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This is a question And that's the thanks I got

On getting screwed over by people for whom you were doing a favour:

I spent several weeks helping my best friend - a complete layabout - with his A-Level computer science project so he wouldn't fail his course. In the end, he did so little work I actually ended up doing the whole thing for him in a half-term week I should really have spent revising for my own exams.

I got back to college to find that while I was hunched over a red-hot BBC Micro, he had spent the week screwing my girlfriend.

Then he didn't bother sitting the exam because "I'm going to fail anyway".

And that's the thanks I got. How have you been screwed over whilst doing someone a favour?

(, Thu 24 May 2007, 10:20)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I should have put the phone down...
I am sorry to all those saddled with mad bosses, and rubbish jobs. Mine is great. I'm on the radio. No I really am and everything!

This is the point where I start to talk about the horrible things you have to do when everyone thinks that you're their bezzie mate.

The worst of which came during the over night show I used to do. Midnight to 6am, a full 6 hours broadcasting to the drunk, the security guards and the terminally depressed. Yup, it was one of the latter that called.

Her name wasn't Julie but it'll do. Julie said to me, in her best cracked voice "I just called up to say goodbye, I've got a knife and I'm going to kill my self" Well that wasn't a good conversation to have when you think that the call is going to be "have you got any Tina Turner?" I have to say this didn't happen on air, I answered my own phones at that horrid little station... sooooo anywho, There I was young fella tying to talk to a crying snotty suicidal stranger on the phone, and every 10 mins or so I had to break off the phone to say "You're listening to... that was... this is... the time is coming up to..." Then I'd get back to trying to stop this woman killing herself. Eventually she went away, placated and I had her address to send her a mug to cheer her up (I still don't know why I did that but it is important).

Quarter of an hour later she called back, telling me that I was lying to her and she'd decided that life wasn't worth living. At this point thought that I had to do something, so I lent onto the "talkback" button (intercom) to where the security guard was watching Judge Judy. He came into the studio 'cus he couldn't work out why I was saying such random things like "Have you still got the knife" to him.

I passed him a note that said "Send the police round to (address - you see I told you it was important) she's threatening suicide." and he scampered off.

Eventually she calmed enough to agree to go to bed and try to sleep, and make it through to the morning. I put the phone down, finished the show and went home to bed.

At 2pm (just when I was getting up) I got a call from my boss, who'd had a call from a woman who was livid "pink with anger" he said, she's never been so embarrassed in her life and it was irresponsible of me to send the police to her house. How dare we do something like that, and she was never going to listen to the station again.

You try to do the right thing, and yes she did sound convincing, but that is, dear reader, all the thanks I got.

Length?... insert weak joke here.
(, Mon 28 May 2007, 11:02, Reply)
Damned scroungers
We have these two people living in our house. We took them in when they had nothing, they were literally penniless, and made them feel like part of the family. We feed them, but they don't offer to muck in or even do the dishes. They mess up the house, and have to be coerced into clearing up after themselves. Neither of them have jobs, we pay for everything they need.

The other night, one of them had drunk so much he even pissed in his own bed!

You know I'd tell them to go back where they came from, but I don't think they'd fit up through my wife's vagina any more.
(, Sat 26 May 2007, 17:26, Reply)
Yet another story about my psychotic ex
When I moved to Holland a couple of years ago I had problems getting broadband sorted out, so I was stuck with dial-up for the first few weeks. I told my Dutch ex that we were paying by the minute, so not to stay connected for hours on end during the day while I was out at work.

When the first phone bill arrived it was for 850 euros (for a sodding land line), almost all of it for dial-up Internet and calls to her mother's mobile during peak hours, so I was a tad pissed off; especially as she didn't have any money to pay me any of it back because she claimed she was unable to work. Anyway, I managed to arrange with the phone company to pay it off in two installments.

