Ah, Zebidee...
Zebidee probably wasn't his real name, but there was this old Jamaican chap at the cold-calling double glazing call centre I worked at for two weeks who got fired for paying tribute to the humour of Sid James.

Specifically, Zebidee was sacked for his regular response to female potential customers who attempted to rebuff his sales pitch by informing him they'd already had their double glazing done: "I'm very glad to hear that madam, but can I confirm that you've been done in the front and the rear?"
(oranguturn, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 17:42, Reply)

I should have got sacked....
I used to work as a security guard, mainly on building sites.
Best place I ever got to guard was a printing press for the Irish news.
That is, it was the best when I found out they had computers installed and running on what was, at the time, a stupidly large connection.
They were just sitting there, not being used, how could I resist?

With nobody else around, I would use the computer to do whatever the hell I wanted. I downloaded porn, films, played counterstrike, you name it. Hell, I even stuck on an FTP and used it to host all kinds of crazy shit.

One day they figured out that something was wrong, they checked all of the computers and found all of the stuff I had downloaded and installed.
Luckily for me, I wasn't on Duty. But another guard, a Russian named Constantine who could barely even use the radio, let alone use a computer, was on duty and because he happened to be on duty when they found the stuff, he got the full blame. And the sack. And taken to court. And eventually deported back to Russia.

I'm going straight to hell.
(Kushan just wants to fit in..to your mum, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 17:25, Reply)

I used to get the sack a lot
but then again, it was inevitable; I was one of Santa's little helpers unpaid labourers.

Edit: that Rudolf was a right cunt as well.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 17:17, Reply)

Last year Wales bt. England in the six nations...
It doesn't happen very often, and there were a few jokes doing the rounds. Working in England, and getting stick every year when Wales lost, I thought this a rare gloating opportunity. One of the jokes was about a court case. The judge granted custody of a child to the England rugby team, because "they wouldn't beat anyone". I decided to do a fake bbc news page, and sent the link to 15 non-English friends.

Two weeks later I was receiving random emails from all over the world, referring to the news item. I could not delete the page from our web-server at work. On the same morning I was trying and failing to do this, the BBC complained to my employers (a well respected UK institution!).

The web server was so busy fetching the page that I couldn't delete it. It had received half a million hits in the previous five days.

The BBC and our webmaster were very understanding about the whole thing, but I must admit I was petrified!
(echo3 can't draw (or spell), Fri 24 Feb 2006, 17:13, Reply)

Aussie outback stations are exploitative cnuts
Backpacking in Australia, I took on some fairly poor jobs, all to finance my travels.

Worst of the bunch would have to be King's Creek camel station out near Alice Springs. Run by a really odd family of bushpigs, and their alcoholic monkey named Moz.

They expected 6 12 hour days a week from you, no perks at all, miles from any form of entertainment, even a pub, so I decided to erm entertain myself with one of the Aussie helicopter pilots. He was 21 and single, I was 22 and ditto, surely no problem there? Except that one morning after said helicopter pilot had gone to work, I was caught having breakfast in my nightie with his 33-year-old married colleague by one of the bushpigs. It was all perfectly innocent but they made their smallminded assumptions about it.

Rather than do the decent thing and have it out with me upfront, allowing me to make my case, they made petty issue with me for the next couple of weeks - accusing me of giving the older pilot 'too many chips' from the canteen (how this is possible in a standard size standard chip container they didn't make clear...) and accusing me of not pulling my weight when it was MY DAY OFF! etc etc

For some reason I put up with this cack, until I was unceremoniously sacked, and told I was out of there on a bus that very morning! Presumably they didn't tell me the day before because they knew I would've partied the night away with my friends and no one would've been fit to work the following day.

Anyway, it wasn't all that bad, I got a free tour round the sights of Ayres Rock, Kings Canyon etc cos the bus driver was a mate of the pilot I was getting jiggy with!

Result.

Apologise for length (so did he)
(DustyMonkey, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 17:11, Reply)

Sort of sacked...
Ok, so I was paying them rather than the other way around, but my piano teacher asked me to leave and never come back. I was upset at the time, but when you think about it it's the Albert Hall's loss, not mine.
(oranguturn, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:59, Reply)

Happy go lucky gas meter man!
When I was a student the summers consisted of getting any kind of work that offers income for not much effort... luckily it turned out that British Gas were up to something and needed lots of extra meter readers for the summer...

