My Boss
Thinks he's above everyone else!

(mind you I am the Pope)
(kitescreech still here, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 12:37, 2 replies)

My boss
The other day I rocked into work about noon after a tiring holiday, about ~1.30 the boss popped up on Yahoo messenger and told me to try and look busy as he might pop in a bit later.

I hate my job :D
(fridgefreezer inserted a topical reference into his sig on, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 12:37, Reply)

ESP
I once got into trouble for having my esp switched off.

My gaffer changed my rota and didn't tell me or indeed anyone else.

I turned up for work and was handed a bollocking because i should have known that my hours had changed. When i asked him how i was supposed to know i was told that "the way we work here we are expected to be proactive"

I told him this was utter bullshit but he refused to believe that he was in the wrong
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 12:37, 1 reply)

My Boss
What a loser, has major trouble getting a girlfriend (many people think he's gay). Lives in a flat with a struggling actor. A few weeks back he ranted over the phone about how I should care about the WENUS becasue HE cares about the WENUS.

(rumour has it his dad's a Drag artist in Vegas!)
(kitescreech still here, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 10:20, 4 replies)

My boss buys me bottles of port as a reward for my hard work...
...or because she wants to get in my pants.

Meh, I'm open to suggestion.
( mcdoof fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 10:01, 1 reply)

Best Boss
The old man at the end of "the Darkness" - only took 1 bullet to kill him!
(kitescreech still here, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 9:41, 1 reply)

racist,
abusive, patronising, sneaky, no control over his temper, hated his wife and argued with her constantly. To be honest I never should've left Barcelona.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 9:27, 4 replies)

Workshy doesn't even begin to cover it
Like a few other b3tards, my boss seems to be an absolute dab hand at avoiding work like it's some sort of plague-like disease.

In the time I've worked there (a year and a half) I can count on one hand the number of times she's worked a full work week. Most days she doesn't work her full shift. "Mysteriously", she's often not feeling well on Fridays and Mondays. But mostly Fridays. Her excuses have included:

- An ongoing skin rash (which clearly prevents her from doing a desk job);
- An alleged cancer scare (which mysteriously disappeared in a matter of two weeks);
- Numerous colds, general "I'm not feeling wells", and other petty complaints;
- Her kid being sick (repeat ad infinitum);
- Her daycare sending her kid home for one reason or another (she must have the most unreliable daycare in the world);
- Having to take days off before and after business trips. Anyone else who works there is expected to work up until the time they have to drive to the airport and to be back straight after returning;
- Other ridiculous excuses too numerous to mention.

It's just sad, and it's doubly disheartening because if you ever try and take a sick day, you get treated like you're taking advantage of the company. Management at the company is getting fired and replaced at the moment like it's some kind of holy mission, so I can only hope she's one of the next ones to go.

I'm sure I'll have more stories about her, because she's an absolute corker. She has about as much leadership ability as I do talent with Photoshop.
(BlackArmadillo Avoided writing that article on, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 0:30, Reply)

Bleh
I seem to have worked for a succession of slightly odd bosses...

Exhibit A: Hotel owner, 45-47 years of age. Thought he was a working class hero (despite Daddy's country mansion and career in the colonial service). Would take all the petty cash to buy drugs, would fuck his paranoid porcine wife in the bar of the hotel whilst we were cleaning up. Obsessed with birds. Picked up a prostitute and brought her back to the hotel 'for dinner'.

Exhibit B: Middle Management type. Aged about 50. Weak chinned. Belonged to a bizarre Christian sect which claimed the second coming of Christ had happened in Kent 800 years ago. Tucked his trousers into his socks. His belt was about level with his diaphragm. Hid behind pot plants trying to over hear conversations that were 'unbecoming at work'.

Exhibit C: Lower management. Aged about 35. Obsessed with foreigners coming over here and stealing our jobs. Was sent to India to work with some IT contractors. Pissed them off after complaining that only Indian food could be found in India, and why couldn't they get some fish and chips in.