A few weeks later I'd taken the day off work to take her and her mother to see her 14-year-old sister, who was locked up in a kind of Dutch young offenders' centre in a place called Breda. Can't remember exactly what she'd done to be in there, but there was a visiting day coming up and her mother couldn't afford to get there and these visiting days were pretty few and far between, so I had offered to hire a car for the day to drive them both there to see her.

I still had to pay the second installment of the phone bill, so I told my ex that I was just nipping to the post office round the corner to pay it and then we could go and pick her mother up. Went to the cash point, queued up in the post office (still feeling quite pissed off when I started thinking what I could have bought with the 450 euros I had in my hand), paid the bill and then just as I was rounding the corner in front of the flat again I saw her storming up and down the street in a fury, her face glowing crimson with rage.

She started screaming at me that I'd been gone over an hour (according to my watch it was 12 minutes since she'd last seen me), and suggested that I'd been "fucking the girls" in a place further up the street that she thought was a brothel because she once saw girls standing outside in short skirts (I believe it was actually a youth hostel or something, I doubt that there are many brothels called Mount Zion). That was the only reason why she was angry, because she thought I'd been getting up to no good with these imaginary whores. Said she'd looked in the post office and I wasn't there. Apparently the receipt with the time and date on it wasn't proof enough that I was.

The screaming continued back inside the flat, where she smashed some of the Ikea dining chairs that I had just bought with the money my Nan left me in her will, and then grabbed a carving knife and pressed the point against my chest! In front of her other sister, who was 10 and started going hysterical. I was shitting bricks.

So I paid her mammoth phone bill, took a day off and hired a car to take them all to Breda as a favour, and there she was threatening to stab me in the heart. A simple "thank you" would have sufficed.
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 22:53, Reply)
A pedantic aside
Nobody thanks you for anything in life, unless they're lying and want something.

Employers will try to give you the minimum they possibly can while expecting you to do the most you can. If you miss a day because you've got bubonic plague, they accuse you of slacking. And they'll pay more to lazy, useles cunts who are related to the boss (unless it's you).

Partners will use you until they get bored and leave you. It doesn't matter that you gave your life to them and helped them to understand what they really wanted (not you). It doesn't matter that you cared for them and wanted the best for them, because the other guy/girl has a bigger cock/tits.

Children take advantage of you and only realise after you're dead how lucky they were not to be molested every night. It was more important for the selfish little shits to have that pair of fucking Nikes than not have their arse reamed.

You spend your whole working life working and saving for your retirement - then you find that it wasn't enough and you've got to spend the rest of your days sitting in your own piss as your body packs up and you realise that it was all a waste of fucking time.

Which is why I'm an atheist. Is it the weekend yet?
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 17:18, Reply)
he only ever talks to me when he's drunk

when he's sober he's always dumping on me.

I hate being a toilet.
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 13:25, Reply)
tibetan pulsing
My friends wife and mother of his two teenege children was sufferng from depression and started trying new age remedies, yoga , meditation, hugging trees etc. A dreadlocked hippy showed up one day who charged my mate 100 quid to do Tibetan Pulsing on his missus, he paid the hippy welcomed him into his home and left them alone to do the treatment which consisted of the said hippy sticking his fingers up the said missus's cunt and " pulsing" whatever the fuck that was. Anyway after a few weeks of my friend paying for this hippy to stick his fingers up his wifes muff, the wife ran off to Tibet with the hippy and left my mate to bring up two teenage kids. Moral of the the story, never let a hippy stick his fingers up your wifes cunt, even if if does put a smile on her face.
(, Mon 28 May 2007, 3:02, Reply)
Pensioner+ road=pain
A few years ago, when I was pretending to be a Christian to get in a god-botherer's pants, I offered to help an old lady across the road. She was waiting at the curb and looking very nervous, so I took her arm and led her across to the other side.

