The sack
I've had many forms of employment some more long lasting than others, many times I've jumped b4 I was pushed, however, some time ago I was accused of Gross Misconduct and shown the door at a company I'd slaved at for 7 years.
At the meeting I had the distinct impression the dude who was giving me the big heave was either gonna sock me or have a heart attack as he delivered his message of doom. - with a purple face, spittle flying from his gob and volume rising to a strangled scream.
I couldn't help but keep a little bit excited at my future prospects hearing the charge against me.
Had I been caught with me fingers in the till?
- No...
Had I been porking the bosses wife or daughter?
- No...
I'd got married, (time off)
Wife had an ectopic pregnancy, ( time off)
Got pneumonia, (time off)
So my crime was not being there very much, tisc tisk. I went n saw a solicitor and as I had thought, the company was gonna have to settle me with some folding stuff and indeedee they eventually did.
(de do ron ron Essay?What Essay is that?When?, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 18:42, Reply)

workplace damage
A friend worked at the local airport mowing the grass. Fellow employee was peeling around on a forklift at high speed w/ forks at maximum elevation, took a sharp turn near one of the jets and knocked the radar nose cone off an L-1011, doing damage to the tune of $3 million (Canadian).

while not fired, he was charged by the Mounties for doing that much damage. Had a heart attack though, so threw himself on the mercy of the court.
(Lamonstrous, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 18:08, Reply)

Dogs = gay
After university, I spent a period working as a postman for the Royal Mail while I started looking for work as an actor. Apart from the early mornings the job was pretty reasonable, but after a while the same old houses and the same old letters get a bit tedious, so you have to start to look for entertainment.

So, there was this one house with a misted glass door that you could still see through pretty clear. Every morning when I posted the letters through the door, this dog would come running out barking and tear the letters to shreads. This was, of course, a source of much hilarity, and after discussing it with my workmates I decided to play with this dog's head.

The next day I walked up the driveway as normal, tore up the letters for this house and posted them through. I then spend the next 5 minutes laughing after watching the dog run out barking as normal and stop in complete bewilderment at the sight of the now torn up paper. I messed with his head good and proper, I did!

So I do this for a few days and every time this dumb dog would be equally confused. However, after I'd got into the habit of doing this, a couple of weeks later I tore up the letters, posted them through the door. No dog. Ah. It was only as I reached the pavement that I noticed the dog, walking down the pavement on a lead with his owner.

Got sacked, blah blah, you get the deal.
(dirty gypsy, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 17:47, Reply)

Temp agency
Not so much sacked.... But walked out on Boxing day after they promised us that we would only be working two hours. In fact, they lied to us and insisted that we stay for the whole 10 hour night shift.

I ended up writing ' FUCK THIS SHIT! ' on my work sheet. Put a big smiley face on it and walked out.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 17:09, Reply)

Accidental libel of one of the world's largest football clubs
For anyone interested, I can provide names of companies, people etc. Also, a 'friend' of mine still has one of these 'limited edition' memory cards.

Fanny-tastic.
(I_Don't_know_WHY_I_BOTHER?, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 15:04, Reply)

it was a long time ago I promise...
I worked for a well known supermarket chain at the age of 16.

In my spare time though, i leaned towards 'helping' provide acquaintances with, shall we say, herbal smoking remedies (it was the early 90's - everyone did it, thats my xcuse!).

Anyway, I worked in the cigarette kiosk in the evenings and before mentioned acquaintances would come in, ask for the usual 20 bensons and a packet of king skins and would receive a little extra in return. One day the security guard (who was a friend up until then) mentioned that him and his mates liked a good smoke most evenings and so I offered by services (as you do). We arranged for a small delivery the next evening.

So the following evening came, and I gave him the nod that all was 'sorted'. Next thing I know, I'm being frog marched up to my locker which was then searched by Mr friendly security guard, store manager and HR manager. A small investigation followed in the manager's office and the security guard was instructed to dispose of the green, smelly merchandise after escorting me off the premises. He put it under his hat (!) and walked me out the back door where, once outside, he gave it all back to me!!! I thanked him for the totally pointless exercise.

As you can guess, I got the sack. Thankfully, they didn't report me to the fuzz, which was lucky, as I was already on Police Bail for similar offences!!!
(harrymonk, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 13:50, Reply)

I got sacked once....
It's a long story with lots of ins and outs... and it was basically an unfair dismissal, of which I couldn't really do anything about, corporate twat's that they were/are. Took em to court of appeal anyway, or at least until they got scared and offered me some moneys to settle out of court. Long story short, I was gutted when they actually did the deed...

