Karen and Debbie
I used to work in Telesales, for my sins.

Our supervisor, Karen, didn't make calls herself unless she absolutely had to, and spent most of the day pursuing her hobby of horse dressage. There were dressage forums, saddlery websites, advice on diets for a better coat, etc. A whole world of horsey Interweb goodness. Interrupting her whilst she was looking at horse stuff online usually just made her moody, so we tended to get on with our own thing and bother her as little as possible.

Now, despite being totally idle, Karen was actually quite ambitious and wanted to one day ascend to a position where she supervised not just one, but several banks of phone-monkeys, like her boss Debbie. She sucked up something rotten as a result. As soon as she knew she was under Debbie's gaze, she suddenly became either a back-patting, smiling, tea-making nice boss or a shouty, firm, no-bullshit nasty boss as she felt was required in this particular case by the (somewhat evil) Debbie.

One of the best bollockings we ever got was, ironically, over Internet use. Apparently, our department was the worst in the company for spending time on the internet during working hours. The fact that she was the worst offender wasn't going to stop Karen getting us all into a meeting room (with Debbie overseeing from the back of the room) and laying down the law on wasting company time.

To be fair, we were all guilty as charged. We knew the company 'reserved the right' to monitor internet use, but they'd never actually bothered up to this point. It was ridiculous to be getting a bollocking from Karen on the matter, but none of us were going to say anything, as we mostly spent our days half-listening to customers whilst playing online billiards or bidding on ebay.

As Karen wrapped up with one more platitude about pulling together and not being the weak link in the chain when others were hard at work selling, Debbie chipped in:

'I also wanted to let you all know, that the monitoring the company has been doing actually shows us individuals as well as teams, so I have a list from the IT Department of the worst offenders and will be talking to them individually in the next few days.'

Ever seen someone's face go from smug to deflated over the course of a sentence? I have..
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 19:08, 3 replies)

Best boss I've ever had
I used to work for a bank and it was very stressful on Fridays as we had lots of customers, including a lot of bars and restaurants, coming in for money to last them over the weekend. As a result, our tempers were always frayed and we'd often go home feeling a bit ratty, often ruining our Friday nights. So one day the boss got us all together and proposed that each Friday night, after we'd locked the money away in the safe, we all went downstairs into the basement and had a fight. We thought for a while, tried it out one week, and our regular Friday night "rumble" was born. Worked a treat too. I still think we were the original "Fight Club".

He also decided to scare our only female member of staff one day by climbing into the tiny lift we had to take the tills from the basement safe to the counter, his intention being to leap out at her when she opened the door. He somehow squashed himself inside (he was about 6'6", and the lift was maybe 3' high), we closed the door, sent the lift up, and then let go of the "operate" button which had to be held in to make the lift move. We left him trapped in the shaft for about ten minutes.

His intended target asked after a while what all the banging was. "It's the boss," we replied, "he's trying to scare you, but we've trapped him in the lift." She just nodded her head in response. He was livid when we let him out.
(nasalhair The Twix guy!, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 18:43, Reply)

captain america
Back when I was temp working at the royal mail around christmas time we had an american for a boss. He was an easy going guy but not the best man around mackems and geordies with the accent and all. Well when our temp work was nearly over he told us on the 2nd from last day he had a surprise for us, which we all got excited about because the job as so terrible(typing in postcodes for 8 hours a day). We came in the next day to do our shift and after an hour it was ciggy time or eye rest time as the managers said. After a nice fag and a chat with the strange middle aged man who sat next to me we went back to work to find the american guy dressed as captain america. The girls were giggling and the blokes had a little chuckle but alas I was let down expecting to leave early even though I knew that the postcodes was a 24 hour thing that never stops, NEVER. He told use that he was doing this because he wanted us to work like superheroes for our last couple of days but that was the last I saw of the dipshit. The next day I got payed I never went back in and was able to get my gran that mobile scooter she was dreaming of merry christmas indeed.
(Agent Dale Pooper k in the p, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 18:06, Reply)

*Riiiiip*
"So you've never given birth before then?" asked Ken, an orange-skinned man in his fifties to one of my very pregnant colleagues.

I'd only been in the office for a couple of weeks, but Ken was well loved by pretty much everyone, and had a habit of saying the kind of things that few others would get away with. Partly by being cheeky and partly by being the boss.

"No, this is my first." replies Lisa, rubbing her hand protectively over her rather full belly. I'd been brought in to cover her work when she went on maternity leave, so she was almost 9 months gone and each time we spoke she shared her concerns about giving birth.