Exhibit D: Book store owner. Aged about 40. Drunkard. His wife was a slattern who attempted to seduce anything with a dick. Got so drunk he locked himself in the toilet, passed out and when he came to became convinced that it was some massive conspiracy to allow his workers to sleep with his wife. Smashed up his own shop in a rage.

Exhibit E: Company Director. Aged about 45, but with the intellect, social poise and grace, and humour of an 8 year old boy who enjoys stabbing cats with coat hangers. Also devoutly Christian. Used the organisation of the Holocaust as an analogy for the successful running of a company. Frequently had dried egg stains on his tie. Once had the police called to his house because he'd left his 6 and 8 year old children alone there whilst he and his wife went to a weekend Christian retreat.

Exhibit F: Supermarket manager. Age indeterminate. Eyebrows that met in the middle. Wore the collar of his shirt far too tight, making his adam's apple look like a gigantic red pustule. Greasy hair. Was engaged in dubious sexual practices with shelf stackers (of both sexes) employed from local schools for work experience. Regularly stole alcohol from the store. Only ate pasties, scotch eggs, and pork pies. Was convinced that he'd been abducted by aliens. Smelt faintly of mayonnaise.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 0:17, Reply)

bonkers boss
i too have been waiting for such a question, a while back now i spent 5 years working for a 'financial information publication' company if i say that they write "facts about money" you might get the name the founder of this company was probably the first person to have the idea to sit down... ring round some banks, write down what loans and stuff they offer and then publish the info to who ever wanted it... that was in 1988 and back then it was quite a good idea now it is a fairly large company, but unfortunately very misguided, which is why you hear all about compare this and compare that on telly but its nothing to do with the company this story is about.. even though they were the first company ever to collect and publish this type of data..

the main reason for this misguided outlook was the prick of a founder/chief exec, his company his way, he was the most pompous, egocentric, eccentric, stubborn, arrogant knob i've ever met here are a few highlights of things he did.

- every morning the 'house' staff would have to open the mail, remove any paperclips from documents and replace them with little neat black ones that had to be specially ordered from a certain company that did them to spec.

- each cubicle in the toilets had a toilet roll holder that held two rolls side by side... each evening the cleaners would have to swap and replace toilet rolls depending on their remaining paper sizes so that they matched and looked equal i actually saw a cupboard full of rolls at various stages of use.

- the company was housed on 3 floors of a 4 floor building and each floor was about the size of a football pitch.. they each had a main carpet with a different coloured border round the edge... this border was changed 5 times at a cost of about £7000 a time and still wasn't the right colour

- each floor was color co-ordinated and god forbid you should take a chair from one floor to another for a meeting or something like that.

- we once had a meeting to talk about how we should go about organising and having meetings.... i kid you not !!

- hired several web designers and spent over £1,000,000 building a website that couldn't do anything that google can't do for you and was slower at it aswell, then gave it no publicity except for a small ad on the back of the magazines the company published... it got about 10 hits a day and was decommisioned a year later.

- the same web designers would be seen crying on their keyboards after a visit from him, after using all the best technology and practices for designing websites at the time, with some incredibley impressive graphics work, he would walk in and completely undo all the work and ideas and insist on simple stuff like text based buttons and no flashy stuff that people (meaning him) dont understand

- insisted on the train once in first class that his cheap bottle of wine be served chilled in the appropiate silver bucket with ice

- during the fire brigade strike a few years back, he had the letter box sealed over, all microwaves, kettles, toasters, coffee machines and any other heating device removed and locked away and did ask if the house/security staff would consider doing night shifts.