When I got there, a man approached me and said something like "Why you abuse my baba? You some pervert muthafucka?" It turned out that the gentleman in question was a senior member of the Albanian mafia and that touching his grandmother was the worst possible insult short of actually shitting in his hair.

In the following weeks, my dog was killed, my greenhouse was smashed, my car had its tyres slashed, my boss was sent (very good) photoshopped pictures of me engaging in coitus with a goat and my girlfriend met a man with a funny accent at a club. Turned out he was hung like a tyrannosaurus and she left me for him. But it got worse.

After a break-in, the police took my computer away and found 4000 pictures of naked children on it. I lost my job and was forced to become homeless. I became an alcoholic and took to heroin like a scouser to petty theft. My life had reached rock bottom.

Then, by chance, I saw a little old lady waiting to cross the road. I waited until a petrol tanker drove by and then pushed her under its wheels, watching them squash the old bitch as flat as a blue-rinse pizza. And, you know, I felt much better.
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 17:07, Reply)
Don't even start me...
I work in the media, where getting fucked over by your seniors is such an entrenched part of the job it's just not even worth getting into.
Research, interview, write the whole expose that brings down a corrupt government minister and then watch some other person get an award for "their" work? Been there.
Sit in a stake out for three days to get a pic which makes front pages around the country only to have someone else tack their byline on it after contributing three paragraphs? Done that.
Best part is not how many times it's been done or the worst instance, but how you start getting smarter.
Like the time a big shot investigative reporter took all my work and ran it as his without checking a single fact. Especially the one which I totally invented and which landed him in a massive defamation case which he could never explain away because that would have been an admission of plagiarism.
Or watching the work of a past culprit until eventually, buried in the middle of a piece, you discover someone else's unattributed work and having him outed on Media Watch and then fired. Fuck me I'mm getting so angry just typing this people are starting to look to see why I'm slamming the keyboard. I need a cup of tea.
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 2:05, Reply)
volunteering - no thanks!
Like everyone these days, I am concerned about the environment and leaving carbon footprints on clean carpets etc. So I recently volunteered to help plant trees to offset the effect of the mountain of tyres and fridges I set fire to on some wasteland near my home.

Anyway, on the first day I was presented with a load of saplings and a spade. My overseer, an attractive girl called Fiona, showed me how to dig the hole and settle the new sapling in it. Unfortunately, some pesky little animal - a bit like a squirrel - kept running around my feet as worked, so I waited for it become accustomed to my presence, and then smashed its brains in with my spade.

"What are you doing!" shrieked Fiona. "That is a northern marmoset squirrel - an extremely rare and endangered species! You've killed the only breeding male for 50 square miles!"

After that, they moved me to a safer area of the forest. I was digging a hole for a sapling, but there were numerous roots and I couldn't get through them. So I picked up an axe and swung at the bloody things with all my might ... just at the second a badger emerged from the hole. The axehead cleaved its furry head in twain and its hot brains gushed across Fiona's dungarees.

"Frankspencer! You've just killed a protected species!" she yelled with apoplectic ire. I stepped back and dropped the offending weapon ... right on to the head of an escaped panda that had been lurking in bushes behind me. The razor sharp head shattered its black and white forehead and it squealed in agony as blood erupted from its face.

"Frank! You've just killed the only panda bred in captivity in Britain!"

For fuck's sake Fiona, I'm trying my best!" I said, hurling my cigarette into a pile of tinder-dry sawdust soaked in petrol. It exploded and burned the forest down in a matter of hours, causing a previously undicovered tribe to be wiped out completely, taking their native art and language with them.

As a result, I was sentenced to two years in prison. Some gratitude, eh?
(, Tue 29 May 2007, 12:59, Reply)
Not me, but my Grandfather
It's shortly after Pearl Harbor and my Grandfather goes into the Navy and is going through training...he gets a commission and ends up getting assigned to a unit...ironically, though not so obvious at the time, with Richard M. Nixon.

