Air biscuit and a P45, vicar?
Years ago, I was misguided enough to try and sell vacuum cleaners, the ones that cost £1100 quid. After a heavy night of ale and a kebab, I was sent to a presentation at a clergyman's house. It was obvious from the word go that they weren't going to buy this overpriced heap of Yank shite from a sweating malodorous hungover swine in a cheap suit, but the capper was when the kebab quacked and their dog threw up on the carpet...which I offered to clean up with the Wondervac. Took it back full of canine hurl and threw it at the manager, when he sacked me for "conduct unbecoming a salesman".
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 20:35, Reply)

sandwich-board man
I got a job advertising a local chippy by walking around with a sandwich board proclaiming not that the end was nigh, but that the Kingfisher sold the best fish and chips in Torquay (they didn't).

The job also entailed, as they were needed - a bit of washing up in a knee-high sink, and clearing tables accasionally. One day I was called in to clear some tables, and knocked someones glass flying, which then smashed on the floor. The boss - a hitler-lady with matching 'tache, gave me such a bollocking I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was sacked. And at the time the Job Centre were doing a thing that if you were sacked you had a reduction in benefits for six months or something.

So I called up the next day and said I couldn't come back because my back was getting hurt by the sandwich board and the knbee high sink.
(teasus likes tea, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 20:28, Reply)

record-head
As a teenager, I had rather more money than most, because I was officially in care up until my 18th birthday, but lived in independent accommodation from my 16th.

I thus recieved £75 a week plus rent. My leccy meter was also geared down, so I spent about £1 a month on that. I thought this was normal and got quite a shock when real life hit me in the face, but that's another story...

anyhow, I used to spend lots of my money on music - mostly in the form of second-hand LP's from a record shop just down the road from college.

However, one summer holidays, I discovered drugs in quite big way (it involved a hippie festival in Cornwall and the police looking for me in 7 counties, but thats another story too...) and the main recipient of my cash was now the ganja dealers. I still liked music and still went into the record shop, where they offered me a job.

I only lasted a week, as I alternated from being too stoned to work, to too interested in finding new and cool music to serve people.

They tried to let me down gently, as they obviously still wanted my custom, so they fed me something about not being able to afford to keep me on, because something else had come up. I was stoned enough to believe that at the time, and I've only just realised as I think about it now that it was probably a total crock.
(teasus likes tea, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 20:21, Reply)

Two things I hate...
... are the general public and the catering trade.

So, upon relection, taking a job as a waitress probably wasn't a very good move in the first place.
After slaving my arse off in this upstart little coffee shop/restaurant all summer for one of those pyschotic women you always get in these places - whose life has become so unbearable the only way she can cope is by berating 16 year old girls about putting tea spoons *only in the tea spoon draw*

Was sacked in the autumn because I was coming up to 17 and they didn't want to increase my wage, they had the cheek to predend it was because they were concerned I wasn't concentrating on my studies enough...
F*ckards. I still go in there for time to time, and drink their hellish and overpriced coffee, just so the woman will ask after me and I can tell her how much better my life is than hers. Bitter? never...
(jaffafairy, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 19:35, Reply)

The General Public
I worked for a hearty period of a week in a well known supermarket. 3 days paid training in and I get stuck with night shifts. This is basically sitting at a till, trying not to fall asleep while potential psychos, weirdos and geeks do their weekly shop.

Unfortunately it all got a little too much for me, and so when a rather aggressive and irritating women came to my till and started to complain that I had put her satsuma, tangarine, clementine and grapefruit all through as oranges, I just told her to fuck off. When she threatened to complain, I told her to fuck off and complain then and stop wasting my time.

Unfortunately she did. And thats why I will never, ever, ever work with the general public ever again.
(Hobbit, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 19:01, Reply)

i almost got the sack...
when i accidentally wasted 3/4 of a barrel of lager when i changed the barrel. the boss wasn't too happy
(Claude Speed was a Roman called Claudius Speedicus, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 17:07, Reply)

I've never been sacked but...
... a few years ago I worked for a car company that begins with a "T" and a lad got sacked for selling drugs. Rather than meeting up in the toilets at breaktime for the deals, he came up with a "brilliant" plan that involved hiding the stash at a pre-arranged place on the chassis that was slowly being built up as it travelled around the factory, this was then picked up by his druggy mates when the car passed them a few hours later. Clever eh?

This was the same company who promised you a job for life, but if you became injured by the work (and many were) they looked for ways and means to get rid. One poor lad knackered his back totally through work and after a number of operations all on private health care it became obvious he wasn't going to build another car for them ever again. An office job? Not a chance, he was sacked for stealing, and a more honest lad you'd be hard pressed to find.