"Just remember Lis' " Ken continued, holding an A4 sheet of paper in his hands and tearing it slowly as he said the next line "This will be the sound of your fanny next month!"

I've never seen a girl go so white so quickly as poor Lisa did.

I never did find out if the aural prediction made by Ken was an accurate one or not.
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:57, 3 replies)

Interview technique
I once helped a previous boss interview potential candidates for a vacancy we had.

As one candidate left and the door was very nearly closed behind him my bosses very loud closing words still ring in my ears...

"The day we hire a fucking poof like that I'm quitting and you're all going with me!".

Pretty sure he meant it too.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:33, Reply)

"Stop creating problems and start creating solutions"..
..was one of the favourite phrases of my first boss when I started in the games industry. It was his standard response to his employees when we had the audacity to point out gaping problems in, scheduling that would mean inhuman overtime, design that would mean games were shite, or management that would mean both.

The company, in case anyone's curiosity is piqued, was DDI (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Data_Design_Interactive), a name that will either not register even the merest hint of recollection or cause some sort of 'nam style flashback twitches. And believe it or not, they are even worse than that wiki article suggests.

The boss, MrG is an interminable idiot, possessing so few scruples that I would posit that he would do pretty much anything for money if he had some sort of written payment guarantee.
He gives micro-managers a bad name, by multi-micro-managing every department, and doing an equally inept job in each case.
Under his unsteady hand, the company's gone bankrupt and opened under a new name more times than I care to mention (it was even suggested to name it %s Ltd. from now on, just to save time; sorry, programmer joke).

At one time it was suspected amongst the employees that the boss either had an evil (good?) twin, or he was schizo. For not a day would go by that the boss would deny reading an email that'd been confirmed read, or deny saying something that was witnessed by multiple people. Well, it's either that, or he's just a twat-badger.

I could go on and on about him, and all the cataclysmically stupid moves he's made over the years, business and personal, but he really doesn't deserve it. The company is still going, he's still the boss (working for his wife the owner, heh), and they're still producing the direst shit. To any current DDI employees, I pity you, and urge you to get out before your soul is black.
(ShiftyBastard won the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:32, 3 replies)

My boss....
is a b3ta member..... so I'm keeping my mouth shut.

See boss, I am learning! :-)
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:25, Reply)

How to make the worst possible first impression
During the first day on a previous job I arrived at the office early, suited and booted, met up with my new boss – a likeable fella named Nick who did my interview – and he offered to take me out for coffee over to the wanky, poncy-arsed coffee shop round the corner. He wanted to talk to me about my new sales role in a relaxed, laid-back atmosphere. Never being one to turn down a free anything and desperate to make the right impression, I went along. We sat in the window seat, I ordered the most expensive coffee on the menu and we started chatting about selling shit to shits; the usual guff for a sales monkey like myself.

The coffees came. Time ticked on. We ordered another coffee. We started to relax and talk about our out of office lives. It was pretty obvious Nick wanted to get to know me better as a person, which was nice. The waitress came over with our second coffees and after she’d placed them on the table he leaned into me and said conspirationally: “I’d give her one!” I nodded in agreement. Fuck me, this beat doing some work for a living.

We sipped at our fresh drinks, we talked about footie, holidays, nice places to go out on the beer; just the usual stuff. I was gazing out the big coffee shop window, watching the traffic go by. Nick was sat with his back to the window facing into the shop. What with it being London (down in Borough near London Bridge), it was fucking busy on the roads. It was also a really hot day. As if from nowhere a gorgeous Italian-looking girl in a convertible VW beetle stopped just outside the coffee shop window. She had on such an amazingly low cut top that revealed such a perfectly pert set of knockers that she actually took my breath away. She flicked her long ebony locks and stroked her neck, did a little stretch.

“My God,” I said, “There’s a girl sat in a car just outside waiting at the lights who is absolutely amazingly stunning... I think I’d like to marry her...”

Nick, my boss but also my new best mate, went to turn to have a surreptitious perv. But in the time it took him to put his coffee down and twist his body the lights had changed and the traffic had moved on a little. My Italian beauty had moved up the queue a few cars. Nick stared for a moment. I could hear something, some statement catch in his throat. Then he turned quickly back round, put his head down, and drank his coffee in silence for a few moments. I did the same. Shit!

In the five or six seconds it had taken Nick to turn to have a butchers, another car had taken the place of my new girlfriend’s, parked up just outside the window moving further up the queue of traffic. It was another convertible. And there was a girl in this motor too. She was in the passenger seat, playing with her long blonde hair. She was wearing a nice flowery summer dress.