- i worked in IT, it was beneath him to put paper into a photocopier/printer and so the machine would be declared "out of order" with a little hanging sign

- every fortnight the head of each department would have to go on the 'house walkaround' this involved going around with him and looking at problems around the entire building... so for my department he could spot a network cable or power cable out of place at 100 yards (all cables were color coded aswell) all empty desks had to have a working phone and computer to make it appear we had more staff then we did, this was difficult as our phone system could only connect 130 phones and there was 142 desks. he did however eventually give up coming into the main server room and trying to tell us how to manage space and cables and systems.

thats a few of a list of many, to be fair he did throw fantastic xmas bashes, everyone had hampers and that, girls used to get flowers on b/days and men got bottles of wine or scotch, the building was all the nicer to work in for his efforts and there was a fussball table and games consoles, although this was yet another effort to make his company seem to be competing with the likes of virgin or other high level institutions that provide entertainment and games to help their staff be creative, it was all show...

he did wonder why his staff turnover was so high and why the 'investors in people' award status he received one year was taken away the next.

oh and did i mention he was a prick ?

length ? 5 years of the shit
(maxumus HEY!.... diddly dee, de de de de de de, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 0:16, Reply)

Like most winemakers he goes vat to vat tasting the wines to make sure they are doing alright. Most winemakers spit it out in the drain instead of swallowing to avoid getting drunk, but my boss spits his swirled and gargled wine back into the vats because he is a cheap cunt and doesnt want any profits to go down the drain.
(10011, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 23:24, 6 replies)

You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this question!!!
Brace yourself this will be epic long.

Sometime ago (well a couple of months anyway) I had the most piss-take of jobs and was forced to work with the most stupid person of all time. These examples are only the tip of the iceberg as me and my girlfriend would regulary have "Sarahs Stupid Quote" everyday about new things she drempt up. These are a collection of my favourites and the ones I can remember. Will post more if asked and most importantly, if I dont make QOTW with this one, I will finally give up.

------------

Lets begin. Basically, I worked for a publishing company and I made the pictures for each sponsor (ie. A magazine on health? We'd call gyms and the karate dojo that took up the offer would have a picture made by me). However, due to Sarah coming from a sales background and now starting her own business from scratch, she'd never thought about managing staff not to do with sales and had no IT knowledge, so I was in charge of that too. Then again, she didn't relise I'd need a computer to make the pictures, so I brought my own in each day.

After 3 months, she decided to buy a company computer, and spent 3 weeks deciding which one was best and I told to get XP or Vista. (Incidentially, she bought a Dell running Windows '98 because "the man in the shop said they were the latest".)

------------

When she opened the bank business bank account at Barclays she also spent extra £700 on computer programs to manage her overheads and so on too. 4 Months later, she asked me if they'd be any use to me because she didn't have a clue. I declined.

------------

Jan 10th...

"billybobbean, whats the date?"
"erm, the 10th."
"oh, thanks."

15 minutes later:

"billybobbean, whats the date again?"
"the 10th, Sarah"
"cheers"

10 minutes later:

"billybobbean, whats the date?"
"Ahem. Its the 10th"
"Thanks."

20 Minutes later? The punchline:

"billybobbean, ("if she asks me the fucking date now...")

... WHATS THE DATE TOMORROW?"

------------

Very trustworthy, or maybe a little bit nieve. She didn't know how to take credit card over the phone (hard when your running a call centre) so I suggested paypal as a temporary means until she got a card machine sorted (this took her 3 months).

To verify paypal, she allowed me to scan her drivers licence, two copies of her home address and business credit card (the last one not needed, it was her suggestion, in her words, "just to be sure"). This was to my own laptop and she never asked me to delete them or at least see what I did with them ( still have them on my dekstop now actually).

------------

Seeing as mine was the only laptop, I held every piece of document to every customer. The only other back up was hardcopy, kept in a ring binder. The ring binder was lost 4 times in one day once.

------------

Sarah's boyfriend would visit each day (to be fair, he give her the 10K to start the business and he was a nice bloke to talk to). How did he have a 10K lying around? He was a cocaine dealer. Sarah also had a coke habit... towards the end of my career there, she started to develop a scab under her right nostril.

