Musicians
I don't know if non-musicians will find this funny, but what the hell. I'll post a link.

So, at the moment we're playing Elgar's 'cello concerto. This is Yo-Yo Ma playing it: www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM9DPfp7-Ck&feature=related One of the bassoons was heard to comment on it, "This piece would be a lot better if the tempo stayed in one place."

...
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:50, 7 replies)

Panic time
This QOTW is sending shivers down my spine. I simply *know* I'm going to end up reading something written about me.
(ed-z, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:49, 6 replies)

Frodo
Seriously.
Sam would have been a lot better off it he'd just bumped him and got on with the job.
EVERY time a Nazgul, an ork, or some random forest creature (like, perhaps a Hedgehog. Mmm, yes.) passed by he'd get up, show himself to the enemy, then faint or put that bloody ring on.
I mean, come on! Fucking liability. People have been shot for less than what that twat did.
Sam should have booted him in bollocks, quietly smiled to himself and pushed the curled up figure of Frodo into that volcano.

And breathe....
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:41, 5 replies)

This place has actually, finally, run out of ideas.
shame.
(Unstable-Dan looks like that bloke out of Scream, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:40, 10 replies)

Actual conversation taken from my short time working in the Aerospace industry
Right wing Bigot: Fucking gays, they should all have their balls cut off!

Bigot trying to be left wing: I've got no problem with gays as long as they don't touch up my kids.

Me: *facepalm*


Note: Bigot trying to be left wing didn't have kids, which is probably a good thing.
( Peej, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:36, 16 replies)

Paul.
When I was 19 I worked with a guy called Paul. Paul and I were the same age, and he was pretty intelligent and good at his job. The problem was that he had a massive knowledge gap of what you'd assume were commonly known facts. Over the years I worked with him he came out with many staggeringly misinformed quotes. Here are 2 of my favourites :

Whilst trying to lose some weight Paul took to eating a slice of icing topped carrot cake after every lunch as "carrots are healthy, aren't they?".

He was convinced (around the age of 22) that humans had an endless supply of teeth and that it didn't matter that one of his had fallen out (probably due to carrot cake corrosion) as it would grow back.
( Evil Bastardo, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:35, Reply)

Lassie.
Fucking idiot.
( Pretender, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:29, 2 replies)

company i worked for had a receptionist
(who genuinely had a phobia about buttons, but I digress). She came back from lunch one day having bought an item from Peacocks - the shop. Giggling like children, one of us nabbed the bag and one used a marker pen to write the word 'drew' above 'peacocks'.
When she finally noticed, the blank expression on her face made it clear she didn't get it.
"Say it" we said
"Drew Peacocks" she says.
"again"
"Drew Peacocks"
this went on and on with us yelling "Faster!" and "Put the words together", and her screaming "Droopy cocks, droopy cocks, droopy cocks!" in the office.
She never got it.
(Redbull_(UK) pfffft, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:26, 2 replies)

I know someone
so stupid that they think this is not a recycled question.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:12, 3 replies)

this person is so stupid
and that makes me clever.

Times seven hundred or so posts.

For a week.

Oh how we laughed at the plebs...

And felt like smug smug cunts.
(Gulliver, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:09, 16 replies)

I used to work somewhere affectionately known as the spastic factory
This was infact a brewery, but the calibre of staff varied greatly.

Dale, for that is his name, was one such character. His stupidity knew no bounds. He believed that WWF, the wrestling lot not the pandas, was real, he didn't know where the sun went at night and believed you could catch up with a previous tube on the circle line, yours just had to go faster than the first one.

His job was to clean the brewing vessels, large, stainless steel tubs that he would climb down into and scrub with various chemicals. The previous person to do this job was in the process of suing the company as using these products in a confined space had given him respiratory problems.

To err on the side of caution and health and safety Dale was given a monitoring device, which would beep at regular intervals, the closer together the beeps, the more hazadous gas in the air, and so, you would think, a constant beep would result in a hasty exit.

Not so for Dale. One day I look over the tun whilst trying to locate this annoying buzzing, and see Dale happily scrubbing away with all manner of chemicals. "What's that buzzing Dale?" I ask.

"It's this thing. Motinors (sic) the air."

"Surely that buzzing's not good"

"Nah mate! Got to be worried if it stops making a sound. Then there'll be no air in here"

At that point I decided to stop the conversation and let him get on with it. Last I heard he was off on extended sick leave.
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:08, 4 replies)

I co-manage a design unit for a megacorp.
We frequently get asked to amend work we didn't do, and in no exception to this, a colleague came over with a print out of a line-based image done by a designer who had now left.

The colleague and I had the following conversation:

Colleague: Vagabond, could you arrange to get this amended for us? The designer's left but we need it changing.