Only this girl was probably about six years old.

(It’s fucking hard work attempting to explain to your new boss of all of an hour that you’re not, in point of fact, a dirty paedophile)...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:17, 5 replies)

British Steel
My first job after uni was with British Steel in Sheffield and on the first Friday I was invited for a drink after work at the local dive just outside the works gates - "The Plumpers" - along with seemingly most of the workforce.

Not my immediate boss, but his boss, was an aggressive little jockinese (hello Bob!) and by the time I got there he was already fairly pissed. I was introduced to him as "the new graduate", and he then introduced me to the young lady next to him. This was his secretary with whom he was enjoying some extra-marital nooky.

He then asked me if I would like to fuck her.

Damned if you do - damned if you don't.

"errmmmm...thanks Bob but ermmm.. I..errmmm....think she's very attractive but not really my type thanks"

I then had to endure several minutes of interrogation of why not? Were her tit's too small? Was she too short? Did she have a fat arse? before my actual boss decided to rescue me.

I could never take him seriously after that.
( Blackdogmanguitar is out with Fat Larry's Jazz Band on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:04, Reply)

a previous boss of mine
for a company i worked for a couple of years ago now. an absolute fucking maniac would be the only way to fully describe her. no, actually add to that an ugly, fat disgusting bully who loved to terrorise everyone in the office, i can only presume for the sick satisfaction she got from it all. worse still, she seemed to pick on me more than anyone else for whatever reason, and would regularly scream and shout at me in front of everyone if things weren't done within ridiculously tight deadlines (which were set by herself by the way, i can only imagine just to give her the excuse she needed to pick on me when i inevitably fell short of her outrageous demands).

everything came to a head one morning when, after much screaming and shouting in my general direction i suddenly snapped and shouted 'shut the fuck up' straight back in her face. the entire open-plan office went deathly silent. everyone stared. but i wasn't finished. i then went on the attack and verbally ripped her to shreds in front of everyone before casually strolling out of the office never to return.

luckily i wasn't out of work for long though, i got another job pretty soon afterwards as a badass assassin, where i learnt how to dodge bullets from angelina jolie and everything. the boss there turned out to be a bit of a cunt too though and i had to kill him in the end.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 17:03, 4 replies)

Let's not beat around the bush here
'Foxy, just so you know I'm taking tomorrow and Friday off.' Fair enough really, the whole team had been working on this damn CRM project for 3 months now, so a bit of R&R was acceptable for management too I suppose. 'I take it you'll be in tomorrow then?'

'Of course.' (Well, maybe a couple of hours late. Who's to know?)

'What time will you be in?' (Shit, he's on to me. Play cool Foxy and we're in the clear)

'Er, 9 boss.'

'Really?'

'Okay, 11 at the latest.' (Damn my honesty)

'Would it be easier if I just gave you the time off as well?'

'But I've not got any holidays left for the year?'

'Don't worry, neither have I. See you Monday.'

My manager is a legend.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 18 Jun 2009, 16:58, Reply)

Fudge packer
You'd think working in a fudge factory would be a right laugh. Free fudge for one thing and a Wonka-esque boss for another. Not so. This particular hell hole was infested with rats (immediately ruling out the desire for any of the fudge) and one of the biggest cunts known to man. He was a short fat man and always wore a blue boiler suit and a cap, the kind bakers wear, but pulled down so that his eyes were barely viable.
Everything I did from the moment I walked in was wrong. I swept the floor in a way he didn't find agreeable or I took too long to do a task or did it too quickly and had "made a mess" so had to start over. Instead of telling me himself about the faults in my work everything was relayed through a minion. I think I managed about a month and a half but coming back to work after a weekend away at a festival he called me a knob to my face so I walked out. Him calling me a knob constituted three of the seven or eight words he said directly to me over the course of the six weeks. Turned out he'd had his eye on the summer job I'd got from the factory owner for his son. I wrote a letter of complaint to the owner but didn't hear anything from them again. I think he was made redundant a few months later when the place went under. New owners took over an binned the old staff. The fudge is probably even safe to eat these days.
(cannonfodder fodder for cannons on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 16:50, Reply)

I was that boss
and someone who worked for me, but has since become a friend, still tells everyone of his introduction to me:

"We'd been told that this new manager was coming in as the project was failing. He'd sorted out other failing projects before, blah blah blah. I was expecting some suit to turn up - instead this bloke in jeans and wearing a T shirt saying "Stoned" arrives in our section, introduces himself and says 'It's a nice day outside, lets have this meeting on the grass' and buys us all ice-creams".