For about 20 minutes! I called my missus to inform her I'd lost my job, she informed me she'd just inherited 50 grand!! WOO JACKPOT!

Stayed un-employed for 12 months after... dossed about bowling, smoking and a lot more recreation.

This post could have been full of girth, but thought the after effects of the sacking were more interesting than the actual reasons and procedings of the sacking. Which really is quite a boring story - not unlike this QOTW
(HairyBaldy, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 13:31, Reply)

Grape picking
Basically me and a mate, who I shall call M, were both on our gap years (basicaly because we could, no other real reason). Anyway, the plan was to work and earn some money for uni, as we knew it wasn't going to be cheap, plus we didn't have any plans to travel anywhere. We both signed up with temp agencies and got a few 'assignments'as they called them.

Then I saw an ad in the paper asking for people to help pick grapes at a local vineyard (this is in South East England, where the climate is apparently suitable for this). So, phoned them up and they said yeah sure come along, it's crap pay and you're clothes will get ruined, and it'll take a few weeks to harvest the lot. No problem, I thought. They also said that you can work any hours you want, just clock in and out at the start and end etc and we'll send you a cheque when it's all finished. I then told M about this, and he wanted some of the grape picking action, plus it would give me someone to talk to during the day.

The first week went alright. We both worked hard, though admittedly M did daydream at times, so he wasn't always working as hard as the supervisors liked. I gave him a prod a few times, but it took one of the supervisors to have a quick word with him before he stopped daydreaming and did a bit more picking.

Now, each breaktime we walk the 5 mins back to my car, just for something to do. Also most days I was too rushed in the morning to pack any lunch, so some lunchtimes we would pop down to the local shop (about 5-10 mins drive down country lanes) and get some lunch, and get back in time for the end of the lunch break which was 30 mins. It was suggested to us by one of the regular workers at the vineyard, that we take out lunch out to the fields, and eat it there which would save us coming back. I explained that I had forgotten to bring any and thought nothing of it. A few days later he suggested the same thing, and I gave the same response. By now he seemed slightly pissed off.

Well, by the end of the second week we were told that it would all be done by that friday, and none of the grape pickers would be needed the following week. Great, thought I, as because I also worked at a well known supermarket at weekends, the work had tired me out and I wouldn't mind a lie in.

When it came to the last day (a friday) I could tell that there was very little left to harvest. Then, 2 or 3 hours before everyone was due to finish, one of the supervisors came over to me and M and said that she had received complaints from other workers about the quality of our work (meaning we weren't picking enough grapes) and that she thought we had been taking excessive breaks. We both denied this, and said that we always timed our breaks to the minute.

I wasn't prepared to argue with her, and I thought that there's no point in working for someone who doesn't trust you. So, we were asked to go and hand in our secateurs (which everyone was given) and leave the premises. Slightly shocked by our sacking, we left the fields and went to hand in the secateurs. Waiting for us was one of the manager/supervisors who proceeded to tell us that he didn't like the fact that we were walking around the site and would have sacked us weeks ago if he had a choice. Still in shock we just left.

So basically we were fired for eating lunch in the car. The thing that really got to me is that we would have happily not gone of to the car for lunch, if they had said there was ever a problem. Personally i'm pissed off that they handled it so badly and never told us that there was a problem, but c'est la vie and all that

No apologies for length, you saw how long it was before you started reading it so the wasted minutes are your own fault. I do realise that the story doesn't actually make that much sense, but it sounded better in my head

Also many thanks to b3ta.com for counselling services, just send the bill to my e-mail address. I feel a lot better now
(idiot pilot, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 13:10, Reply)

Accidental libel of one of the world's largest football clubs
For legal reasons I can't actually name any of the company names involved and also because I'm still a bit scared of them.

I used to work for a company which made (and still make) one of the most popular cheat code devices for consoles. I worked as a cheat code developer there and one of my duties was to make stand alone cheat/update discs. It was my responsibilty to make the update disc for a new football game which was coming out. This involved correcting all the team names, player names, badges, etc. However, when I was making the badge for one of the teams, instead of their name on the badge (and just as a joke to share with my mate), I put 'Dirty Fucking Scum Cunts'. This imaged was then flattened to a low res bitmap and made unreadable. We had a good laugh about this.