------------

Other appereance attributes include a fuckload of fake tan. Im not against fake tan generally, but when you walk into the office on Monday morning to genuineally think for a split second that your bosses race has changed from white to black, you know they are too excessive. Clothing in her office was casual, so I generally wore teans slightly below my arse and a t-shirt. She generally wore PVC leggings, lots of green gold and a top that Kat from Eastenders might wear. On a hangover.

------------

After fucking up for 3 months in a row (ie. two sales a week, the target was 7 a day), her silent partner became unsilent. To be fair, this isn't really down to her, but his honoury mention comes from the time he let us get off an hour early on Friday because he had to go the police station for an assult charge he had been arrested for a few months back ("I don't blame the police for nicking me like, they're only doing the're job innit?"

------------

Eventually I left when I was told to "do my fucking work" and I told them to fuck off. Ive unemployed since March, and I start my new job on Monday!! If I've got another crank, I'll let you know.
(billybobbean is still trying to make it QOTW's best of the week, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 22:35, 3 replies)

My boss is shagging my mother : /
And that's the only reason I got the job.
( girlinthehole, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 21:44, 4 replies)

Smart, capable, easily manipulated
My boss is, really, great. I never tell her that though, otherwise my job wouldn't be anywhere near as fun. She's gorgeous really as well, very young for her position and runs the place brilliantly.

But honestly? I have her wrapped round my little finger. I'm bloody good at my job, basically, and that makes me rather indispensible. I can get away with almost anything. I can come into work pretty much any time I want, treat idiotic customers just like they deserve to be treated, hire and fire staff and almost anything else you could think of. I once got a plasma TV installed in my office after threatening to go on strike if I didn't get it.

As for our personal relationship, I pretty much constantly berate and belittle her. She does her best to give as good as she gets, but she's more insecure than I am, so I usually have the upper hand - although she has managed to make me question myself a couple of times. It leads to some pretty serious sexual tension, which I play up occasionally, just to rip the rug out from under her when I can. We had a bit of a fling a few years ago, which wasn't a good idea really, but it leads to endless ammunition.

I don't know if we'll ever really get it on, and I don't know if I'll ever stop being such a complete bastard to her. But I do know that my job is awesome and it probably wouldn't be as good without her. But like I said, I'd never tell her that.

Dr. Gregory House, M.D.
(cypherspace is not a toaster, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 21:43, 1 reply)

This one time
I walked into the office and my colleague Stuart had his pants round his ankles, was bent over the desk and my boss was fucking him up the arse. Stuarts eyes were glazed and there were beads of perspiration dripping off my boss's forehead onto his arse crack. The angle was such that I was able to witness the pendulous motion of my boss's shrunken wrinkly balls as they arced one last time and came to rest in between Stuarts legs. I could see his grip tighten around his hips as he pulled himself closer to Stuart. Which thankfully obscured my view of his erect member stretching Stuarts' distastfully visible black hole of want.

"Yeess", drawled my boss in his curious monotone voice, "can I help you?".
"umm, what are you doing?" I asked in a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"Stuarts getting a pay rise! What the fuck does it look like we're doing!", he shot back.
"Is it ok if I just work for mine. I don't really like being fucked up the arse by your corperate greed?".
"Fine, but it'll take a lot longer you know. Now fuck off! Stuart and I were just about to start talking figures".

Stuart enjoyed a swift and glorious rise to the top. I on the other hand preferred to labour intensely long hours and hope I would get noticed. I did eventually, but I had to leave that company to get appreciated. I saw Stuart the other day in the shops. He walks with a limp now, but drives a pretty flash car. Decisions decisions...
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 18:17, Reply)

I was training to be in the armed forces.
As I had reasonably good grades, and apparently a rather well-known Dad, I was snapped up by officer training. Unfortunately, one of our training officers did not get on very well. There was this one absolute bastard of a test he devised which everybody failed. Well, I worked out a way to pass it and really fucked him off. He complained that I cheated and I got suspended from the academy.

