The Boss
My chief at a large retail chain used to decide on head office redundancies by chanting "One potato, two potato" over the staff list. Tell us about your mad psycho bosses - collect your P45 on the way out.
Bruce Springsteen jokes = Ban, ridicule
( , Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:06)
My chief at a large retail chain used to decide on head office redundancies by chanting "One potato, two potato" over the staff list. Tell us about your mad psycho bosses - collect your P45 on the way out.
Bruce Springsteen jokes = Ban, ridicule
( , Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:06)
« Go Back
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.
( , Sat 20 Jun 2009, 3:58, 2 replies)
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.
( , Sat 20 Jun 2009, 3:58, 2 replies)
Hang on a minute
Sounds like an asshead. Were you too young to buy some petrol though?
( , Sat 20 Jun 2009, 10:45, closed)
Sounds like an asshead. Were you too young to buy some petrol though?
( , Sat 20 Jun 2009, 10:45, closed)
was gonna say
it was a service station, fill 'er up and have him pay when he got back, the twat.
( , Sat 20 Jun 2009, 15:17, closed)
it was a service station, fill 'er up and have him pay when he got back, the twat.
( , Sat 20 Jun 2009, 15:17, closed)
« Go Back