A Vagabond: Of course. Have you any idea what he did it in?

Colleague: He did it in his laptop.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 16:03, 3 replies)

The Kids, part 1
I know from personal experience that a lot of people can be relied upon to be equipped with a degree of common sense by the time they reach the age of 21. I recently started playing with a band whose average age is about 21, maybe 22 and who have managed to display levels of incompetence that make me wonder how they survived on this planet for so long. I know I shouldn't, but I have started referring to them as "The Kids," because it does feel like I'm playing with a bunch of kids sometimes. (And yes, I realise that sounds a bit wrong.)

For example: one of them turned up to a gig and, in between setting up and soundchecking, brought his jacket over to me.
"Just wondered if you knew how to fix the zip," he said.
The problem was quite obvious - he'd pulled the slider up from the bottom of its travel, but the teeth hadn't joined together behind it. An annoying problem, happens to us all occasionally, but not difficult to fix. So I pulled the zip straight and dragged the slider back down to its base. Problem solved.
"Oh, thanks for that. I thought I was going to have to cut it off or something, but then I thought, 'I'll give it to Crow, he's practical.'"

I facepalmed internally.
(LongJohnBaldry, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:58, 1 reply)

I used to work in a lasertag centre. Woefully outdated technology (our "Master System" ran on DOS 3-ish, we had a printer older than most of our customers), but we bodged and fixed and got along with it. That's not the story.

One day, we were low on staff so we 'borrowed' one of the grunts from Downstairs. Y'see, we were above an amusement arcade and so our downtime was spent down there, when we weren't cleaning, filing, sorting, repairing... and generally finding excuses to sit around doing bog all. With laser guns. However, this day the boss needed to do real work downstairs, so he summoned one of the grunts to deal with the fun stuff. Untrained, useless... what's the worst that could happen, right?

Turned out, this particular grunt was bored between games and liked to find things to press. Having been told NO TOUCHEE COMPUTEE and bored that the only video was the training movie, he cast his speculative eye further and found a mysterious red button under the desk.

"Ho!" said our brave soul, "Ho! For this may be the magic button which opens the door to Narnia!" and thumbed it mightily.

Nothing.

"Ho!" he repeated, "It must need a different finger!" and so poked it firmly.

Nothing!

"Ho!" he moaned, "Bastard button must be broke!" and so jabbed it a few times to be sure.

Footsteps on the spiral stairs! Finally, something happened!

Yes... half a dozen of England's Finest Police came swarming up the stairs, keen to know why the berk behind the desk was hammering on the panic button and expecting guns, bombs, possibly even Gargamel.

"Oh. That's what that button does!" beamed our hapless hero.
(Gonkers Mcfoo, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:58, 4 replies)

Guy at my work
Thought his CD tray was a cup holder!

Uh-oh spaghettios!

He has since gone on to have a fine career as an urban legend.
( Dervel OTBC, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:48, 4 replies)

Karate! James! Kidnap! Oblivion!
One of my former colleagues was the proud owner of a two foot tall James Brown model which he kept perched upon the edge of his desk. Unfortunately he was in the habit of pressing a little button that would cause James to scream, then launch into a colossally loud rendition of 'I Feel Good'. This was irritating, particularly as it was something that cost me money. I work selling ad space to directors of major companies across the globe. It is vital to come across on the phone as professional and knowledgeable, while being persuasive and approachable. This requires concentration. Neither the appearance of professionalism nor concentration is aided by a loud toy being activated behind you. The issue was raised, requests for James to remain silent during sales hours were ignored, and his singing became more regular, just to annoy everyone.

Clearly something needed to be done. As much as I wanted to throw James from a window, I didn't. I nicked him instead.

I had planned to hide James for a day or two before returning him to his owner with a note requesting future silence. However, I went to the pub in the meantime and as so often happens, things got a little out of hand.

A livejournal account was set up (As this is 5+ years back the exact name used escapes me, something like where's james, I think). A hotmail account was set up, and an email was sent to his owner, from James, explaining that he was fed up of being disliked by his owner's colleagues and he was going away for a while. This was reproduced online and was accompanied by a photo of James with a suitcase, standing at a taxi rank. The owner hit the roof, and over the next three weeks went straight through it. This was because James kept posting pictures and blogs detailing his adventures. By this point the whole company was reading the blogs and were thoroughly enjoying the owner's discomfort. Whilst very angry, however, James' owner was also suppressing his amusement. Had someone else been the victim he would have been enjoying it immensely.during these few weeks, James was photographed in bars and clubs, with drinks, cigarettes and the odd line in the toilet. He had kisses from girls documented, and then we got ambitious. Postcards arrived from across Europe and images of him at customs and on a plane were posted, as my friends got involved.