That's how to get your team motivated...

...and yes, the project succeeded.

And yes, I am eating a croissant and drinking a glass of wine as I type this.

[Sadly, can't talk about mad psycho bosses as all of mine have been aces. Ho hum]
( I_Was_Mordred, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 16:48, 1 reply)

Trawling my archived emails...
..I came across this piece; an email conversation between a work colleague and I that details the things we dislike about our fellow co-workers:

KI - Nice enough, but takes her job far too seriously. Also have no idea what her boyfriend is doing with her. Probably for her large norks more than anything else.

LM- As above except for the last two sentences. I love the unsure noises she makes when she asks you to do something, or you suggest doing something that isn't quite by the book.

JR - One of the company's premier fashion queens. The kind of person who won't talk to you if you haven't made an effort in dressing up to work. Will also take it really personally if you don't say 'Hello'/'Good Morning' or 'See ya' (in the evening). Insecure as fuck.

JJ- AKA Hugh Grant. The epitome of an English, bumbling, stuttering eccentric, albeit with no charm whatsoever. His office exudes an aroma of muskiness (or is it mustiness?), he's the world's oldest Dad, and his face used to come with free garlic bread. Tries his hardest to fit in with a young crowd and will stammeringly attempt to relate to you by inferring that he is still 'cool', when in fact, he is a cunt. Also makes some of the women feel uncomfortable by staring at their chests mid-conversation. At least I do it discretely...

DR - In essence, alright, but has the jaded, patchy-skinned look of a borderline alcoholic.

WT - Seriously, what the fuck is she doing working here? Hard of hearing in one ear. No discernable idea of what we do as a company and how things work here. More interested in 'marrying up' paperwork and ensuring that 'he matches with him'. Although I do feel sorry for her when she has the unenviable task of talking to SA the cunt.

-------

RG - I've never talked to a more boring person in my life. His main interests are Formula 1 and computers which says it all really. The thing that riles me the most though, is his eating. It's non stop grazing. He's a porky little fucker and it makes me sick watching him eat. I get in a rage when I see he's brought in a lunchbox, but he also goes to the sandwich van. He lives in a little bubble with his wife (who has a huge head). He doesn't mean any harm, but he's dull.

LS - The fucking jobsworth cunt. She thinks she knows best, doesn't listen to my advice, then moans when it inevitably fucks up. When in the warehouse, she'll ring a minimum of 8 times a day. She also lives in a bubble, the sad cunt that she is. All that matters to her is work. Quite a nice body, but she stil fucks me off. I've told her to 'go fuck yourself' twice this year. That's how much she irritates me.

KY - Stomps around like a hefalump. 'CJ this, CJ that' - No one gives a fuck, you loud, thick cunt. What the fuck is a 'league time'? People like her because she's bubbly. I hate her for the same reason

MO - Don't hate her, but she's thick as pig shit and makes extra-long personal calls about her flat every day. Fuck off.

EN -Queen Bee as far as she's concerned. A home-wrecking,stressed out mother-fucker as far as I'm concerned. Again, she thinks she knows best (not true), and stomps her feet when she can't get her own way. What a cunt.

JMW- Blinky cunt. Only makes an effort if she's after something. I don't know how she got her job, she's got not social skills, Ie - she talks and then talks over you. Has delusions of grandeur. Double-barrelled surname? What a daft cunt.

FG - I detest this man. He's a prick that thinks he's hilarious. Has bad dandruff and dodgy fashion sense. An absolute joke. Again, he'll do the rounds saying 'hello' to everyone, but he doesn't give a fuck about anyone apart from the managers and the external staff. Piss-taking, married to an ugly Yank, cunt.

HT - I like her, but her walk annoys me.

AT - What else can I say about this cunt that I haven't already said? Thinks he's God's gift to women, thinks he's funny, thinks he's popular, thinks he dresses better than me. Now, I don't really care if people think I'm a shit dresser, unless it comes from a cunt like him.

DA - Again, I like this lovable nerd, but he does do a weird 'burpy' thing, where he always burps with his mouth closed, about once every minute.

SL - Loud, brash, fucking irritating to work with. Has no sense of politeness or manners. Moans and cries when the going gets tough. Is rude to fellow workers when they ask a simple question. It's impossible to argue with her, even if she's wrong (which is regularly)

BT- I've never heard such a nauseating voice in all my life. She's the human equivalent of a wasp. I wish she'd fuck off, she's annoying, but she keeps coming back, or yaps on the background. Fat, ugly, unkempt, irritating and dresses like a tramp. Also, she looks like she's on speed, gurns when she talks, and, oh yeah, she's a cunt.