Anyway, a small incident occurred whilst I was suspended. His planet was destroyed by a rogue alien, and his mother was killed. He didn't take too kindly to my suggestions that we should go hunt down this motherfucker, so he ejected me over a desolate ice world where I met his future self, we transported back onto his ship and I proved him to be emotionally compromised.

Which was nice.

Yours,

James T Kirk

/anorak.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Sat 20 Jun 2009, 17:32, 3 replies)

Used to think some were idiots, but after other stories here, not that bad
Edit - Did write my whole employment history on bosses, but after reading other peoples here I realise they were mostly ok, just average, not good enough to be a proper useful worker and arse-kissy enough to get the cushy higher paid role (a typical manager then), and I realise I left coz a colleague was a c**t or a CEO/Director was

1 - First job, newsagent, Boss, Drunk, every morning, eventually shut and VHSs flogged for 50p each

1.5 - One Stop, dragon

3 - CNC engineering firm, boss stank of putrid swarfeegar and 'other' odours

4 - CNC #2, Boss was a c**t of the highest order, Hitler in a long grey coat and no 'tash, one and only time i've been sacked, never gave me a chance or any instructions or detail on work, and after 3 months and one broken diamond tipped fly cutter (i'd set the clamps 1mm too high) I was out on my arse.

8 - Lazy, ex-civil service, going nowhere, charge local authorities 400% markup on everything, who's going to check, type place and people.

9 - Tsk

10 - Ruthless, ripped off employees and customers with a shit eating grin on their face, company sold and folded by new buyers, whereabouts unknown

11 - Current, Ace. Ex-Military environment, very cool bosses one level above us, know what they are talking about, give space and time to civi-subordinates (us), their bosses are not military, but are typical middle manager, going no further in their career-types, can be almost actively seen blocking any real progress in favour of the status quo, despite the infrastructure really starting to creek, but us engineers not being able to do anything meaningful due to under funding and lack of time and resources.
(coupon_chicken, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 17:14, Reply)

I might tell this in more detail later...
...but Paul


I got my fingers wet in your daughter in 2001.

At your 4th wedding.

Thanks,and sorry I didn't buy you a present.

(probably would have done it regardless of whether you were a shit boss or not admittedly)
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 14:43, Reply)

Welcome to the Dole queue, cripple.
My last boss thought my dodgy leg prevented me from doing my job properly. Because, as we all know, most admin positions require a functioning pair of legs as opposed to, say, a working brain...
(underachiever, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 14:27, Reply)

Self centred?
I will keep this short.


I used to work for a woman that.after a friends (of mine, not hers) 17 year old son died of cancer, she said:

'Why do these things always happen to me'


Sally, you were a self centred bitch. I doubt you have changed.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 14:15, Reply)

My boss is a cunt
But that's Ok. I'm a dick. It's a symbiotic relationship.
(StinkyCheeseMan, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 13:28, 7 replies)

The Saga of Steve
Steve was a bit of a gorilla who was 'Head of Replenishment', or some such, when I used to spend my teenage nights shelf-stacking in Safeway.