The disc was finished and mastered in very large quantities and shipped across Europe and sold very well. Approximately 2 weeks later the Producer of the product asked me to come and look at something with him. Now apparently an 8 year old boy had got the disc and (being impressed with the job I had done) wanted to see how I had made the badges. So he went into the editor and looked at the badge and zoomed in on it. It soon became apparent that the writing was not quite as illegible as first thought. The boy wasn't sure what it said, but he knew it didn't say his team's name. His Dad had a better idea of what it said.

Angry Dad then took it back to the major High Street retailer where he bought it from. They took all of our products off the shelves (not just the one in question) and soon several others did the same. The press were informed and started phoning us asking for questions. The football club in question were informed and started phoning up threatening legal action. The product had to be recalled, re-mastered and re-issued at an initial estimated cost of a quarter of a million pounds. Later, FIFA got onto them and were rather upset, as were a large video games company, who make another popular football game and who happened to pay a lot of money for exclusive name rights.

They asked me to leave (insisted really).

Fascists...
(The Louce, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 12:50, Reply)

Never been sacked, but have done the sacking a few times...
The best was a girl who we knew was stealing from the tills but couldn't prove it. She was damned good.

Appraisal time. There were a few issues that needed addressing like remembering name badge, timekeeping, bit too much sickness etc.

Cunningly kept 'forgetting'to do her appraisal then when it came round to it, agreed everything and when she had to sign and date it, got her to backdate it. "better do that love or we will both be in trouble for not doing it in time". then sacked her on the spot for not improving in time. When she protested I said "it's either that or I do you for stealing from the till. You choose." I won.
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 12:05, Reply)

Sacks of Cash
#2: Have to be a little more vague about this one as there are some elements which the law may er, frown upon. If you get my drift occifer ;) say no more, nudge, nudge, wink, wink ;) Eh? EH?

Ahem.

Late 90s, big global financial company. Foreign exchange department. My job: bundle up foreign notes as per orders. This half of the UK operations was new and hadn't really much security to speak of. So... You can see what's coming can't you? There were about 14 of us working there and only Dan and I had IQs in triple figures (admittedly only about 102 given the amount of dope we smoked but that's by-the-by.) I noticed the pattern of mistakes that people would make: they would put either 1 note too much or too little or 10 notes too much or too little in the orders. We each had a regular range of currencies but often had to change for the day. So when I was on the 'tasty' currencies, these are the ones were you could live on a single high-denomination note for a week, I'd make a 'mistake' to the tune of 10 high value notes. They did have a camera pointing down the row of booths but if you leant into you booth you could easily slip a bundle into your sleeve. One trip to the bogs later and you'd have a £1,000 pair of shoes (what?). He means he put the dosh into his sock.

Doing this several times in the few weeks I worked there resulted in me being able to quadruple my basic wage income. Tee-hee. After I er, left/was asked to leave, the security did get tighter than a nat's arsehole I understand. So I was in the right place at the right time it seems. Oh I didn't actually get asked to leave because of this, oh no no. I doubt they ever noticed - I'm sure I wasn't alone in my mistake making. No, I had a disagreement with a jumped-up little twunt who thought that because he used to be the deputy manager of the local Co-op, he was entitled to order everyone around, regardless of the fact that he was just a grunt like us. Oh and there was this other 'bloke' a gay Australian (yes there are some) who, not because of his sexuality but because I had to listen to his brainless opinions for 7 1/2 hours a day, I almost killed, on an hourly basis. Yeah, looking back I guess I didn't fit in - thank fcuk.

Oh and I've just remembered: Dan used to pull these 'funny little plastic strips' off the side the Portugese Escudos. Of course, being Portugese, these were their security strips, like the silver ones in British notes. In a few weeks, he'd devalued the Portugese economy by about 5% by my reckoning... Great times!