My Grandfather was always messing about with cars and was really a good mechanic. Richard Nixon has some issues with his and asked my Grandfather: "Hal, can you fix my car?" and Hal says "Sure Nick. But parts are gonna be expensive!" (I am obviously paraphrasing)

Dick: Go ahead and get them, I will pay you back.

You know where this is going.

Car fixed. Nixon happy. Hal skint.

Fast forward to the Nixon Administration. Grandpa and Grandma are out East to visit their daughter and family. Touring Washington, DC.

a white haired Hal approaches the main gate at the White House and begins to make a bit of a stink. Secret Service are called in. I believe the quote was "TELL DICK TO GIVE ME MY GODDAMN MONEY FOR THE AUTO PARTS!" I am SURE they thought he was in early stages of dimentia.

Arrests are threatened...and all Hal can say is "I FIXED THAT BASTARDS CAR! IS THIS ALL THE THANKS I GET?!"

True story.
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 16:26, Reply)
group sex (well, it's a Friday)
Sarah had always said that it was her fanstasy to service a number of men at the same time. We were all round at John's house watching some DVDs, smoking and getting gradually intoxicated when she started to strip.

At first, it was just her shirt. Then she slipped off her jeans and sat there in her Victoria's Secret lingerie (she'd obviously put her best stuff on). An atmosphere of arousal thickened in the room as the four guys looked her frankly spectacular body. She'd done some glamour modelling and looked better naked than she did clothed.

Then the bra came off and those fantastic tits jiggled into the room. John, who was sitting next to her, reached out and cupped one, half expecting to be slapped. But she just raised her arms above her head and started to purr. This prompted rob to grab another handful. She wriggled as they both engaged in nipple play.

Her intention had become clear. We'd been waiting a long time for this. I got up and helped her to remove her g-string, revealing a hairless clam, engorged and gaping with anticipation. Getting into the spirit of things, I set my tongue to work and lapped at her clitoris as she rolled her hips around. When I came up for air, I saw that she had Jack's cock halfway down her throat and his balls cupped in a manicured hand.

Not wanting to miss out, I pulled her hips forward on the sofa and inserted my throbbing member to the hilt in her clenching dell. There. I pumped slowly and watched the fellatio show. I felt my orgasm rumbling like a distant Kraktoa just as Jack withdrew and pumped his load over her glistening lips and tongue.

She still wasn't done. She turned round so that someone else could have a go doggy style, and took John in her mouth as Rob plugged her from behind. I noted that Jack was still hard and that she was frantically pumping his schlong with her hand as she serviced the other two. Not to be left out, I made good use of my still-rigid cock and - not standing on ceremony, I slipped one into her ass beneath Rob's thrusting buttocks.

At this rearwards surprise, she began to moan and double her writhing/sucking efforts. We all came simultaneously in a thrusting, pulsing geyser of jizz, saliva and sundry lubricants.

At that moment, her boyfriend entered the room and said, "Is that all the thanks I get for getting engaged to you?"
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 12:43, Reply)
I was a good Christian for 23 years.
I held charity events in order to help the homeless and starving.
I ran collection boxes in the worst parts of the worst towns.
I flew to Ghana to try and give a little salvation to AIDs victims.
I prayed to God every night.
I developed an understanding with those with different religions, and learned to accept that.

And He STILL didn't make it any fucking bigger!!111!!
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 21:18, Reply)
Betrayal of biblical proportions
After a lifetime of teaching the gospels, performing miracles, fulfilling biblical prophecies, taking twelve lads under my wing on a religious YTS and generally doing Gods work, what thanks did I get?

One of the lads, in exchange for thirty measly pieces of silver, grasses me up to the Roman feds and gets me arrested and crucified.

What a git!