SO, I attempted the job properly for about a week and began to realise that people dont want their meters read and generally could be difficult about it.

I'd had fun until then... I'd flirted with any woman who appeared to be under 30 and answered the door. I'd even fooled about with one lady who on reflection was probably quite a dirty slut but anyway I was young and had an idea...

I reckoned that generally people used between 50 and 100 units of gas since their previous readings... So I went to an off licence, bought a 3 litre bottle of cider and went to the park... Where I proceeded to randomly make up peoples meter readings by adding a number between 1 and 100 to their previous reading.

After about 2 weeks of doing this I was challenged on a few readings. At first I claimed "maybe" I got 2 numbers round the wrong way, or mixed it up with another house but I think I was consistently off the mark and told "my service was no longer required". I still sat in the park on sunny weekdays getting pissed but alas was not getting paid for it ;-)
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:53, Reply)

'Not sure'...
... but I've just been offered a £4000 severance payout to leave a job I hate. Tra la la la la I love my job.....
(smack rabbit, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:47, Reply)

I'm a postman...
But I got made redundant...wait, I think I told that wrong...
(Quantum Sheep was going to type something clever here...but...oh, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:40, Reply)

sacked from nothing
When I was a young wannabe hoping to get a job in radio, I got a slot on a local community radio station. I managed to blag a competition prize but forgot to post it to the winner for about 2 months. So they kicked me off the air.
The bastards didn't tell me that however until after I finally got round to sending it.
The prize, further proof that Kelly Jones is an evil curse on British music - a stereophonics t shirt. It was rubbish.
(kriskina, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:17, Reply)

I'm a Rabbi
I got fired because I got the sac.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:13, Reply)

Only once...
Between the ages of 13 and 16 I used to have a paper round, a paper round which I took very seriously as it was my first job when I was 13 and involved collecting money, and a bit of "book-keeping", this was in a quiet Cambridge village. So I was quite accomplished by the age of 16, however the newspaper in question decided that it wasn't the proper thing to have a "child" collecting money from customers, as it was "dangerous".

Well that pissed me off as obviously I'd been doing it for 4 years and got quite the christmas tip (around £70), anyway I was still supposed to deliver the papers and they put this grumpy old bitch from the village in charge of money collection.

Occasionaly my brother would cover for me, over time he had also got quite nifty & I trusted him entirely to do them. So after this woman took over she was now "in charge", not thinking about it I told my brother to cover one day, sure enough he completed the round no problems. The next day this woman's son, on the school bus, tells me while laughing that "I'm sacked", I actually couldn't think of any reason why this might be true so thought nothing of it.

Turned up to do my round and sure enough I'd been sacked, she looked quite shocked to see me, but the conversation went:

her "Your sacked"
me "why"
her "You didn't turn up"
me "my brother did"
her "Don't care"

she didn't have the guts to tell me to my face. I told my parents who decided to write a letter to said paper, who couldn't give a shit, I sent letters round the people I'd delivered to for all those years, who couldn't give a shit. Thats the Cambridge way!!!.

Anyway 8 years later her son permanently thinks he's an orange because he took too much acid once. HAH.
(Miss_Blue, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:12, Reply)

Probly bindun
Not me, but...

My Grandad got the sack pretty much every day.

He was a postman.

Thankyouverymuch
(D-A-P, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 16:07, Reply)

I was sacked by DS-MAX pyramid marketing cunts
I turned up for a job as an "advertising manager", which should have read "door-to-door chugger" for that was what my job was.

For the week I lasted it was absolute hell - they had me doorstepping after dark on estates where I wouldn't have gone during daytime if I was armed to the teeth, most of the people I met couldn't afford basic hygeine products and certainly didn't have bank accounts (which we needed for the direct debit forms). During this week I was told that I wouldn't receive any comission on a sale because the customer had used a blue pen instead of a black one on a form (give me the fucking form back, and I'll go over it in black, you cunts). I made another sale but felt incredibly guilty as the lady I sold it to had around 200 cats and was completely senile. On my final day I was told to "fuck off" by no less that three members of the public. I went straight to the pub, where the barman said "sounds like you've got a shit job, why not work for Banks's?", for that was the name of the brewery.