It's not big and it's not clever, and. Oh what the hell yes it is - I was loving it!
(ToneLeMoan 2atoms.com - Getting Worse All The Time..., Wed 1 Mar 2006, 12:00, Reply)

:o /
Not exactly sacked but not far off coming I reckon. My boss just caught me giggling at B3ta messageboard and gave me a stern finger wagging. Damn you all.
(The Apeface Cherub is not a cunty-uber-cunt, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 11:58, Reply)

cozy
i awoke one morning because my bedroom was bloody cold..relly bloody freezing. i slowly realised that i had been drinking (etc) heavily the night before on a works night out and i was actually lying on the very cold tiles in my very dark bathroom. i slowly realised that i didn't have very cold tiles in my bathroom. i had lino. i slowly realised that my bathroom was considerably larger than the room i was in. had i been abducted? i reached out and i could touch all 4 walls...and a toilet pan. hmmm? it was pitch black in there. i shakily arose and began searching for a door handle, there must be a door in this prison! i found a handle YA BEAUTY it opend and i was blinded by very unbright night light things which slowly faded to reveal...sinks. 4 sinks. and ...urinals! yes i was in a pubs bogs. it was 4 am. now under most circumstances this would be good..free bevvy! unfortunately i recognised this pub as the fancy one i worked in. and i knew it had motion censors all over the shop. i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrors. my lovely work shirt was soaked with spew. on closer inspection the spew on me matched the spew that was ALL OVER the cubicle i had just exited. i deduced from this that i had infact been sick. a lot. now i knew where the fire exit was in this place well and went over my escape plan, but would i make it down (ashton) lane and up the road without being lifted. i doubted it. no mobiles in thesse days so i did what any self respecting drunk would do and lay on the sinks and went back to sleep. when i heard the cleaners coming in i left the toilets and the cleaners totally FREAKED OUT. you see the pub down the road (oblimov)had been robbed the previous week by..yes...people hiding in the bogs! magic! any way i explained myself and begged then not to grass me up and true to their word they never. they told the chefs who for a laugh did. the manager said if i appologised to the boss i could stay. i never. i was sacked.
(noisy_fridge, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 11:42, Reply)

One more but nonetheless not anymore interesting
I worked as a temp for the Inland Revenue as a data entry monkey.
2 weeks of easy training before being sent to the main compound for minimum wage, but a nice healthy speed-related pay in the main job.

On my 3rd day at the main compound, despite getting the train that was "guaranteed" to get me to work on time, it stopped for no readily apparant reason only pulling into the station five minutes before I was due to start. Being quite a decent employee in my own way, I positively sprinted the half mile to the compound and got to my computer only 30 seconds(big clock on wall to taunt you all day which they ran by) past 9am and really rather chuffed with my commitment to timekeeping(although a bit hot and sweaty from the sprint)against all odds and got on with outperforming the contracted staff who had been there for years when I was tapped on the shoulder by the floor manager.
"Hi, can you come over to my desk for a minute"
"Why certainly" My head full of dreams of being offered a fulltime contract in record time.
"You were late this morning"
"Yeah, the metro stopped for no reason and I only got to the station at 8:55, had to sprint here to get here just in time" I smiled, knowing they would be impressed that I had almost killed myself to get there on time.
"Well, you weren't here just in time, it was after 9" Said the manager with a stony expression that is made to order in the inland revenue.
"Sure, it was a few seconds past, but I was in the building before 9"
"I'm afraid we'll have to not pay you for the hour you were late" Stony face
My composure swiftly went downhill from here.
"It was 30 damn seconds? Considering I killed myself to get here when I could have taken a walk and still get docked pay I thought that would be worthy of consideration"
"Thats the rule, you were late, you can go back to work now"
I gave this due thought and wittily replied.
"Um.. No."
"Pardon?"
"I'm going home to not be paid instead"

Sorry for length, and general lack of hummus, but such is the way with the true stories, they are either hilarious or mundane with the standard lies somewhere inbetween.
(NoMoreFaith can believe its not bloody butter, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 11:38, Reply)

I was in a one man band
And was sacked for a difference of opinion.
(Fuzzy, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 10:53, Reply)

Christ I must be bored
I just remembered another sacking. Sort of.

I was running my own business basically writing content for websites, and one of my clients was a huge american company who make films. Huge. Basically, they paid me £250 a day, for three days a week, to write a few film reviews of old films they were showing on their movie channel. Sweet. I didn't need any other clients, and I was earning £750 a week for about 4 hours graft as and when I felt like it, and life was fantastic. So I was on one of my many holidays, up in Scotland, and me and the wife (now ex) were in a lovely pub in the middle of nowhere having a relaxing beer before heading back to our hotel. My phone rings, and it's the head of the channel who's website I wrote for. Cool enough, I thought, if they need anything doing, I can do it on the laptop at the hotel. Oh how life rocks.

"They've pulled the plug on us and closed the channel"

She said.

"I'm on holiday!"

was about all I could think of to say as my cushy lifestyle drined out of my arse as I stood at the quiet bar.