BK - "secret-squirrel, hil-arrrious, babe, hun, hun, Top Gear presenters are soo funny,dogs,dogs, hun". YOU ARE A THICK, ANNOYING CUNT.

LR/DW - Grown men, acting like juvenile cunts. They are not funny in the slightest. There's only so much innuendo you can take in a day.

RR - Thick, has boring stories, ugly and a fucking wanker to boot. Seems to think the sun shines out of her arse. I could mention some of her tales, but they're far too boring. All in all, a cunt.



Funnily enough our boss doesn't get mentioned once - she's actually alright
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 16:48, 5 replies)

I'm In Charge I Run A Tight Ship and I'm A Twat..
Ah, the wonderful world of the leisure industry as anyone on here, who, like me, works in nightclubs will tell you that you will come across a fair share of bosses, managers, assistant managers and overpaid arrogant twats who take it out on the lower ranks purely on the basis that they had no friends when they started out in the business as glass collectors...

That said, I've had a fair share of managers, some who have been outright cunts, and others who have'nt - here's a small handfull that I've come across during my many years behind the DJ stand...

I've had a manager who took me on as a resident, paid me a shed load of money, only to sack me, then use photocopies of my invoices to cash in on my wages for himself. Cunt.

Two guys that ran the local pub, where I worked for a number of years, who used our saturday nights as an all out party for us, our staff and the customers, usually involving lots of free beer, stupid games, snorting vodka and climbing up the light fittings for a bet - ending in either serious injury or a round of applause, injuries usually compensated by more free beer. Legends.

Another who was 'skimming the tills' then randomly sacking staff to cover his own back - got caught when he tried to blame me, but I was one step ahead and recorded my till count on a video camera and sent it to head office. Cunt.

One guy who had regular staff drinks on a Saturday which usually involved lots of drinking games, and using the whole club as an assault course so we could have three legged races against each other, spent loads of time organising staff trips to Blackpool, York and Leeds as 'training and research trips' which was basically an excuse for the entire workforce to get absolutely twatted on Corky's shots. Legend.

A bloke who turned up one day, introduced himself as the new manager and single-handedly destroyed one of our biggest events, ruined the club, put forward an absolutely dire refurb and made the club redundant all in a matter of months. Cunt.

Another who was caught banging a girl in the office when our doorlads popped in to let him know the police were here to do a license check, and upon being discovered mid-shagging said 'Alright lads, no worries, tell em' I'll be down in a minute, I'll just finish off here first and I'll be straight down..' Legend.

..and finally, some foreign geezer who sacked all our doorstaff for no reason, then on a night out decided to tell one of said doorstaff 'he was useless' and woke up in intensive care. Genius.

There are many more, and there will be more to come - but hey, that's the leisure industry for you!

Shame I did'nt sign up before the 'nightclubs' QOTW - I'd have needed a whole section for myself.

Length? - About 20 minutes in the cloakroom queue without a ticket.
(danniekavanagh did nothing constructive on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 16:16, Reply)

I worked somewhere once...
....well, I've worked in a lot of places as part of my quest to find the perfect career (which I have now secured coincidentally, and I'm very happy indeed) anyway, I digress.

There was one place I worked at, a car dealership in fact, where I was subjected to the most cuntful twat of a boss I have ever known.

This chap was a lucky so and so, having landed himself the job thanks to his incredible ability to blag his way through any sort of interview. He had some knowledge and banter which he put to use during the interview which served to massage the egos of those who would employ him. Even during the interview process in the exposed glass room, where his soon-to-be department could all see him, his levels of smugness and cuntiness could be clearly identified.

As soon as this driveling, arrogant, self obsessed twat started the hate was unanimous. No one liked him, including me, but it was clear just by looking at him that he was only out to look after himself, no matter what the cost. He looked down on people, he was rude to his co-workers, he tried to scrape by while doing the least amount of work possible. Hell, he was even caught out watching DVD's on his PC a few times. He never bullied anyone, he wasn't intentionally mean, he was just painfully self centered and arrogant, thinking he was something better than them, which is ironic as two of them have gone on to much better things than he ever will.

As is the way with these 'non team players' it wasn't long before he was shown the door. During a rarely seen humble moment, he was unable to think of a single reason why he shouldn't be 'let go', a humiliating display which I'm confident would have dented both his pride and his ego almost beyond repair.