(, Thu 24 May 2007, 10:52, Reply)
i complained to maintenance that the wheels on my chair were squeaky.

so just now, i tried to pull the chair up to my boss' desk in the usual lazy way of pulling it forwards with my feet whilst still sitting on it.

the supposedly newly fixed chair wheels stuck. i did not. i basically pulled my own ass off the chair and landed right at his feet. to add insult to injury, the resulting bump made my boobs fly right out of my neckline, giving him a lovely view of my bra AND clean up my skirt.

and what thanks did i get for giving him this visual treat?

"here's the client number, i want you to research this blah point on blah....."

EDIT: oh my god, i've never had so many gazzes!! in answer to the most frequently asked questions... yes, i am wearing pants, they are white and no, he isn't hot so it certainly was in no way deliberate and yes, my ass is very bruised indeed!
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 15:10, Reply)
I volunteered to help out
with some Tourettes sufferers.

You should have heard the way they talked to me!
(, Sun 27 May 2007, 2:03, Reply)
I spent several months pursuing a very nice bloke with whom I shared a mutual love of french cinema with. A common topic of conversation was based around the amazing film Amelie and how it'd be totally amazing to fall in love like the two main characters in the film do,(even if Amelie does seem to be a bit of a stalker.)

For those who havn't seen the film, there is one scene where Amelie dresses up as Zorro and photographs herself in a photobooth, with a time and place for the object of her desire to meet her.

So, having a zorro costume (naturally) I though what better way of asking him out? I promptly went down to the local station and whacked my costume on and took the photos. I sent them in the post that day and waited.

Two days later, he sent them back. With a very polite note explaining that he didn't fancy meeting me for a drink and actually didn't like the film much anyway.

(, Fri 25 May 2007, 19:28, Reply)
The ones with beaks.

I feed them bread a'plenty all through the year and they show their gratitude by pooting all over my windscreen.

The little feathered fucks.
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 13:01, Reply)
Not me, but then again if I talk about me I'll just get angry again...
One of my best mates is a former Born Again Christian (capital letters very intentional, he used to hand out pamphlets, man the BBQ at schools telling them to have a snag and come to Jesus etc etc).
Anyway, in the course of his love for God, he meets a fellow Christian, a lovely girl and they fall in love.
As these things often do, it progressed to a physical relationship and after much agonosing over what was right etc, they had sex.
It was, for both of them, the first time, and it weighed heavily on their hearts so they thought they'd do the right thing and confess to their pastor, ask for God's forgiveness and advice on what they should do next.
The bastard nodded sagely, said he'd think about it... and that weekend told their entire congregation including their parents what had happened, how they were evil and how everyone should get on their cases immediately.
Funnily enough he's not much of a church goer these days.
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 2:12, Reply)
At the end of the final semester at Uni, I somehow got roped into redecorating a lasses room for when the Landlords came round for their final inspection. Every room had to be white, but she in her infinite wisdom had decided to paint her room pink over the year, and now needed to turn it back white again.

So we did what all students would do, and had a redecorating party. After a few cans we started painting the walls with white paint. Unfortunatly you could still see the pink through the paint, and we didn't have enough to do more than one coat. So I thought quickly, and in my opinion came up with a genius solution to the problem.

Grabbing the fire extinguisher from the kitchen, I aimed and fired at the wet paint, covering the wall. Problem solved I declare. The powder from the extinguisher stuck to the paint, and the walls were white with no pink showing.

The only problem was that everyone else in the room was also covered in it, and were proceeding to heave their guts up all over the carpet due to the amount they had breathed in.