"Sorry, tone"

She said, with a bit of genuine sympathy.

"Oh tits. I'm fucked!"

I said, very professionally.

"So am I. She said. I just did a fucking stack of coke on my desk, then got called in and told they'd be keeping me on and moving me to another channel. I'm whizzing my tits off."

"Fair enough"

And that was that. AND the receivers never paid me the last month's dues. On the plus side, I lied to the IR about my earnings from that job and got away with it*. Hurrah.

*to date
( Tone Depear fucking rocks, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 5:23, Reply)

One the other hand
Many years later, I found myself working for a Reanult dealership, where I was generally considered the star service bloke cos I was VERY good at empathising with customers who'd spend 20 minutes attacking me (sometimes physically) because of other people's shoddy work, and making them happily sit with a cup of coffee for yet another two hours while we did even more unneccesary work to their car at their expense.

Anyway, I got head-hunted for a much better motor trade job, and informed the service manager that I'd be leaving. he tried to get me to stay, but I told him my mind was made up, so he was very nice about it and said he sort out my notice and leaving date. 4 weeks of badgering, and he'd done nothing so I wandered up to see the general manager (who everyone was scared of an thought was a cunt apart from me - he seemed to like me in a non bum-love way) and told him. he said if I wanted to leave there and then I could, and he'd sort out that I got paid 4 weeks notice from then. Seeing as he was so smashingly co-operative, I worked through to the end of the day so's to not leave the department a man down.
At the end of the day, the general manager came over and thanked me for my efforts, and said that if I found I wanted to come back to just give him a call and he'd sort it for me. Whic, again, was very nice of him. Then he marched into the service manager's office and shouted a bit about nothing in particular. So I left, and went off to my new job, and got two pay checks that month. I called in on payday when passing to say hi and see the accounts people for my P45, and found the service manager had been sacked. Which was a bit of a shame, cos he was actually a nice bloke.

So there's no point to that story, apart from I didn't rob them, and I'm actually quite a nice bloke actually. Alright?
( Tone Depear fucking rocks, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 4:54, Reply)

I'm much better now
But I think, really, just about every bloke is a bit of a slack cunt in the first job zone. We're all lazy and we all know best.

My first job was working for a a high-street bank as a teller. You know, sitting behind the counter giving people their money, etc. £8k a year they paid me. I thought it was ace. I was there three months. It was a kind of 3 month probationary thing that they did with all the new starters, and by the end of the second month it was pretty plain I wasn't going to be kept on. I was a 16 year old boy ffs. Even trying my hardest, people simply don't want to arrange their finances with an aloof teenager blokey, who they'd probably cross the road to avoid in the street. By sheer dumb luck, I'd already sorted another, better job which I'd be starting just after my 3 months finished. So anyway, with about two weeks left to go, a golden opportunity presented itself, when one of the other cashiers (she was a complete cunt) managed to leave her cash draw open for five minutes when she ran upstairs to make the brews. So anyway, I lifted £300 and stuck it in my sock. Half an hour later, and I was off to a different bank where I had an account to pay it in. Fucking A. The missing money wasn't noticed til close of business that evening, so cunt face had to stay ultra late with the manager counting and re-counting the money, and trying to work out if she'd accidentally keyed £300 out of someone's account without giving it them or something, while I and the rest of the branch staff swanned out the door at 5. I still can't quite believe I got away with that. It was nearly 10 years ago, and I was earning £8k a year, so £300 made a nice fucking leaving bonus for me. Anyway, I left, I wasn't sacked.

The NEXT job, however was fucking ace. They paid me £14k (which was good going back then) a year to do very little apart from wander round the office helping non-computer literate people to fix their PCs which had mysteriously broken. In the year I worked there, I don't think I had anything more exciting than a monitor lead unplugged. Occasionally I'd pull leads out of randopm PC's (swap the mouse and keyboard leads - best gag ever) so I'd have something to do to keep me from the tedious admin and filing. Oh my, it was tedious. Being a lazy cunt (which I am - I'm at work now, ffs) I did as little as I could get away with, and spent a good deal of my time stood outside smoking and eyeing up various lady members of staff. It was ace. I got a verbal warning after flicking a comedy nazi salute to my team leader when he asked me to get the coffees, and then completely out of the blue after just over a year of "working" there and about a 3 in 5 average for turning up pissed after liquid lunches, I was called into the office and told my contract was terminated. I was marched back to my desk to get my sarnies to see they'd pulled all the wires out the back of my PC to stop me 'doing anything bad' (it was a financial company, so I could have pissed all sorts of important stuff up if I'd had the inclination). So I got me sarnies, and stuff out of my draw and was frogmarched out of the building in shame, and my pass was taken off me so I couldn't get in any of the doors. They told me not to stay on the property and to go and never come back. Fuck that, I thought, cos I had lots of mates working in the main building who I'd want to say goodbye to. So I sauntered round to the main building and straight in the main entrance (doors wide open to welcome customers). I wandered over to tell my muckers the news, and they said 'fuckin ell tone, we've just had a phone call saying not to let you in the building!'. Comedy. So anyway, I sat with them for half an hour til home time, and we all went down the pub. Several hours later, I wandered back onto the campus (no-one was in - they didn't really bother with overtime) and laid a huge fucking great stinky guinessy cable on the front steps of the main entrance.