You see, I know all this because that 'manager' if you can call him that, was me.

I learned form that though, and I spent a great deal of time looking back on it with regret. It was a damn good job and it really could have taken me places, but I handled both the job, and the responsibility that came with it poorly. I fucked it, but crucially I learned from it. I could blame the poor training or the lack of support from my managers, but I won't, because while they're both a factor of it all, the camels back was broken because of me and my attitude toward the whole affair.

Still, it's not all bad. It made me a better person, professionally at least (I maintain I'm a nice bloke outside of work, I just took the above role far too seriously). I learned from my every mistake and put that all to good use at my next job, a job where I was part of the team, where I was dare I say it, liked. I got on with everyone but still maintained a likable degree of authority, I was a good manager.

So, yeah, you might have had a manager who was a cunt and for the best part it sounds like a lot of them still are cunts. But on behalf of the select few bosses who just happened to get it wrong, I'd like to say sorry. We're not all awful.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 16:11, 4 replies)

They all float down here
There's a real inherent problem with supermarket management; they're not quite qualified for a real career, but they're a bit too big for your temporary McJob. The resulting notion for your author and his army of shelfstackers is that you go through them faster than Janet Street Porter does dental floss.

First manager was called Freddy. Built like a shithouse and worked from home. Seeing an opportunity, so did we. That lasted a week.

Second manager was a simplistic divorcee called Damien. Every time he came into my vision I'd scream the music from The Omen, customers or no customers. 3 weeks later he had a breakdown, which led to...

Third manager. Carrie. I'm beginning to spot an underlying horror movie theme emerging in my superiors, yet before I can mention it I'm falling victim to a sobering welcoming speech. 'I'm Carrie and I'm in charge. Your break will be at 2pm (I started at 5am) and you may go to the bathroom once at 11am and that will be all. Your holidays will be decided by me next week. Is there anything you want to say?'

'The Geneva Convention'

'What?', she quipped.

'The Geneva Convention. That's G-E-N-E-V-A if you want to look it up. I'm pretty sure you can't tell me when and how often I can go for a piss (I think I may have been wrong, but who was going to call my bluff?).' So that relationship started sour, and quickly plummeted.

As luck would have it, a few months in and she spills the beans that she's off as well. Despite the tensions, she tells the department that we're all welcome to buy her a leaving gift, but as she's petrified of clowns and spiders she's given us a list of what she wants us to buy her.

List binned, I went and brought her a dvd:

ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Uv9AmNEPL._SS500_.jpg

Realising this could cause a bit of a breakdown when she opened it, I thought I'd add to the contents with something a bit more family friendly: a black rubber tarantula.

Best written warning I ever got. If I could find it, I'd frame it.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:48, 3 replies)

I used to work for apeloverage
He was a harsh taskmaster but the free handjobs certainly eased my stress!
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:46, 2 replies)

Ass. Man.
Aged 21 and in my final year at university, I worked part-time in the Virgin Megastore in Leicester. It was a good place to work, the hours and pay were OK, the cheap CDs, videos and games made gift-giving easy and the staff were generally a great bunch. However, there's always one. This one was the assistant manager.

He was a spotty, gangly 19-year-old who'd been on some sort of management course and thus thought he was retail gold, God's gift to women as well as a supreme organiser of manpower. He was, of course, not. He was a bossy, whiney, lazy under-manager who became a running joke among the staff for cocking up or sucking up, blaming others for his mistakes and taking credit for others' work. He became known by the not-very-imaginative yet appropriate nickname of Ass. Man. behind his back.

I'd been there part-time for a while (the other staff were great fun), in fact longer than he'd been around, but he made sure he gave me the crappest jobs he could find. Crawling around behind old shelf units? Repackaging entire genres of CDs? Repairing all those little plastic cases that Playstation memory cards had to go into? If it was demeaning and repetitive, he made sure I got the job.

What used to really get my goat is that he called me "young man" all the time - I was two years older than him, we _all_ had to wear name badges, yet he persisted in patronising me in order to pursue his pathetic power trip. He knew I didn't like it and I think did it all the more just to emphasise his puny authority.


Christmas was, of course, a stupidly busy time. We all worked longer, harder shifts but we thrived on it - once we'd shut the shop we usually all decamped to the pub down the road for noisy drinking, later and louder than we should but it kept us working together.

Did I mention Ass. Man. was also infamous for avoiding his turn at the bar? He liked to let us all know that he was paid more than us, but he was very adept at finding excuses when it was his round.

