In The Beginning.......
Right then, in agreement with some earlier posts, I won’t go on about my current job because people know who I am now…but I’ll say this one, as it happened yonks ago.

My first proper job was for a free weekly newspaper that depended on advertising revenue. I had a meteoric rise through the ranks (because only about 15 people worked there) from office junior to ‘Distribution Manager’ (sounds grand doesn’t it?).

What it meant was that I had to hire / fire and generally pander to all the little scrote-bucket delivery boys & girls and give ‘em a kicking when I found a pile of newspapers chucked in a hedge somewhere by some lazy little fuckflange. I always kind of sympathised because they were being paid about 1.5p per newspaper delivered. Poor little arse-spanners.

But then there were the ‘trouble-shooters’. These brave souls would deliver where nobody else would go and do anything to get the rag to the unsuspecting public. For their trouble they were spunked a whopping 3.5p per paper (I’ll leave it a second for you all to get up from the floor) and a few pence per mile. These people delivered thousands of papers…and ended up getting paid quite a bit.

My job was actually alright; but then my boss (and owner of the newspaper, whom I respected) was run out of business in a take-over by some twat-scratchers. I pretty much lost my 'motivation' for the company from that point on.

One time (not at bandcamp) I accidentally ordered 10000 more copies than was required. My new boss fired an egg roll out of his arse, and ordered me to get additional delivery gits: troubleshooters, boys, girls, dogs, cats, anything as long as the papers were delivered. Within three days. His theory was that he could then proudly announce an increase in the circulation, get additional advertising revenue and everybody would be happy. What a positive-thinking turdsqueak.

Thus my plan was born.

I invented some ‘troubleshooters’ (whose addresses just so happened to be mate’s houses) and arranged for the 10000 papers to be split up and dropped off at their shagpads. After the drops, I went round, collected them all, took them to the recycling place and collected payment. I also made sure that each ‘troubleshooter’ was paid at top rate and paid a petrol allowance, which I then promptly collected.

Everyone was happy – especially me. So I continued and on top of my £7K salary, pocketed approx 21K in a year which I spent on hard-up uni-friends, band equipment and taking girls out for expensive meals and the like.

It was known in my social circle as simply ‘The Result’

But here’s the best part – due to the ‘increase in circulation’, my job then became going out in fancy company cars ‘house-checking’ that the papers were being delivered! – or in other words, going to the pub and getting back at 5pm saying, “Yup, those trouble-shooters are doing a tip top job (hic)”

I wasn’t sacked, but I’m sure you all agree, I fucking well should have been.

Unsurprisingly, (pun warning) the paper folded. Funny that. I was made redundant and got a crappy pay-off but couldn’t really complain. I was one of the last to go!

I did feel a bit bad and responsible about the whole thing until I found out that every rumpscuttle in the place had scams going… like the girl I was kind of seeing at the time making sure that she won every single competition, and the sales girls who gave free ads in a ‘barter system’.

I hope this doesn’t lead to any ‘copycat’ scams being born. This stuff is wrong, kids (but funny if you don’t get caught)

Apologies for length..but hey, you should be used to it by now.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 10 Aug 2007, 13:24, Reply)