And they STILL paid me a months notice for nothing.

A few months later, I landed a temp job working for another high-street bank. A call centre. The job itself was utterly soul-destroying, but I'd had a while lazing at home to consider life, and decided to make a proper effort, and make an effort I did. I picked everything up quickly, and was generally considered a bit of a whizz amongst the crop of new people who'd started at the time. I was efficient, courteous, and helpful to the poor people who just wanted to talk to their branch but found they now came through to me, and I did my best to help them. If they wanted to chat a bit, then I'd happily engage with them and keep them happy customers. My record was an hour and 6 minutes, when my team leader actually cut herself in on the call and asked the caller to please hang up now as we were very busy (very politely). Were we fuck. if we'd been busy, I would have told him myself, but he was very keen to talk about his car collection, and how long he'd been with the bank, and all that and he went away with a very positive glow about the company. To my mind I was certainly doing a good job, and my team leaders seemed to generally agree. I also had the best call-answer rate on the team, so that was nice. Of course, that was only cos every other call, I'd just hang up, so these short calls made my average time short, and my amount of calls high. genius. needless to say, they twigged that pretty swift, and I got a mini bollocking. So anyway, all was going ok. A new task was introduced, whereby we had to try and talk people into registering for the 'all new' phone banking service. The idea was, we asked, and if they wanted the info, we'd send them out a pack in the post. It was a good idea, and most people wanted it, so I figured we may as well send them out to everyone. So every call I got, I passed their details on to send the phone bank stuff. After the first week, it turned out they were well impressed, and I got a bottle of wine for my efforts as the person who'd passed most people on for it. Ace! I rocked. Anyway, a week later, they'd obviously spent the day monitoring my calls to see if I'd asked everyone properly. Had I fuck. There was no point seeing as I was sending them out to everyone anyway. Genius. Proper bollocking I got for that. Apparently the packs cost £20+ each to produce. (They must have stuck a fucking phone in them or something). Anyway. I got a complete bollocking, and I was well underwhelmed by it all, so the next day I didn't bother turning up.

Nor the next day.

So my phone rings, and it's manpower. "Whay haven't you been in work? Are you ok?"

"I've decided not to go. They're a bunch of cunts, and I don't like having a limited number of toilet breaks in a day"

"Well, you have to give two weeks notice if you want to leave"

"I don't want to leave. I've left. Look, I'm at home. I'm not going. They can bollocks"

"you can't just not go in"

"I fucking can! Come and make me if you want. I'm going out though, so you'll have to guess which pub I'll be in, and to be honest, I can't see you leaving your desk for that"

"But.. but you can't do that"

"I can. Look. ... sorry, it's a phone, you can't see, I was waving and generally looking smug"

I was well cool.

The only downside was that my dad gave me the biggest fucking ever (not literally) took my car keys off me (very literally) and I was fucked until I got another job.

The next job they treated me well, and I worked my arse off for two years (despite the company fucking everyone over on a monthly basis - we were paid with personal cheques some months, and they'd leave it til after lunch on a friday so we couldn't pay them in til the monday after) until I found out that either me or a girl I worked with who'd just found out she was pregnant (and had only confided in me) redundant. So I galantly walked. They made a big fuss and tried to keep me and denied the redundancy thing, but I figured it was time to move on anyway. The next bloody day they made her redundant anyway. Cocks.