That year, Richard Branson had given us all very nice Christmas bonuses (as well as a bottle of champagne and a personally-signed card!) so after closing the shop at the end of a long, horrible Christmas Eve (also pay day) we all headed merrily to the pub.

I can't remember how many rounds later, but Ass. Man. had managed (ho ho) to avoid making a trip to the bar long after most of us had spent our bonuses getting rounds in for everyone. People were starting to notice, and an irritated edge was brought to our otherwise festively drunken evening. We collectively and noisily decided it was definitely his round this time and as he returned from the toilet we all let him know.

His ratty, nasty face twitched for a moment and then he resumed his usual slimey grimace - "nah, I'm sure it's [sanityclause]'s round, definitely," he said, "come on, young man, get them in - there's no 'i' in 'team'!"

I loudly agreed. (and this makes more sense if you read this out loud...)

"No, Ass Man, but there is a 'U' in c*nt."
( sanityclause is waiting until, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:44, 3 replies)

Bloody crap QOTWs
What the hell do I know about Bruce Springsteen?
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:39, 4 replies)

First boss out of Uni.
He didn't seem right from the off. The mini comb over which covered about an inch of his bald pate, like he'd inadvertently stuck a Hitler moustache onto the top of his head, made it uncomfortable to avert your gaze upwards while avoiding prolonged visual contact with his wandering eye.

His dress 'sense' was straight out of the Clarkson school of style: too tight jeans with a badly ironed shirt tucked firmly in and exposing a copious gut that looked as though it was trying desperately to escape and crawl down his thighs.

He was overly aggressive in his every action. The conclusion to each phone call would without fail be followed by him muttering 'cunt' after he'd signed off, before his mobile was forcefully returned to the tatty pvc 'leather effect' pouch that hung cheaply from his belt.

He had been married, sired a pair of boys and divorced again before he'd escaped his thirties and this is where his deepest curiosity lay. His divorce wasn't on the grounds of his being an utter cockend. It had nothing to do with the fact that all women, presumably including his former wife, found him to be completely intolerable. It seemingly had nothing to do with his highly questionable approach to sanitation. Indeed, it wasn't his wife who insisted on the separation in the least bit.

Nope, he was divorced for no other reason than the fact that he'd decided relatively late in life to admit to himself, and to the rest of the world, that he was, in fact, as gay as a post. This lager-swilling, punch-throwing, ultra aggressive man's man seemingly couldn't get enough cock up his chocolate starfish; although you'd never know it until he spoke freely about the 'cute young lad' he'd given a 'proper facking facking' to the night before.

All this made him quite an amusing character to work for. He spoilt the potential for amusement, however, by doing his utmost to groom the very naive and vulnerable young warehouse lad; who was straight out of school, really quite unsure of himself and most certainly not of the age of consent for gay sex. That was very, very disturbing indeed.
( Moey, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:35, 1 reply)

is ace..
...and he's not reading this over my shoulder!

Pissing it down yesterday, so I do the nice thing and drive my girlfriend to work rather than let her get soaked waiting for public transport.

Didn't get to my desk until 9:30 (recommended start time 8-8:30) he just says "Morning Hating - coffee?" We bitch about a bunch of twunts the senior management are. He signs my expenses off with a wink and then at 3:30 he goes, "I'm done for the day - pub? Company's buying"

If it weren't for him I'd have gone postal in this job many a time.
(hating swallows is 20 yards from the nearest Jaffa cake, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:28, 5 replies)

A Company
Who shall remain nameless but whose products are pretty much limited to tinted daylight optics, and whose name could be said to describe a small building made of shaded transparent material, once tried to tell me I had taken the wrong amount from a customer's credit card and would therefore be docked that amount from my pay. When I rang the head office I was told only my manager could be spoken to about this problem (despite her not having been officially informed in the first place).

Then it transpired the "evidence" (till receipts) was with another manager, for no reason, and finally it emerged that they had been lost. All this while I was still on a probationary period and supposed to be under the full watch and responsibility of my manager and assistant manager (both of whom were great and told me not to worry). Finally they dropped these stupid allegations, but not before I'd lost most of my faith in their system.

I lost all my faith in their system when the area manager (a dippy cow brought in on the basis of her past management experience in another company after our original area manager was promoted) totally failed to support me in a decision I had made - regarding whether or not a customer was entitled to a refund or just store credit - completely by the company book.