It took me two days to get a job with Banks's and I'd work for them again in a shot. Because no-one tells you to fuck off if you're selling them booze.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 15:35, Reply)

equant
ok so i workewd for a company for 2 months only to find out i was being made redundant. went to the agency and in a panic took the first job going which was working for equant doing network monitoring. after being there i discovered the team was run like a nazi concentration camp and having come from an ad agency background fucking hated it. my co workers were wankers and the whole thing stunk of dog poo. so after getting ready for my 3rd day there i decided i had had enough and just stopped going in. i got a few phone calls from them which i ignored and over the next 2 weeks thought nothing of it and managed to find a sweet job. worked there for a further month at my new job when i got a letter through the post from equant stating that because i was not turning up to work this was deemed gross misconduct and that i had till the end of the month to contact them otherwise i would be fired. they also mentioned that i would be paid up until my firing date so i just ignored that too and got the paycheck from my new job along with another transfer to my back for just under 4 grand.

so that works out at £2000 a day for the time i was working there

thankyou equant.

i also had a job doing IT support for electronic arts but they fired me when they discovered i had brought my chiped xbox to work and was transferring pirated xbox games to another xbox in the IT support lab.

i was instantly dismissed but then it was discovered that the other xbox i was transferring to belonged to the son of the person who fired me.

egg on their face me thinks

doh!
(linus, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 15:25, Reply)

Teenage hardware love blues
I was a spotty 16 year old and much in puppy love with Elaine who worked in the local Wimpy burger bar. I used to go there for lunch every day when on my break as an underpaid shopboy at the local hardware store in Aylesbury and I'd pass her silly little love notes when she served me.
I scribbled one such note on a piece of A6 (tiny) sized paper from a pad next to the till in the hardware shop. The hardware manager standing at the till glared at me as if I had just pissed on his mothers' corpse, but I shrugged it off due to his being pissed off for me continually refusing his sexual advances.

Got back to work after lunch and was quizzed by the owner about a reported theft - the manager told him that I had been acting suspiciously near the till and that there was a tenner missing (not by my hand).
The manager it seems had set me up and I duly got the sack. Most upset I started to walk home to a sure good hiding and then had a thought...
I returned to the shop and told the owner Mr Hasberry about the arse touching tendencies of his respectable married manager and about how good a story I thought the local paper might make of it.
He actually muttered “God, not again” and gave me a very nice written reference and a months pay.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 15:03, Reply)

Summer Job
Finding myself with no money and nothing to do whilst college was out, I landed a temporary summer job delivering paper to local offices. I spent a morning learning the rules and regulations, watching the mandatory training video and being regaled with tales of all the en route secretaries my colleagues had supposedly had relations with. Brilliant says I.

After lunch I was given a list of businesses, a map and the keys to the van. Got in, tuned the radio, lit a smoke, put it in gear.

SCREEECH! BANG!

I flew right across the car park, over the main road and broadsided a parked Audi injuring the driver who was reading a paper.

As if I had not already had a bad day the bastards fired me.
(DrTugnut, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 14:17, Reply)

I once held a job for a grand total fo seventeen minutes.
I was once rung up in the middle of a Friday afternoon by an agency with a job to start on the following Monday. Would I go in for the end of the day got there at 13 minutes past 4 and the day ended at half past.

I was lead into a room with loads of red braced yuppie types sitting round a table talking through telephones, and felt instant dread. the job was in telesales. Two minutes after I had sat down, and been introduced to other people a manager type came in and a guy at the far end of the table stood up, shot to attention and shouted 'I've sold Two insurance policies, and a life insurance policy' then immediately sat down. the next person then did exactly the same thing. this continued all the way round the table till it got to me who just shrugged, then continued back down to the manager.

Aftter this had got to the end, and I'd managed to unwind my eyelids from my forehead, the manager shouted 'And we will now all sing the company song'

Everyone round the table got up and started singing apart from me who went from shock, to pissing myself with laughter.

I was absolutely amazed that they still said they would see me on the Monday.

when I got homeI rang the agency to say that I wouldn't be going back only to be told that I'd been fired, because they didn't think that I had the right attitude.

still as a bonus, they had to pay me for a full day, which came to about £100 for those 17 minutes.
(ceebs, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 14:02, Reply)

Slutty McSlut-Slut
Back in my days as a booze-peddler I'd reached the heady heights of Bar Manager by 19. Fired a 25-year-old barmaid for clearly having her fingers in the till. The following night she orally pleasured the 64-year-old landlord in the gents, got rehired in the new position of 'senior bar manager' and promptly sacked me. I wasn't prepared to employ the same tactics to get my job back. Bitch.
(oodles, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 13:49, Reply)

15 times in 10 days...
My friend and I got sacked a total of 15 times in 10 days.