It was the kind of place that required you to work four weeks notice, hardly anybody did. Someone handed in his notice at the start of the shift and left at dinnertime without telling anyone. His absense went un-noticed for about 20 minutes until another worker went to bolt a part onto something this lad should have done and realised it was missing. The cars travelled around the factory on a slow conveyor that had no reverse gear, and this caused the work factory to stop for two hours whilst they fixed all the problems! Nice one! Even better was him phoning up his boss to say goodbye during the ensuing chaos.

It was one of my happiest days when I left that place.

Sorry for the length, but it's more a curse than a blessing.
(Julian Coped, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 16:37, Reply)

A Friend
Got incredibly drunk the night before a morning shift, passed out. Next morning off to work on a ferry, not realising he had a cock drawn on his face. Didn't last the day.
(KingScott, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 16:11, Reply)

Moral Dilemma
My climbing instructor once told me about his friend who, one day, woke up, looked at his life, what he was doing, and just thought "Fcuk, what the hell am I doing in this job? It will achieve nothing in the long term, and morally it's on the level of raping dead kittens".

He didn't go into work that day, or the next, or the next, and was eventually fired.

His job? (no, not telesales)

Designing detonation devices for nuclear warheads.
(Quantum Sheep was going to type something clever here...but...oh, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 11:29, Reply)

Not sacked but should have been. Every word is true.
I worked for a major govt agency here in Australia for 8 yrs. Due to outsourcing my work day in the last 3 yrs shrunk to around half an hour email activity. So I spent my time hanging out in a utility room I equipped as my own personal batchelor pad with bar fridge, company laptop rebuilt as a cleanskin for pron surfing and dvd watching and reasonably comfy foam mattress. I was the only keyholder. I also booked out spare cars from the car pool as required and had some lovely day trips. I also used my position to convert unused office equipment into cash used for frequent prostitute visits. I always had my extension switched through to the company mobile and acted promptly whenever anything was required of me - usually once a week, except of course if I was at the movies our out on a sightseeing drive or visiting a working lady.
During this time I had three different line managers, none of whom made any effort to restrain me. Then one fine day I was summoned along with 150 others to a national video link up where they gave us the redundancy spiel. After all I took them for they paid $46 000 to get rid of me. I took the laptop and the bar fridge as a memento, and still haven't touched the money.
(rodgerroop, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 10:59, Reply)

I've been fired once.................
Between 2003 and 2005 I was working as a home appraisal photographer........I spent my days on the road, driving all over Southern California taking pictures of houses - seriously! The money was fantastic, couldn't complain at all.

One day, I took the wrong picture of a house - it was in the middle of Compton (yes, Compton near LA) and it was scary just being there. I spotted a vacant lot with what looked like a wendy house, and an actual house next to it.........

My boss (who NEVER checked my work, EVER) decided to do a random check on everyone that day - I should have taken the picture of the Wendy House - not the other house (bear in mind there were no street numbers, you had to go by the land surveryance map (Platt Map for anyone in the US that knows Real Estate)).

He fired me. 4 days before my Wedding!

The next day, he had his wife call me......turns out I was a major asset to the company, and could I start back at work the following day? I said no, I'd come back in 2 weeks after the wedding and the honeymoon.

When I went back to England in the summer, I came back to find the boss had closed up the office, let everyone go, and hadn't even informed me via email.

Even now, the twunt still calls my hubby (they were high school friends) to ask him to change the locks on his new multi-million dollar house! Cunt!
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 8:02, Reply)

Another innocent terminated
There was this bloke where I once worked who opened my eyes to the depths of madness to which people can descend. I never knew how truly paranoid a person could be until encountering the wild fantasies of this individual. Everyone was plotting behind his back. He used to complain about music or even voices being too loud, about people joking and laughing (clearly at his expense) and demand meetings with co-workers and management to deal with his latest wild accusations. Oh, and people on other shifts were using his mug, plate and cutlery.

The feud over the plates was what did him in in the end. He targeted those he believed were the culprits, leaving them notes and sending emails (they worked opposite shifts and rarely met). At the Christmas party, he carried a plate over to their table and smashed it over his head, grinning maniacally at them, while in full view of the CEO et al.

Then one day he went to make a coffee in his mug, only to find it firmly glued to the cupboard. I guess it dawned on him as he stood trying in vain to lift his mug that everyone really was out to get him, really were laughing at him.

