Why should you be fired from your job?
I spent three years "working" in the Ministry of Agriculture carefully crafting projectiles out of folded paper and drawing pins that I would then fire at colleagues with an elastic band. On discovering I'd been conducting all-out warfare when I should really have been in a field counting cows, I was asked to "reconsider my career options" outside the service.
Why, then, should you be fired from your job?
( , Thu 9 Aug 2007, 13:04)
I spent three years "working" in the Ministry of Agriculture carefully crafting projectiles out of folded paper and drawing pins that I would then fire at colleagues with an elastic band. On discovering I'd been conducting all-out warfare when I should really have been in a field counting cows, I was asked to "reconsider my career options" outside the service.
Why, then, should you be fired from your job?
( , Thu 9 Aug 2007, 13:04)
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Whilst working for a free ads paper
in London that rhymes with Boot I got bored selling ads (they were only free to the general public) and decided to liven things by nasally ingesting heroic amounts of ketamine and then getting back on the phone. First call didn’t go too well. Whilst waiting for the client to answer my mind began to wander and when they finally answered I announced “You’re through to ‘Boot’, how can I help?”
“You called me!?!”
“Whatever.”
They got progressively worse from there. At one point I nearly reduced a receptionist to tears. I’d been told that I sounded like her boss so I rang up and told her that I knew she’d been having an affair with the sales manager (a fat version of Ted McShane from Hi-de-Hi) and that she should clear her desk and leave immediately before crying with laughter and hanging up.
Eventually my boss overheard me telling a client not to bother advertising with us as it was a waste of money because he’d get a crap response anyway.
At this point I was hauled into his office to explain myself. I questioned him as to why he was such a shit manager whom the entire office despised and called him a ginger cunt. He apologised and I fucked off to the pub. Happy days.
( , Fri 10 Aug 2007, 7:14, Reply)
in London that rhymes with Boot I got bored selling ads (they were only free to the general public) and decided to liven things by nasally ingesting heroic amounts of ketamine and then getting back on the phone. First call didn’t go too well. Whilst waiting for the client to answer my mind began to wander and when they finally answered I announced “You’re through to ‘Boot’, how can I help?”
“You called me!?!”
“Whatever.”
They got progressively worse from there. At one point I nearly reduced a receptionist to tears. I’d been told that I sounded like her boss so I rang up and told her that I knew she’d been having an affair with the sales manager (a fat version of Ted McShane from Hi-de-Hi) and that she should clear her desk and leave immediately before crying with laughter and hanging up.
Eventually my boss overheard me telling a client not to bother advertising with us as it was a waste of money because he’d get a crap response anyway.
At this point I was hauled into his office to explain myself. I questioned him as to why he was such a shit manager whom the entire office despised and called him a ginger cunt. He apologised and I fucked off to the pub. Happy days.
( , Fri 10 Aug 2007, 7:14, Reply)
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