Daz and I needed to escape London due to the realisation that our party lifestyle was having a detrimental effect on our health and the fact that we owed about a thousand pounds to an ex-SAS amphetamine dealer (Mistake #1).

We found an ad in Southern Cross Magazine (an antipodean magazine advertising shit jobs and shitter flats to backpackers). This ad said we could travel up to Norfolk (Mistake #2) and work in the agricultural sector and get free accomodation and food. Sounded great.

So we wind up living in this run-down hostel with a bunch of illegal South-Africans (aren't they all?), working in carrot factories, cat-food canneries, and premade-sandwich packers. Luckily we had brought with us quite a little pharmacy, and were able to self-medicate the boredom out of the jobs.

Unfortunatly, when one takes certain drugs, one becomes quite silly, and the jobworths supervising us didn't take too kindly to the fact that we were throwing catfood, buggering old ladies with carrots (Mistake #3), and other such agriculture-related shennanigans. So they sacked us.

And then found new places for us to work.

And then sacked us again.

Ad nauseum.

So the last place they sent us to work, thinking in their small, Norfolk minds that we'd calm down and take our jobs seriously, was the warehouse of Hamelys, the largest toy store in Britain. Silly fuckers.

I got sacked for shooting the boss in the face with a doll launched from a catapult.

Daz got sacked for performing felatio on a cardboard cut-out of Princess Leah.

Yeah, so we left Norfolk, returned to London, and got back on the bandwagon that is Brixton on a Saturday Night.

Lovely stuff.
( Demonic Omelette, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 13:49, Reply)

I love the Co-Op
I've been sacked once, and rightly so.

At the age of 17 the boss decided to put me in charge of ordering the tobacco and spirits for the supermarket, rather ingeniously he also put me in charge of stock checking.

By the time they eventually caught me stealing a box cigars (ok I was bored by this time) I'd "borrowed" several packs of cigs, several bottles of vodka and whisky and drunken many beers and eaten plenty of food in the warehouse.

Amazingly the boss was reluctant to let me go, it was only the arsehole security guard that made him sack me.

1 year later my boss was sacked for stealing towels, TOWELS!!! I mean come on, at least I got caught nicking something decent, not cheap soddin' towels !
(Laxly, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 13:38, Reply)

Bouncer
I was sacked as a bouncer after I was beaten up on the 1st night
(noggin, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 13:25, Reply)

My sister in law
blagged her way into a temp job many years ago at a legal firm. Among other things, she said she could type 60 words a minute, when, in reality, she could probably do about 6.

On her first (and last) day, one of the solicitors gave her a pile of urgent work to edit and type up.

They came in 2 hours later, and asked how she was doing. 'Fine', she said, 'nearly finished'. They came in again another hour later, and again another hour later - and so on throughout the day. 4pm came and went, and they were gradually getting more and more agitated and suspicious.

In the end, the solicitor told her that if she didn't have in finished in 10 minutes, the shit would really hit the fan.

So, she did the only thing she could think of at the time. She shut her office door, picked up the typewriter, and threw it on the floor. When they came running in, she said 'I don't know what happened - one minute I was typing, the next it just fell off the desk'. She was told to go home and not come back.
(8-Ball, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 13:08, Reply)

revenge is petty !!
bunch of cunts i used to work for "made me redundant" after I complained that the HR Director had clamped my car in the company car park for "parking in a half space". Was I bitter - too right!! Revenge was very petty, but very satisfying !
(1)They had to let me keep my company car for the length of notice (6 weeks) - it went back to them stinking of fish, thanks to the numerous bits of cod and prawns I hid in the heater vents, under the carpet in the seats etc.
(2) I originally set up all their spreadsheet templates, in my period of "consultation" I put in a macro to change various values after a certain date in random cells
(3) The dozy bastards didn't realise their dotcom domain name expired, so I bought it up, and pointed it to a newspaper report of the MD being done for kerbcrawling. They want it back now, but I sold it to a mate in Vietnam, and I think they have lost the will to fight their way thru the Vietnamese legal system !!
(4) .. I just remembered more petty revenge - the aforementioned HR Director has a distinctive surname and lives in a small village. The months following my dismissal saw "him" write a lot of letters to the local rag with some fairly extreme right wing views !!
(skyblue1987, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 12:27, Reply)