That day the workplace was in stitches. Everyone knew who the culprit was, but God love plausible deniability. So the culprit stayed, while the emails that the madman sent to the entire company accusing and threatening people who touched his property were used as a welcome excuse to solve that psychotic problem permanently.

To this day the mug remains as a silent tribute to him and crazy co-workers everywhere. Many have tried their hand at removing the cup, but all have failed. Legend has it that one day, some crazy King Arthur will walk in, casually reach for the mug and pull it free, thus crowning themself the new workplace psycho.


Apologies for length but not duration
(filthytruck, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 4:51, Reply)

sacked? never!
Ha! Its a wonder i've never been sacked.. after frequently telling my managers that they are fucking arseholes, telling them to go fuck themselves at least once a week, cracking the shits at them because they made me do work, cracking the shits because they wouldn't give me the hours i wanted, stealing endless bottles of coke, sprite, diet coke, and pizza after pizza, chicken strips and dipping sauces..

Ended up i just got sick of getting cranky at work so i went in there and told them that after that night i was quitting and was the most badly behaved i've ever been... what could they do? fire me? ha!

ohh dominos.. so desperate for staff that they'll let you get away with anything :D
(brotagaia, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 4:32, Reply)

Not too bright of an idea...
My first job: sacked. The reasoning though, I believe, was a little askew. I had to babysit their child who refused to take the pills that kept him from turning into a complete abusive nutcase. Spawn of Satan that kid was. Sure, supervising him lighting a fire under the fuel tank of his parents car was a bad idea. Giving him pointers may have edged toward the line a little, but c'mon! No one was hurt and nothing really happened...just a little burn mark in the garage.
(somethingwitty, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 4:31, Reply)

good riddance
Back in high school, for some reason I thought it was terribly important that I get accepted to, and attend, A Prestigious University, instead of one we could afford. So like a genius, I turn down a full ride to A College You've Never Heard Of and take on about 48 grand in student debt and the magically wonderful "work-study" job-- as if doing a job which outside the borders of campus would be filled by one of our many welcome visitors from Mexico qualifies as a form of study.

So, my choices were a) food service or b) the desk at the engineering library. I chose the library, figuring if I wanted to work in food service I could skip college altogether. Contrary to what the name "work-study" implies, studying while on the job was strictly forbidden. On my luck days I got to reshelve books. On the other days I had to stand at the front desk, refilling photocopier credit cards, yelling at people who don't sign in (you have to sign in to go to this library. It's special), and telling red-faced engineering students that all of the computers are in use right now, like it's my fault.

My long shift was Sunday evenings, from 7 to 11pm. The week of finals exams, I discovered the final for one particularly god-awful course (some kind of calculus, I think) was at 8am on Monday. So, thinking that the purpose of going to college is the classwork, figure I need to get out of work so I can study, sleep, and have maybe a 50-50 chance of passing this course. Too bad for me that there was no mechanism whatsoever to get out of work on account of class. So after asking ever single other people who worked at the library to cover for me, I decided, fuck it, I'm not going to A Prestigious University so I can hand books to oily boys, I'm staying in to study.

So the next night I get a phone call from the ice-bitch manager, who informs me that failure to show up "could result in my termination." I told her that would be just fine with me, and after that I went to work in the cafeteria. I particularly enjoyed arranging the decorative kale on the salad bar.
( madrabbit is fully prepared, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 3:11, Reply)

Unfortunate inability to acheive mediocrity...
I've only been sacked the once that I remember. Whilst living on the southeast coast of Australia and a (to then) successful few years in various hospitality management positions I had an unfortunate incident where I couldn't restrain myself from telling my current employers what I actually thought of their business practices and saved them the trouble by quitting. Gee, it feels good doesn't it? At least until reality kicks in and on the way home you stop off to buy some celebratory beers and properly consider the fact that you now have no income. Luckily, I found a job the very next day as a duty manager at a big resort just up the coast. Xmas was coming up so it was packed full of people, and they'd had quite a bit of staff attrition so it was a case of get in and do your best. I soon came to realise that this place was even worse run, but being noble old me I did my best to actually deal meaningfully with customer complaints (many), treat the staff on my shifts with respect and encouragement, and get things fixed as they broke. 3 months later my probationary contract was over and I was set for a meeting with the GM, presumably to now discuss a pay rise. It was a short meeting.
GM: "Going on what I've seen this last few months it's obvious that you're a committed hospitality professional....."
Silence.
Me: Raised eyebrow ("go on..")
GM: "... which is why you're not going to fit in here."

Cnut.
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 2:39, Reply)

Call Centres Suck
I got sacked from working in a Call Centre a couple of years back.
They decided that turning up at 11:30am for a 9:00am - 5:00pm shift wasn't acceptable and forgot to tell me.... well, y'know.. until they fired me.