I redecorated an entire room in 5 minutes and thats the thanks I get!
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 16:08, Reply)
Cheeky Bastard....
Friend of mine from work was having a hard time, his computer died in the middle of his Uni thesis so him not having any cash being el studente I sorted him out with some pc stuff i had lying around (worth a few £££) and built a machine. I even spent several painstaking hours recovering as many files off his crocked pc as I could and reinstalling, all in was a few days work had to take a day off at one point as well with a fake sickie. Lo and behold the fucker says thanks and finishes his work and I get a warm fuzzy good deed for the year feeling and then the bastard sells the computer for Beer money and tries to say he got robbed.... only the little shite sold the PC to another guy in his halls who came in to pay him while I was there and inadvertantly rumbling the little shit. Being the nice person I am, I took the cash off the guy he sold it to then went home and lit a small fire in his old pc case and returned it to him bbq fresh.
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 11:45, Reply)
Auditor Nightmare
I once spent two years working as an auditor and trainee accountant (until the mind numbing excitement got the better of me). Anyway, two weeks into the job, I am sitting in the office waiting to be assigned work, and one of the more senior women comes up to me with an "important job".

She proceeds to direct me to four photocopier boxes containing a 6000 page list of policy holders of a client we were auditing. She tells me that as part of the audit process I am required to check the total of the report by adding it up manually. She then sods off.

Cut to two weeks later, having spent eight working days adding it up by hand, and diligently recording every six minutes spent doing so on my time sheet, I am finished, and surprise suprise, the computer generated total is correct.

Cut to two further weeks later...woman who assigned me the job comes up, furious that I have blown her budget by charging 32 hours time to it. She then explains that the request to add the report up was a "joke". I subsequently get disciplinary warning from senior management for "deliberately sabotaging" the project.

Thanks a million.
(, Mon 28 May 2007, 1:45, Reply)
I screwed someone once
but I feel an evil sort of joy about it.

I bought a playstation 2 (with 10 games, including some new and expensive ones) from a colleague a few years back. He was 30, lived with his parents and didn't spend any money on rent or food, and instead bought several game consoles, elaborate phones, handheld stuff, the latest games, etc. He was always boasting about his material wealth (probably filling up the social and romantic voids in his life).

He was getting bored with his PS2 and decided to sell it to me for 50 euro and a pack of smokes. Sounded like a perfect deal (at least 2 of the games he was going to supply were 70 euros EACH!)

Later that evening we were drinking some beers after work in a bar, and we got pretty wasted (that's what you get for skipping diner and going straight to the bar). I went to the bathroom and when I returned the bag with the PS2 was gone, and my collegue was looking like a smug bastard (as usual). He told me he had sold HIS(? No, MY) Playstation to the barkeeper and then handed me 70 euro as compensation.

I'm not a violent drunk, so I proceeded to yell at him. How did he dare sell something I had just bought off him earlier that day?! I put the 70 euro in my pocket and hoped this was just some joke he was playing... The damn barkeep just played along... Two hours passed, but since he was buying, I decided to hang around. And ofcourse the PS2 must have been somewhere in this building...

At the end of the evening he handed me back the bag with the Playstation and games he had hid, laughing aloud at my sillyness and anger. He hadn't sold it to anyone and gave me 70 of his own euros earlier that evening.

The next morning I had a terrible hangover, but I was happy as I counted my winnings: 70 euros cash in my pocket + a PS2 with 10 games. And free drinks! And all I ever paid was 50 euro and a pack of sigarets.

He never asked me about the money (he probably thinks the cab driver overcharged him or something, because he was completely wasted).

Evil? Or smart. You decide.
(, Sat 26 May 2007, 14:27, Reply)
It was June 18th 2004, I stopped by the Budgens on the way
to the office, picked up a copy of the telegraph, some fruity polos and a bottle of wind screen washer fluid. As I came into Cheltenham I was proceeded by a black Vauxhall, the driver a blonde 20-something wasn't paying attention to what she was doing and hit the brakes too late to avoid hitting (and running over) a 50-something tramp. I didn't know any of this until after I had run over him as well. I (being the kind-hearted man I am) actually got out of the car to see how he was, he was alive! With minor injuries! Turned out the first car killed him - my car jump started his heart again, bringing him back to life!

I was prosecuted and spent 6 months in jail, the tramp claimed damages and now lives in a better house than I do.