Then I ran out of ideas for adventures. However, I was enjoying the peace and quiet and wasn't ready to return him. So things took a turn for the sinister as James was kidnapped..

A letter arrived with James' owner a few days later, with each letter cut from a newspaper or magazine in the time-honoured style. Ransom demands were made (assorted foolish tasks, for instance, wearing his shirt inside out, odd shoes etc). These ransom demands were not met, so I was left with no alternative but to carry out my threats of mutilating James. I bought a duplicate doll (£40!!!!!) and every couple of days a hand, or limb, or nose would arrive with the owner, all sent by recorded delivery. His anger and frustration boiled over. Threats of violent retribution were made, complaints to the MD were made, and laughed out of the office, and finally the owner promised that if he got him back, he'd keep James quiet.

Another recorded delivery letter arrived the next day, containing a cryptic clue; the first of several in a treasure hunt leading to James, the whole, undamaged, unblemished James. On finding him, his owner shed a little tear of joy, placed him back on the desk and kept him mercifully silent during working hours.

As a post-script, James died soon afterwards. I left the company about a month after returning James. A week after this, the owner returned to his old ways and another colleague karate kicked James into oblivion.

RIP James
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:46, 3 replies)

No names, no packdrill
"Call the police!" he shouted running into the office, "Someone's stolen my clothes!"

He was, at the time, fully dressed, but after he had breathed into a paper bag a few times and dialled 999, we got the full story: He'd been to the laundrette over the road, returned to the washing machine and found his clothes missing.

Eventually, the police turned up, looked inside the machine and told him that the fast spin had stuck his clothes to the inside of the drum, "And would sir kindly stop fucking wasting our fucking time."

He was last seen in the works canteen, sticking a knife inside the toaster, trying to extract his now-smoking breakfast. There was a bright blue flash and all the lights went out...

...and now he's Deputy PM.*

*Lie
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:44, 2 replies)

Mispronounced.
This annoys me anyway, but I once had a boss who was in her 50s and without any irony or sense of error uttered these words about her grandson: "Our Leo has to go to HOSPICKAL cos he won't take his BOKKLE".

My face imploded.
(myriad, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:42, 29 replies)

My friend, while working for a company that made double glazing, worked with this guy
With a long weekend coming up, he asked my mate "What's this holiday for?"
My friend said "It's Easter, you know."
The guy didn't, so my friend went on to elaborate:
"You know, when Jesus was crucified?"
"Jesus was crucified?"
"Yeah, and then he rose from the dead."
"Jesus never rose from the dead, you're having me on! Lads, is he winding me up? He's winding me up, isn't he..."

How he'd got to employment age without being exposed to the most basic tenets of Xianity is beyond me.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:41, 3 replies)

I once worked on a bar with someone studying at a redbrick university.
She accepted without question the assertion that a pogrom was a breed of dog.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:41, 4 replies)

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:41, 3 replies)

Stupid enough to think I'm first.
Sixth?
(uncle_bud is not the jelly roll king., Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:38, Reply)

Breasts
I Like
( Trollman, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:38, 3 replies)

Post holder*
I'll think of something later for this recycled QOTW.
( Maffers I flow kinda strange like Spina Bifida footprints, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:38, 2 replies)

Third!
Goddam, did I guess right or what...

Back in the olden days when I was a draftsman making maps using technical pens and triangles and such, CAD was a very new thing. (By which I mean less than ten years. Surveyors are a conservative bunch.) I had embraced AutoCAD as the way things were going to start heading, and before long was able to completely produce maps electronically without having to hand-draw anything.

My immediate supervisor was very skeptical. I showed him the benefits of it- "Look, if you want to revise the layout of the map to show the road at the bottom instead of making north always up, you just go like this and reprint!"- but he informed me, "We've been doing it this way for thirty years now and I don't see any reason to change."

I stared at him for a moment. "Well shit, then why are we sending out our crews with lasers? Why not use Gunter's chains like George Washington used? For that matter, why send them out in trucks that can break down? Get a horse!"

From what I hear, it took him another five years after that to admit that maybe I was onto something with this new technology...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:38, Reply)

This could well be apocryphal:
I overheard a conversation about someone's stupid colleague.
They had asked what the initials BNP stood for.
When someone told them, they replied "oh that sounds good - when is it?"
( 4Q just lurking, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:38, Reply)

Paul.
During a conversation about how shit X Factor and all of it's sister shows are, Paul complained about a previous winner.

"I can't stand that Leona Bruce; I couldn't stand her when she did the news either"


He's obviously not seen the two women in question.
(TheColonel, Thu 3 Mar 2011, 15:38, 9 replies)