I think what pissed them off most though was the fact that i'd only been sat down for 5 minutes before logging off my phone and going for a coffee.

Boring, I know, but I did treat myself to a DVD on the way home.. treating myself for being fired.... odd.

No apologies for length... it's a genetic disorder, leave me alone.
(tylrdiablos, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 2:20, Reply)

Mugs.
A few years ago I worked for a rather large company in the engineering world. They made a particular type of yellow digger.

Being cheesy and annoying, they continually tried to motivate people with buzzwords and shite like "blue sky thinking", Kaizen, and other such complete bollocks.

This company gave EVERYONE a mug. Upon these mugs was a slogan "We can't spell 'Success' without 'U'" 2 days later, they layed off Jim.

We went and got a mug made for him: "We can't spell 'Redundancy' without 'U'"
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Sun 26 Feb 2006, 1:34, Reply)

Also thought this sorta applied to the topic...
I applied for an after-school job at chuckie E.cheese (for you brits it's an american kid's pizza place with a ball pit and tickets for prizes). The manager seemed interested in hiring me since I had a job with children before (not babysitting) and I had huge knockers. Unfortunately a week later I get a call back asking me to drive halfway across town to Chuck E. Cheeses to be told I couldn't be hired because my grades were too high and I couldn't commit fully as an employee.

At this time they had a "good grades" campaign where if you brought in your good report card you would get free tokens for games in number relative to the amount of A's, B's, etc. I didn't understand it.

I even told the guy in my interview I never did any schoolwork so school was not a problem. Cheeky bastard.
(HaMM, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 1:19, Reply)

I've never been sacked
But my dad sure has. His company told him he needed to sell more a certain brand of products or they will fire him. He refuses and adds they'll never do so because he is too important. They fire him on the spot and he leaves saying they're all a bunch of nasty cunts and such and he quits.

My mom joking asks later on "why are you home so early? Fired?" to which he replies "well actually yes I was". He never got another job after that except for temp work (which he actually makes decent money doing but blows it all on his mid-life crisis band equipment).

It was also my 13th birthday. What a great way to become a teenager.

The other day he bought me a suit for my new job starting this summer. Ironic.
(HaMM, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 1:11, Reply)

last pub job i held
I'm an aussie, and while traversing the globe a couple of years ago landed a job pulling pints in London to stave of hunger and homelessness.

The last shift I did was from midday on a Saturday after a rather huge night on the turps. I turned up a little worse for wear, and spent most of the shift hiding from the boss, vomiting into a corner in the cellar where all the kegs were kept. About 3 spews later the boss caught me, and told me to go home and get sorted out before coming back. On the way out I munted for the fourth time, but rather publicly onto some poor punter who was enjoying a beer out the front. I went home a couple of months later, but never set foot in that pub, or any other within a 3 mile radius again.
(dialagranny, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 0:14, Reply)

A bit off subject...
Never been fired, but I was told I wasn't suitable to work at Tesco's as a shelf stacker. Because - and I quote - "I didn't appear to have the right know how for the job." Funny considering I went on to work as a broker in a top London firm for two years before getting a degree.
(Biromunch, Sun 26 Feb 2006, 0:08, Reply)

I've never
Been sacked, mainly because I have run my own company for the last 8 years but I have sacked a fair few people in my time, mainly for being lazy or just rubbish at their job. The best sacking was when we got rid of a guy because he was too smelly. Obviously we chickened out and told him it was because he was surplus to requirements. Which was kind of true as we did not have any need of smelly rubbish programmers at that time. When he left someone was cleaning his keyboard out, turned it upside down and loads of pubic hairs fell out. I always thought he stayed late in the office to work!

Actually reading many of these stories, I'm glad I don't emply half of you lazy feckers. How dare we employers expect our staff to turn up and do a full days work and not even steal from us!

No apologies for length; your mum loves it!
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 22:58, Reply)

I've actually never been sacked
but did punch the second in command of the whole company in the face one time at a conference. He was slagging off the office I work in and I politely told him if he continued, I would punch him. He continued and so I lamped him twice. He said 'You're sacked!' and I told him to tell someone who gave a fuck.

I still work there, he does not....
( Blue Star was working part time at the 5 and Dime, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 22:04, Reply)

I left before the layoffs and got revenge in the end
Many years ago I worked for a total knob jockey called Stewart in Milton Keynes who had a web media company. He was a total git. When he stopped turning up to work for a few weeks it occurred to me I'd been working on company projects not client work for some time and decided the company was in trouble so decided to leave. I got a load of crap off the boss for leaving then 3 months later he made lots of people redundant anyway.