-On his breaks, he'd get an Aero and vegetable soup from the vending machines and dip the Aero in the vegetable soup. I was once persuaded to try this, and have to admit it did actually work out far tastier than expected.
-He developed a massive paranoia about the local Asda, which he felt was outperforming Safeway. He visited Asda repeatedly (in disguise so they wouldn't cotton on), and made complaints in their comments book so bizarre that he hoped it would take them hours and possibly large amounts of money trying to deal with them. My personal favourite (this went on for months) was "I have a chronic lack of balance caused by a mental condition and have fallen over several times on the slope leading down to your entrance. If you do not remedy the situation, I WILL sue."
-One Christmas, he wanted to drag a pallet of chocolates out onto the shop floor and just dump it there to save time actually 'stacking', but there was an old couple unwarily blocking the door to the stockroom. Politely ask them to move? Too slow. He pushed the pallet INTO them, shouting 'Beep beep!' at the last moment, then steered the pallet around the old lady's prone form and zoomed off into the store, while I helped a dumbfounded pensioner pick up his weeping wife.
-Is your stockroom getting too full because you have too many bales of compacted cardboard lying around on pallets waiting for collection? Wheel them out into the staff carpark, tip them off the pallets, and set fire to them. The fire brigade (called by the panicking store manager) were a little peeved.

His Nemesis came in the form of a bloke who worked in the store bakery, who he got into a prolonged feud with. It escalated in the break room to a proper shouting match, and he told the guy (in front of an assistant manager) that he was the wrong man to fuck with because he' got a shotgun at home and wasn't afraid to use it.

I was very sad to see him go, he made spending four hours a night checking the baked beans hadn't run out a far more unpredictable and exciting experience than it might otherwise have been.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 11:00, Reply)

I once worked for the RSPCA
My boss at the time was an uppity porky woman who did nothing around the RSPCA shelter and possibly decided that the only job she had to do was make my life hell.

The RSPCA has a million paws walk every year and it somehow became my job to fold all the millions of flipping advertisement pieces of shit paper. So there I sat, folding away happily and contemplating if it was still considered going postal if I tore into the office the next morning with an uzi, shot all the workers and set all the kitties free. Miss Bitchy Boss checked up on me constantly throughout the folding job and said diddly squat to me as she sipped her coffee.

I finished mid afternoon with sore hands and a strong desire to poison the office coffee. (note: I HATED that job. Hence the killing desires constant throughout my day)

In walks Miss Sagging-tits-can't-get-a-man-hated-me-because-I-was-younger.. she stops, looks at the thousands of folded and neatly piled phamphlets and says

"You folded them wrong. It's left over right. I hope you didn't fold them all this way"

All said before she laughed, flicked the phamphlet at me and walked off to sit on her fat ass. She had checked what I was doing atleast 6 times without saying a word on how I was folding them!

I held my composure. I was a patient girl even in my younger years. I knew that it was only a matter of time before Satan (a dog that I named Satan who even the RSPCA feared to put down) bit off the physco bitches face.

It was possibly me who was more physco thinking of millions of different ways to kill my boss but hey, women in general are physco bitches :D
( Squishtastic is having bouts of insomnia.. beware b3ta, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 9:52, 4 replies)

I have 2 bosses (the managing directors of the small business I'm in)
they seem to unintentionally do the "good manager, bad manager routine" regarding finances, which I'm in charge of somehow. one of them (who shall be called orson) just says "the finances are wrong" and asks me to work out how much we rally have, from data he claims to be "wrong" (typical boss logic there!). all I do is point out that a cheque hasn't cleared or we haven't received for an order has been added, and orson leaves confused. a few minutes later, my other manager (who shall be referred to as H. G.) walks past, and asks basically the same questions packaged differently: "are you sure the finances are right?" and similar questions. he then brings me the raw data, and asks me to double check it (which makes mre sense than chacking wrong figures against wrong data really)and leaves me to check, when orson shows up again and tells me to stop reading what he somehow assumes is a newspaper and tells me to get back to "fixing" the finances. he did it once while I was ill... and it took me a week so sort it out. inb other news, nobody is entirely sure when we make sales, including the sales department...
(venort apparently exists, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 9:48, Reply)

my boss is an anemic-looking blonde
who thinks she's better than everyone else. Unlike most such people, she claims to be far older than she can possibly be. She also thinks she can do spells. I'm elf-employed.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 8:08, 4 replies)

The memory still makes me shudder
He was promoted well above his limited ability levels and had no personal skills to speak of. He systematically set about destroying the branch through a catalogue of ill founded decisions and deteriorating relationships with customers and suppliers.