Nice staff, shit higher management.
(zenmeban thinks the weather could be better, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:23, Reply)

I worked on a building site years ago.
A joiner turned up one day, who was living in digs. Unfortunately he turned up with no tools, obviously couldn't do his job, so he decided to make himself gaffer. He spent the entire month chain smoking, his fave expression was "Fuck 'em, have a fag."
Idle fat cunt. He was a Southener too, just to add the jizz to the chin.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:17, 5 replies)

I used to work in the kitchen of a rather up-market Indian restaurant in Wakefield.
My gaffer was a top bloke, but the front-of-house manager was a silly little bitch who had recently finished university and looked down her nose at everyone - even though she was possibly the least skilled person working there. The notion of "last orders" seemed quite alien to her, as she'd frequently let people in for over an hour past the official closedown time. A number of the kitchen staff quit because of this (we were often working 16-hour days, especially at weekends.) Plus, when the kitchen manager wasn't in, she'd act as if she was in charge of the kitchen and boss us around as if we, trained and fully-qualified professionals, were no better than the waiters (who were mainly kids after a bit of extra pocket money.) It was a mystery as to how exactly she'd got herself hired, as she was completely incapable of doing her job properly and nobody liked her.

In the end, she got sacked - not for her attitude problem and general incompetence, but for fiddling the books and using some of the restaurant's funds to finance a luxury holiday.
(WANKERTRON you say "prick", I say "wanker", Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:16, 2 replies)

I'd love to say ill of my current boss....
....but I really can't.

We spent yesterday having Nerf gun fights in the office, we have a small (but potentially murderous) bike which we race around the office. We get on like a house on fire, we spend a great deal of timing abusing the staffer about his oddly shaped head. We've been known to have dance-offs in the office too, as you do. The banter is always flowing and for the most part, we always have a laugh.

He's been a damn good mate too, helping me through my divorce and all the associated troubles. He's also been a major driving force in my career, ensuring that I'm always give the opportunities I deserve.

Still, I maintain that we are professional, in fact I'd even go as far as to say we're really quite good at what we do.

Sorry, not particularly funny, but thought it might be nice to throw in a pleasant boss story.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:12, Reply)

I collect awful bosses
Hmm a length question at the start - many small deposits or one large one? Hmm a full load in one go I think!

What have I tolerated?

During my time working at a now de-funct store that was well worth it I was managed by:
- A graduate manager who had just finished university and took the role so seriously he wore a suit every day, despite spending most of his time in the stock room sweeping up and tidying away cardboard.

- The manager who would never back you up. When someone held me up with a knife for the cash in the till, he refused to come down stairs until the police arrived.

- The bastard manager who on his first day made 4 of the girls cry, including forcing one girl who'd just lost her child to a miscarriage (after her boyfriend had beat her to a pulp) to work on the toy departmet. Was evil to me until I told him where the fuck to get off. After that he was nice as pie to me.

In various office jobs:
- The manic depressive see www.b3ta.com/questions/bastardcolleagues/post115945

- The beared woman see www.b3ta.com/questions/hypocrisy/post371355

- The useless manager, who asked me how to do his job all the time, including asking me how to fill in my evaluation (just tick 4 all the way down...)

- The part time manager. He spent more time in world of warcraft during working hours than he did in the office. Apparently I could call him whenever I needed him to help out. He just never answered cos he couldn't hear over his headphones. No one else seemed to notice or care about him not being there.

- The spiteful manager who couldn't understand why I didn't see data entry as my career and so made sure I got the worst of all the data entry jobs (I hadn't picked to do data entry; my graduate placement was just awful). She'd spent 10 years to get to her position of power and was puzzled I didn't want to follow her career path.

- The manager who'd had a stroke. Great guy but he had a habit of drinking at lunch time and spending the rest of the afternoon dribling or spilling food all over his and my desk, but no one could say anything about it.

- The very efficient manager, where everything was filed neatly and precisely and all documents labelled the same, libraries organised, check lists made for all activities; but didn't actually do anything except re-organise the above all the time in a quest for perfection, rather than get on with her own job.

My wife now thinks I either deliberately choose loonies to work for, or they can't help but go made after meeting me.

Any way got to go, meeting a lovely old fellow in North Korea, apparently he has a job I'd be perfect for...
(Wooden meal is. Or is he?, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:04, Reply)

Gah!
Never had a scary boss or comic boss or anyone approaching David Brent levels of twatness, all my bosses have been fairly normal, decent people. Curses!

Ah well, I'm sure a pun-tastic reply will hit me sooner or later...
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 15:04, Reply)