After 6 months one client asked me to do some work for them as Stewart had verbally shouted in the office about how much he hated that client and would never do work for them again I saw no harm and did a little freelance.

Much to surprise after Stewart found out he went around telling anyone who knew me I stole from the company! (What a wanker).

Several years later his company went bust but reformed with a similar name etc but I decided to get revenge and emailed every client I could find telling them he'd gone bust and offering my services instead. He attemped to sue me! But I pointed out that my contract had been with his previous company which was now bankrupt and his new company had no covenant/gag order to prevent me talking to his clients :-)

Got nothing for me but I liked screwing him over, cost to him:
Lost face, lost clients, 6 x solicitors letters plus their consultation costs.

Cost to me: 2 phone calls and some emails!

He he ;-)
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 21:58, Reply)

I was only 17... During lunch I animatedly told some people how much of a cunt I thought my manager was.
The dark shadow that crossed their faces told me that yes, he'd turned up right behind me.

I hadn't even lasted a week.

But then, I had responded to an Ad saying 'Are YOU a BIG hitter? - Earn 50,0000 cold calling to people who'd stab you through the eyes as you slept if only they could find out where you live'

needless to say i'd earned myself nothing less all my train fares up to london. better out than in.
( Mortal Wombatteries not included - Awesome Awesome Awesome, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 21:55, Reply)

Leather goods and bullet proof jackets!
Hello all,
My story goes back to before I moved from South Africa to the UK.
When I was about 19 I managed to get a job in a leather factory that specialised in making gun-holsters and bullet proof jackets. As it was SA, this was a busy business, but I couldn't help thinking I was helping to kill people.
I was tasked with putting together a nice little website for them to peddle their wares, but I wasn't enjoying it at all.

Thoughtfully, the manager had put me in the room with the photocopiers... and printers... but not just any printers! A laser that etches out any shape you want onto any surface you want! How could I not play with it???

Lets just say that I was caught one too many times etching my name and some pictures of "bad things" into pencils and bits of leather.

Oops!
(FrozenDreamer, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 20:44, Reply)

And actually, I kind of DO have a story...
Since the story below about Rutger, P and Geedub, I've left the company. I got married, and moved away. I gave Rutger & P 9 months warning, as I didn't want to keep things secret then give a month's notice, then worked right up to my last day, giving my best all along. I'd been there 10 years after all, these guys were my friends as well as my bosses.

Rutger and P came to my wedding, congratulated me, bought me gifts and made all the usual "keep in touch" comments, only since then P has slagged me off to anyone who knows me, refuses to have my name spoken in the office and threatens to sack anyone if he finds out they've been in contact with me.

It appears that, for reasons best known to himself, he's sacked me as his friend.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 16:25, Reply)

Alas, I don't have an answer for this week's QOTW
...but I do have a relevant story, which I'll post here if I may:

I used to work for a small sales company in London. There were three bosses, for the sake of anonymity (unless you know them) let's call them Rutger, P and Geedub.

Geedub was/is an alcoholic, which is where his nickname of Geedub comes from - it's short for GW, the initials of "God Watch", rhyming slang for Scotch - his tipple of choice.

So, gradually, Geedub's problem got worse and worse, and he was dragging the company down with him. Rutger didn't seem to want to do anything for a long time, much to P's annoyance, but finally things got beyond a joke. Geedub started phoning the office from his desk and quickly answering the incoming call, then holding extremely long and drawn out conversations with no-one, which invariably ended with him having to pop out to see whichever customer he's just pretended to speak to, then returning bang on 5:30 reeking of booze and as pissed as a fart. He nearly got caught once, when the guy he was pretending to hold forth with on the phone appeared at the trade counter. Geedub then pretended he'd been talking to the guy's boss.
After many many months of this, finally a private detective agency was brought in to keep tabs on him.
To cut a sad story short, they found that he was going out to strip clubs, brothels, pubs, and porn video shops, whilst telling us he was off to see a customer. Sadly, his wife worked for us too, and in the best love is blind style, refused to see that he had a drink problem. She even told us once that he must have great hearing, because he got up every night at 4 o'clock to "let the dogs out for a wee" and she couldn't even hear them... his booze dependency by then was so bad it was waking him up to go and get a drink.

Anyway - finally, Rutger and P confronted him and suggested he think about a new career, which he did. Unbelievably, he went to run a pub, but that's a whole other story.

Finally, I can apologise for length and mean it...
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sat 25 Feb 2006, 16:22, Reply)