Stop the line, it's gonna fall off!
I was a student and trying to find a legitimate way of earning money while back home for the summer. I hit on working in a chicken factory along with my mates Luke and Darren.

To begin with this was ok; the line I was on was Southern Fried Chicken - it was warm, dry and easy.

Then things went wrong. The line broke down and we were dispatched to do the menial tasks. Luke, and I had fun; we had a water fight with high pressure hoses, pissed about with blowtorches, did the jobs and went back to the line. It was still broken. People were wandering off at random for breaks but didn't tell us and by this time the warmth was becoming stifling, and we were becoming less and less comfortable. When the permenant staff came back, they started to laugh at us.

Naturally, my response was to say "You call us wankers, but you're middle aged, work in a chicken factory and earn £200 a week. Who's that wanker again?" The arrogance of youth naturally went down like a lead ballon with these hardened chicken fanciers.

The line cranked back into action at about 11, and we began to work; Luke and I adjacent to one another breading the chicken and Darren on a different line doing something equally thrilling.

As time went on we got more and more abuse for being middle class and we reached our limit. We turned round and walked off the line, pausing only to collect Darren. As we went down the corridor we heard shouts of outrage and we legged it. We reached the safety of the locker room and as we clambered into our street clothes we were interrupted by a large sweaty line worker asking if "we were the cunts that had just fucked off and left line F?"

We were, but denied it and wiped our brows as we heard him threatening all sorts of retribution. Walking out of the factory we high fived one another, cheering, before realising we were ten miles from home and hadn't enough money to get home. The agency bus was obviously a no go, so we walked it.

The agency were very unhappy with us. It seems that there was a lot of chicken lost over the end of the line and in the scramble to find us the employees attention wandered somewhat and a lot more chicken went into the industrial oven than was meant to. They lost 6 hours production and also an awful lot of chickens.

Naturally, the agency fired us. Although to be honest we had already cost them a contract at a Bootiful Turkey place and at a Strawberry Picking place.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Tue 14 Aug 2007, 16:19, Reply)