The worst place I ever worked was the warehouse of a national chain store that sells discount clothing and overpriced tat.
It had a sullen, hostile atmosphere, people never stayed more than a few months at a time, and the management were control freaks to a man. An example of the latter: one day, I clocked in at 5.57 instead of 6.00, and received a 15-minute dressing down for my heinous crime. Out of everyone I've met who'd worked there, not one of them had anything positive to say about it.

Imagine my delight two years later, when I went past it on the way to a new job and saw its once ostentatious frontage reduced to an ugly, bare expanse of nothing, overlooking a completely empty car park. The hell-hole had been mothballed.

This malicious feeling of joy was short-lived, though. When I'd worked at the old place, a dwarfish woman-like thing had been my supervisor and had never once spoken to me directly, communicating through her senior colleagues instead. About an hour after starting at the new place, I saw she too worked there; not only that, but she held an authoritative position in a section where I was due to start the following week. To say I was gutted would be understatement of the year.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 22:17, Reply)