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)