And it was my birthday...
I used to work in a newsagent’s as a sixth former, all day Saturday, then opening up and working Sunday morning on my own. I had keys, and in fact had worked there before the new owners bought the shop, so I knew the business pretty well. On the occasion of my 17th birthday, I had a huge party Saturday night and was not working the Sunday – I was having a well-deserved lie in, the first for many months. My friend and colleague was covering for me. At about nine on the Sunday morning I get a call from my friend to say that she’s overslept. She should have had the paper rounds out by 8. I rush down there to help her out and try and get everything fixed. My boyfriend has to come with me coz he can’t get a train home for another few hours (small-town northern England on a Sunday), so he’s hanging out, helping us get everything sorted. Just as I’ve fixed it, for no pay, on my birthday lie-in Sunday, the owners ‘pop in to see how we’re getting on’, which never happened, and promptly fired my mate for ballsing it up. They told me to come back Wednesday, and they’d see about me keeping my job. I went back Wednesday, the male owner hid in the back room and let his wife talk to me. She said they’d sacked me on Sunday, for having my boyfriend in the shop, and she didn’t understand what I was doing there. I was obviously quite upset, since I’d been running their damn shop for a couple of years, and said so to my parents when I got home. My dad took me back to the shop later that day and shouted at the owners until they apologised profusely and offered me my job back, which I refused. Then they wrote me a reference. Then my dad said ‘Right, come on, we’re going home now, before I get angry’. He’s a big man, and he’d almost reduced the proprietor to tears by that stage. It was delightful.
(Silky, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 12:06, Reply)

my boss was fired for bullying me once
that was interesting. Someone else told the company owner that he was being a total git to everyone in particular, and me specifically ( don't know why...) and everyone was asked to give in statements about it, including me.

After his sacking, he walked into the office, said to me "I don't know what you said, Dan - but it obviously worked", and marched off. As I left that evening, I half expected him to be waiting outside with a large knife.

edit - about a month or so later, after quite a bit of restructuring, I had to go to the owner of the company and tell him that I didn't mind if he made me redundant - it was obvious he needed to... He'd "released" most of the staff, and I was wandering around with nothing to do.
(teasus likes tea, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 11:48, Reply)

I should have been fired (or at least disciplined)
5 years ago I had a boring admin job whose only redeeming feature was that I worked on a team with 3 lovely young ladies. Abbie sat to my left; she was 21, slim, blond, attractive but a total space cadet and jittery with it. Very jittery, if somebody dropped a file loudly she would flinch noticeably.

Whenever I made the coffee she would always remind me that she only took half a teaspoonful of coffee, what she called “granny coffee” as it was so weak. This one time I accidentally used a whole spoonful so I put more milk in to hide the stronger colour and taste. Abbie didn’t notice.

Now I’m not a bad person, and I liked Abbie, but the mischief switch in my head went and the challenge was on to see how strong I could make her coffee before she noticed. Obviously I had to start low and increase the dosage each time.

A few days later a manager named John caught me in the kitchen counting out 4 spoonfuls of coffee into Abbie’s cup. “What are you doing?” he asked. I didn’t know he was stood behind me so I was a bit flustered and just fessed up, “I’m seeing how much I can drug Abbie with coffee, you see…if you use more milk it masks the colour and taste…” I trailed off nervously.

The manager took a step closer, looked at the cup, looked at me again and said without changing facial expression, “Well put some more in then”. Well thank fuck for the Y Chromosome! If it had been a female manager I would have been toast.

It had to stop a few days later, I was up to 5 spoonfuls which to put in context is a 1000% increase in dosage. Abbie was noticeably twitchier. I got a phone call that was for her, I turned to my left and said that I was putting a call through which she duly acknowledged, when she picked up I said in the killer from ‘Scream’ voice “HELLO ABBIE, DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES!?”….

She screamed. Loudly. Then cried. A lot.

The female power-dressing megalomaniac office manger fixed me with a cold stare. Nothing was said but the experiment was over. I was super nice to Abbie after that and reduced her coffee intake back to normal “Granny” strength. I’m sure drugging colleagues with coffee is a sackable offence, it should be.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 11:42, Reply)

That's not a monkey that's my wife
I hereby sack you from mensa. It is evident you don't have the necessary qualities.You have the wit of Bobby Davro, the charm of a drunken redneck, the punctuation ability of a retarded shrimp and doubtless the personality of a fake burberry scarf.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 24 Feb 2006, 11:13, Reply)