Apologies for length
(, Sun 27 May 2007, 15:07, Reply)
Last night
My friend called me at 2 o'clock in the morning. He told me something to the effect of: "I'm near your house, I have no money, my home is a long way, let me sleep at yours please". This was said, I might add, in a very slurred, drunken voice. Bearing in mind I am currently residing with my parents (Although that problem will be rectified soon), I agreed, but asked him not to ring the doorbell when he arrived, but to ring my mobile (So as not to wake my parents up). He was obviously that pissed he couldnt tell the difference, and rang the doorbell anyway.

So I crept downstairs, trying to be as quiet as possible, on the off chance the doorbell hasn't woken my parents up. I get to the door, and said friend keeps pushing the doorbell, shouting, "Hello, hello!!" By now, parents are at the top of the stairs wondering what the hell is going on. I explain very quickly the situation, and my dad goes back to bed. Obviously he couldn't be arsed to argue with me at that time.

I opened the door, and he more or less managed to stagger into the house. I told him to be quiet and go upstairs into my bedroom, but that he would have to sleep on the floor, so I gave him a pillow. Safe in the knowledge that in the morning my parents are going to be pissed off at me for waking them up, I tried to get some shut-eye.

Unable to sleep because it seems my friend hiccups when he's sleeping, I turned the light on. What do I see? A huge pool of water on my floor, oddly, under my friends head. So I woke him up (It didn't take much) and asked him what the hell it was.
"I don't know," he replied, "But it seems to have come out of my eyes."
Suspicious, I put my finger in it and smell it. Piss.
"No!, its come out of my eyes!" he insisted.

My friend, who I let into my house, and risked having a confrontation with my parents for, had pissed on my floor.

I shan't go through the details of clearing it up, but suffice to say, there's currently a nice stain on my carpet, accompanied by an odd smell lingering in my room in general.

I suppose it could have been worse, as he could have needed a shit.

(, Fri 25 May 2007, 17:24, Reply)
Reprimanded for working too hard.
Back in 2000 I had a shitty admin job in a pokey little un-air-conditioned office surrounded by noisy building work. The workload was immense, on my first day I was 6 weeks behind and it never let up. The phones never stopped ringing and each call was an angry customer or financial advisor demanding their bit of work took priority over everything else. The female office manager was a 1980’s throwback, all shoulder pads and Hilary Clinton hairstyle, she was also a complete cunt who would tell me that she never expected me to clear my workload, but would then drag a piece of paper out of my in-tray and demand why it had not been done.

For the first 3 months I worked my bollocks off, I would come in early, work through my lunch break and leave late. I worked and worked and worked through this Kafka-esque nightmare just to try and get on top of my workload. I did so many unpaid hours they forced me to take a day off every month so that they didn’t break employment laws, which I didn’t want to take because after a day off my desk would be straining under the new untouched work. I honestly didn’t think my work life could get more stressful.

Then one morning, in front of the whole office, I was marched into the meeting room by the office manager. “You’re late! This isn’t good enough, I wont have you letting the team down” she barked at me. My tired eyes rose to look at the clock on the wall behind her. It was just coming up to 8.45am. “No…I’m early” I replied. “You are supposed to start work at 8am” she retorted. “No, I’m supposed to start at nine, but I get in an hour early to get work done before the phones start ringing” I tried to explain.

It was no good; for being ‘late’ I was given a warning that would be entered on my permanent record. An hour later I was back in that office because it was my 3-month review. The stupid bitch acted like nothing had happened and started with, “So, how have you enjoyed your first three months?”

A month later I handed in my notice.
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 12:25, Reply)
Weegie Scumbags
Working in Hamilton one day with a colleague, left the site (directly opposite the court-house as it happens) to get a cuppa - as we're strolling out we spot a toddler bimbling out into the road from in front of a parked van, with an Audi A4 barrelling down the road some scant meters away.