Longest. Post. Ever.
(by me)

Oh yeah, stealing's bad, and not cool. And very naughty. And I've never stolen anything since, I don't think. I'm much better now, I promise.
( Tone Depear fucking rocks, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 4:26, Reply)

Great timing...
I worked in the IT department of a manufacturing company which had recently appointed a new department manager, the old one having gone on to bigger and better things. I must admit I wasn't too impressed by the abilities of the new guy (it was his first management position and it showed). Others in the department weren't keen on him either but were a bit better at hiding how they felt.

This guy's methods pissed me off more and more. He heaped more and more work on me, which I was happy enough to do, and he told me if I gave him too much work then feel free to say no to any request. Silly me took him at his word and said "no" when he tried to add another task that would have lengthened my already 50-60 hour week. He didn't like that.

So after a few months of this (and admittedly maybe one or two minor daft moves on my part) I decided to hand in my notice just after Christmas. The day after making the decision the boss called me in and gave me the "it's not working out" speech. They ended up making me "redundant" so I got 3 months pay (tax free), I was allowed to complete a training course worth a few thousand quid that I'd been booked on months before and I told them I'd be keeping the two PCs and other equipment I had at home.

If only he'd waited a couple of weeks, he'd have got rid of me for free! I then went on to various very well paid contracts and ended up working for an international IT manufacturer, flying all over Europe and generally having a great time with great people!

Funnily enough, within a few months, a lot of the rest of my old department had left, as had the boss who had decided to go back to a non-management position.
( SteamedCleaner, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 1:08, Reply)

Short but sweet
A mate of mine had a job he hated after the first day so on day 2 he addressed an e-mail to the MD with "Dear Cunt"

He was out about 10 minutes later
(Speshal, Wed 1 Mar 2006, 0:21, Reply)

Bang to rights
I worked in a pub when I was 16 bottling up on a saturday and sunday morning. I refilled all the fridges with beer & mixers and took the big empty bins out the back and sorted the emptys into crates to go back to the brewery.

I was 16 and I needed to get pissed down the park with my mates. I got to thinking... I had access to a lot of booze.

On and off I took loads but always in smallish amounts. But on saturday morning before a parents away party I needed more. At this time i was a proto-goth so I had a big long coat and I filled it with cider & lager and bundled it up so none could escape. I grabed this bulging, clinking bundle and buggered off. Normally the rotten piss head of a landlord would never be seen but as I crossed the car park I heard an "Oi" to see my boss aproching carrying an empty crate...oops. I couldn't run, and since he had a crate on him he wasn't comming over to tell me about my new pay deal.

He took back his beer and said "Go on, Fuck off"

Ah well bang to rights.

The next week I got my mate to apply for the vacancy and he managed to nick a HUGE bottle of vodka and the money for a prize draw and not get caught, but got the sack because they suspeced him and as a final karmic twist we nearly ended up with alcohol poisoning from the vodka.

Stealing's bad m'kay sorry for girth
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Tue 28 Feb 2006, 23:54, Reply)

Rent-a-motor
I used to work for a well known car rental company (rhymes with Hertz)

Picture the scene, it's Friday afternoon, it's 4.45p.m and I'm due to finish at 5, got the whole weekend planned. Back at the garage ready to go home when my dispatcher (hitler-esque, balding woman) decides that as I've been there the least time I have to go and deliver a car to a customer that lived 30 miles away. So I'll have to drive there, wait for this twat to get home then wait to be picked up so I'm not likely to be back until 7 at the earliest.

So off I go in a brand new VW Golf GTI (6 miles on the clock when I left)

I managed to get stuck behind a tractor on a dead straight section of road so I decided to stretch the Golf's legs a little as I'm passing the tractor I notice a very sharp bend approaching so I slammed the anchors on but to no avail, through the bushes, rolled it 5 times down an embankment.

Net result, one truely fucked golf with 28 miles on it and the sack.
(Speshal, Tue 28 Feb 2006, 23:52, Reply)

I got the worst sacking of my life yesterday
I nearly choked on his scrotum and it tasted like cheese.
(glenbo, Tue 28 Feb 2006, 22:44, Reply)

Sacked 3 Weeks Before Xmas
I worked in a recording studio and had famous people coming through the door all the time. On one occasion an actor came in (better that he remain nameless) and we got set up for a voice over session. It was the day after the Take That documentary in November '05. He and I chatted about it before we got started, only I had already started recording. To cut a long story short, he said he a few things he wished he hadn't said, especially if he'd known it was being recorded and that I would make it widely available on the internet. Needless to say, I was promptly sacked when he kicked off and the finger of blame was pointed firmly at me. The recording had my voice on it, so I guess it was a fair cop!
(Jonny Vantastic, Tue 28 Feb 2006, 22:22, Reply)

Pop Goes My (Cherry/Weasel/Soda/Stack) Delete as applicable
I've been the 'victim' of more sackings than most of you have had hot dinners. Well OK, than *I've* had hot dinners. OK maybe not. Anyway.