A typical example; he is in my office, a call comes through from a customer with an overdue delivery, I mouth the customer name he bellows “Tell the fat cunt I’ve fucked off home but make it sound good.”

Worse, he constantly scratched his balls through, and sometimes from within the confines of his pale blue sweatpants. Ate close to you, talking bollocks with his mouth open giving everyone a closeup of his saliva saturated cheese and jam sandwiches. Same lunch every day. He had no sense of personal space or personal belongings and picked up my keys to clean great wads of hard brown wax from his ears. The bastard didn’t even have the grace to wipe it off before dropping the keys back on my desk.

He wore white socks with black shoes and pale blue sweatpants.

Inevitably the company closed, I was responsible for calculating all unpaid leave and redundancy payments so did quite well out of it but it still rankled.

Three months later, unable to find work he decided to end it all by hanging himself in his loft. Twisted an ankle and put the other foot through the ceiling when the knot failed. Fucking typical.
(occassional, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 4:05, 2 replies)

I was doing 'work based training'
At the tender age of seventeen, having just left school I ended up on some NVQ work based training thingie...

I wanted to do something in an office (fuck knows why)and bizarrely ended up doing a gardening course (fuck knows why) and ended up in the leathery hands of an employer called Bob.

There were many aspects of this job i disliked. Mainly because i wasn't technically gardening as such. More like walking around HUGE fields all day with a battered old lawn mower for miles...

Some of these fields were ex-pykie sites (you know shit stained sheets and human turds and souring milk bottles and christ knows what else)... I was also accompanied by the ONLY bloke on the planet who enjoyed this type of work. God knows what his name was as he very rarely talked and just seemed to adore nothing more than trundling off across a field chopping bits of grass and turd up with a inane grin upon his face.

Anyway, that's a story for another day.

BOB.... Bob was the mad bastard who used to punch his dashboard if a song on the radio was to his displeasure. Bob was the guy who shouted and ranted at anybody else on the road for having the damned cheek of having a car and license (and possibly sharing the same planet at him).

Bob was the bastard who left me stranded in the pissing down rain in the middle of fucking Knutsford service station for five hours in the pouring rain, expecting me to mow a huge length of grass with his shitty little lawnmower.

The fucker had only forgotten to put petrol in it hadn't he?

Bob was the same bastard who shouted at me when he finally returned hours later, to find me me bedraggled and sodden, huddled up against the service station wall and not a single blade of grass had been even licked by his shitty little lawn mower.

I left the next day.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 3:58, 2 replies)

my boss is harvey milk
and he wants you to drink his milk
( d d, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 2:57, Reply)

I was sixteen and a virgin....
....working in the pizza store next door to the catholic church where I used to confess to Father Doherty (who used to shout at me for working sundays and would only go away if I gave him a free ham and pineapple...every fucking week) Anyway I was very very innocent and the boss..I shall call him 'Pete' as that twas his name...found out that it was the birthday of an equally sad and equally young pizza spinner so decided at the end of our shift would surprise the lad with a 'kissagram'. Picture the scene. Me, 'the lad', Eileen (56 year old assistant manager), Pete (knob) and various Asian and very religious delivery drivers stood nervously around at 2am in a tiny back pizza office clutching beakers of warm white wine. Anyhoo..'kissagram' arrives..except she's about 15 stone and drops her trenchcoat to perform a routine which would be thrown out of most clubs in Amsterdam for indecency while all the while 'Pete' whoops and cheers and the rest of us gaze at the floor and really try not to look at each other. Eileen eventually burst into tears and threw a 'company fleece' over the poor woman. Within six weeks everyone in the room had left the company in a fug of shame and embarrassment. Good work Pete!
(Betty Spencer did a whoopsie on the carpet on, Sat 20 Jun 2009, 2:09, Reply)