48, 5 replies)

I think I've got the hang of b3ta now...
I read that "Motivation is the art of getting people to do what you want them to do because they want to do it", and also "What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight - it's the size of the fight in the dog".

And those are my examples of "Ike Wit".

(Do I pass the audition?)
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Sat 24 May 2008, 21:50, 4 replies)

on the day of my AS-level exams I couldn't really be bothered to try so i just messed them up, U's all around.

Did them again somewhere else got decent results. i then went on a year later to fuck up all my A-level exams.

Third time around I lasted about a month before quiting.

decided i would play poker for money (as i couldnt go to university) made some thousands started to play badly and had terrible luck, which then became a sort of negative suggestion, vicious cycle type affair. I then obviously decided to quit.

I've since realised that I'm somewhat schizoidal (hence the name) which, to some degree, justifies my belief that i really wouldn't enjoy university or work, as well as providing an excuse for my laziness.

nothing particularly funny here but i do believe i am one of the biggest quitters here. i dont get bored doing nothing, i dont really want to have sex (i'm not asexual, i wank) or know people, meet people, make money, learn things, be better then anyone at anything, eat, be complimented. I neither enjoy nor dislike most things. I don't avoid people or find their company disagreeagble (not without reason atleast) i just dont have any great desires towards them, save for extremely rare occasions or people. Arsenal is about the only thing i have a great interest in and yet i've never bothered to go to the Emirates. I'm at a loose end and it doesn't really bother me.

To be honest im attractive enough, smart enough (just enough mind you *) and socially capable... enough to achieve something of some value but in truth what's far more important is having bizarre compulsions towards; fucking (despite the fact that coming isnt that great), making money (despite the fact that you can't buy anything of any use, bar food), living somewhere big so you can have tossers for neighbours, getting compliments dispite the fact that they're contrived and you have no control over how pretty your face is, being with people dispite the fact that everyone is always slightly guarded and ultimately rationalise everything in a bizarre way completely contrary to your own wrong rationalisations.


to summerise, you won't find many people who quit more then me.


* you have to feign modesty nowadays otherwise everyone thinks you're a cunt.
(hieronymus bosch pcmechanic 4ver in ar harts, goodnite sweet angle, Sat 24 May 2008, 21:36, 3 replies)

I [plan to] quit!
I just started my summer job as a cashier at a local grocery store.Already, I'm trying to find another job. Oh, it's not the crazy old people who demand I show them every item that rang up just so they aren't .00001 over the amount they expected to pay, or the people who lecture me on working there when I should "be going to college" (even though I am and need money for books), or the people who pay for their food with food stamps yet dress better than me or many of my non-stamp using friends. It's the fact that they believe you should do nothing but work for them even on every holiday, the huge amounts of money they take out for the union which I receive no benefits from, and the crazy co-workers who stare at me because I have red hair.

This is why I want to quit, but can't until I can line up a new job. Heres hoping...

*Note the sarcasm throughout this post btw*
(Keylynn managed to steal 53 pineapples from a goat farmer, Sat 24 May 2008, 20:39, Reply)

Be a gentleman
Advance on the one below,

The next job saw me hit rock bottom. I hated it. They sent me on a training course where I got drunk all the time, fucked strangers and cried my eyes out in a hotel room seriously contemplating doing myself in (relationship split, just moved house and drug issues). When the boss sacked me (a ridiculous little man), I acted calmly and relieved and made him shake my hand. Not once but twice.

My advice:Be polite, insist they be a gentleman too and force them to do so if they look like they're trying to gain the upper hand. It will make them feel very small, even if you're in the wrong.

I love my present job, by the way. I work for myself. So there's a happy ending for you.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Sat 24 May 2008, 19:10, Reply)

Mr Angry
Advance on the dirty linen story (see below), I left the next job in even more style.

I worked in a nightclub where I constantly had to cover and run it for the perennially absent manager while I was on less money. The hours were extensive and shit and the owner was constantly condescending towards me despite being much cleverer and older. The refurb that was badly needed never got done and I had to make do with dated equipment.

I had just come back off sick leave during which I had been incredibly ill to find things had got worse in my absence. The final straw was a faulty burgular alarm he refused to fix. It went off every hour, on the hour and caused me sleep deprivation.

One night, I punched the bloody thing off the wall then text him to say YOU ARE C***T. I QUIT at 3am.

That did it.They refurbished a few months later. Bastards.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Sat 24 May 2008, 18:56, Reply)

Dirty linen
I worked in an unopened hotel and being angry with the bosses, pulled a lad and fucked him in every room then the dining room, staining all the sheets and loosening the bolts on one of the tables.

I collected my cheque the following day and sauntered out with a smile on my face.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Sat 24 May 2008, 18:49, 2 replies)