Natural reaction, shouting and bawling "holy SHIT someone grab that kid" etc, run down to try and intervene / assist, whatever. Driver reacts in time, screeching to a halt, whitefaced. Thank you, ABS.

We bolt over, adrenaline a-gogo - "everything OK?"

'Aye mind your ain business and get tae fuck ah can look after mah ain kids yah cheeky cunts'

Yeah. Clearly.
(, Mon 28 May 2007, 19:50, Reply)
I'll tell you what thanks I got... SOD ALL!
I was walking home with a group of people on the way home from school one time when this happened. The group was full of popular types that now work at kfc, and I tried to hang on as someone who laughed at the gangs shit jokes. I however, saw that the doppy chav girls were walking across the main road and leaped forward and pulled the most attractive girl at school away, just avoiding an oncoming car. Cheers? Sex? a kiss? NO. I got a fucking black eye from her boyfriend because I was "just trying to touch her".

Still he died in a car crash last year so perhaps thats the thanks he got.
(, Mon 28 May 2007, 19:22, Reply)
Well thank you very much
I have a friend, I say friend. I mean acquaintance I havent been able to shake off in four years or so. His whole world is PC's, he is a wizard with them and they are to all intents and purposes his life. So when mine buggered up a few months ago, he was the person I called.

I called him and he was made up, he loves fixing broken computers so I was quite pleased I'd made his day. I promised him a nice cooked meal and a few bevvys as payment when he came over, he asked to bring his girlfriend so I said yes.

While he was fixing my PC in my room, me and his girl started to talk. The talk got quite deep and she started telling me all about their lack of a sex life, how his libido wasnt much and how she was getting annoyed with him and even worse, how it was affecting their relationship. She was starting to get annoyed with him and was getting spiteful, full of bitchy, barbed comments for the lad.

'What could I do to help?' thought I. Then it hit me.

I played with her hair and started nuzzling her neck. Before you could say firewall we were at it like a similie which hasnt even been invented yet to convey our behaviour.

Gratitude anyone? Not a sausage. I let him fix my computer AND shagged his girl so he didnt have to, some people eh?
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 13:57, Reply)
Septic Thanks
Once again while working as a “Cheney “ employee, one of my American compatriots was told he had to go to Syria for a five week job.

He was not on the least bit happy as his girlfriend was due to arrive in Dubai within a week.

While we sat in the office he pondered his options.

Being the inventive type, I suggested that not having a free page in his passport would prevent the Syrian Visa being obtained and he would have to stay in town for at least two weeks while a replacement passport was issued.

Simple, but the only problem was there were three clean pages left in the said passport.

My answer was that we should “razor blade cut the empty pages out of the cunt.”

The cunning plan worked a treat as he managed an extended stay in town.

Downside, being the only employee with a Syrian multi entry visa, I was informed later that day that I had to leave - that night.

Transpired also that my American mate told our boss about my multi entry visa. TWUNT

Had the shits for three weeks, broke a rib and spent a total of six weeks in the shithole.

Helpful advice, I have never offered any since that day.

Upside, I had shagged his bird before he had met her six months previously and knew I wasn't missing anything as she was like a sack of potatoes.
(, Fri 25 May 2007, 5:13, Reply)
many many moons ago, when I was working in teh licensed trade, a ne'er do well chum of mine had fallen on hard times, and requested some bar work, and as I knew he was good with people, I welcomed him in with open arms.

It turns out I should have welcomed him with open till drawers instead, as we quickly noticed the tills never counted up right after his shift.

I took him aside, and asked him about it, and he flatly denied any wrong doing.
As he denied it, I was idly playing with the cctv remote, the screen of which was behind me.

Oh the look of 'oh bugger' that befell his face as he realised he was watching himself rob me, as he told me he hadnt robbed me.

I employed no further friends.

where are apeloverage and frankspencer these days?
(, Thu 24 May 2007, 10:28, Reply)

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