#1: A couple of Mondays ago I'm at work (let's call them SI, for that is their initials)- admittedly it is a temp position but a switch to permanent had been promised and was *way* overdue. It was a cushty job - 4 hours vague officey type stuff and 4 hours browsing the undernet. But I did do the job well. But Godawful pay. The only benefit really was my other half sat at the next desk, so we did have a laugh most of the time. I'd applied for another job sometime during my January depression and lo and behold was asked for an interview. Quite a bit more money was promised but I'd probably have to actually do some work *and* commute into central London rather than just nip down the road on the bus as were my current travel arrangements.

Cue a lot of mmming and ahhing as I weighed up the work/life balance, so on the Monday (the day before the interview for the new job) I decide to confront Mark, my boss (hello Mark R you twunt if you're reading this!) The ultimatum would be more money and permanance or I go to the interview tomorrow. I psyched myself up and went into his office. The skiving bastard hadn't been in all the previous week, something to do with a broken neck or something, tch, so this was actually my first and last opportunity to have this conversation before the interview.

Bear in mind the working day at SI finishes at 1630 - it is now 1625. There's someone else in Mark's office and they won't bloody leave. Eventually Mark says he wants to see me in his office. "Oh" I think. So I enter and sit down. "There's no easy way of telling you this..." he says. The immortal phrase... "blah blah blah...and we're having to review all temporary positions. Yours is one of those we have to let go."

Shock. It wasn't supposed to be like this! I wanted to kick *them* out of my life not vice versa.
There was more. "I was supposed to tell you on Friday and let you go that day but of course I wasn't here. So it's with effect today."
Great, 2 minute warning.

"Ah well that makes my decision easier then." I said to him but didn't elaborate, slinking back to my desk.

Why do shit companies always do this? I worked there for 6 months - it would have been nice to have had half an hour to say goodbye to the people I'd befriended during that time but no - I'm just a temp - I have no human rights. Cnuts. Well sod them, it seems that in my haste to leave some erm, important files got inadvertently deleted from my PC. This coupled with the fact that the company's IT dept (a drunk called Keith) NEVER did backups meant the twunt manager Mark had to sit in front of my painfully slow PC for hours watching it undelete every single file until he got them back. Of course I didn't do it on purpose. If I'd have done that I'd have deleted the files and then wiped the free space - I'm not stupid ;)

So anyway now it's 3 weeks later and my other half has just quit SI too - she's found a job with less stress and £6k a year more pay. And untold benefits, none of which she got at SI. The department's in a right mess I can tell you. Ho-hum.

I gather it's customary to apologise for the length of one's emissions when relevant. Sorry!
(ToneLeMoan 2atoms.com - Getting Worse All The Time..., Tue 28 Feb 2006, 21:28, Reply)

What larks
Right, last place I worked at I was designated to Goods In and was being trained to get a forklift licence. One day, eeeeaaaarrrrly morning, we got a delivery of stuff on pallets, so I jumped in a forklift and drove out to get them...

... taking half the door with me.

Turns out it wasn't actually open at the time. How was I meant to know?
(MightyMoose has never touched the magenta, Tue 28 Feb 2006, 19:46, Reply)

Beat this
Moved across country to take part in a business with a 'friend'. For the first year, worked for piss wages, because the business was just starting--developing "sweat equity", you see. For the second year, was told we didn't have money to pay me, but, never fear, she'd make me part-owner for my trouble.

Worked for free for 'friend', all the while working a shite job to support myself. This means that I worked seven days a week with rarely more than 10 hours off between shifts at either job.

After a small row over a piddly little sum ($300 American), she decided that this "wasn't working out" and changed the locks on the business, effectively sacking me. Totally forgetting that shed promised to make me part owner. Totally forgetting that I'd been working like a dog, for free, for months.

I did find a better job within days of her sacking me. The silver lining to the whole experience taught me that the man I was dating WAS in fact an absolute gem, because the only way anyone would stay with a woman who was as crazy as I was from all that work would be because they're there for the long haul. We're still together.
(herbivorous, Tue 28 Feb 2006, 18:10, Reply)