Car Park Challenge...
OK then, you asked for it.

This one was dreamed up by a couple of colleagues and myself in the days when I (occasionally) worked in Liverpool. The rules go like this:

1) Drive into a large (the taller the better) multi-storey car park.

2) Park on the very top level, and go off and do your shopping/work/whatever else people do in Liverpool.

3) Return to your car and drive to the very top of the first ramp.

4) Take your car out of gear.

The object of the game is to see if you can make it all the way back to the bottom without using the engine.

Sounds simple, I know... but you have to make sure you get enough momentum going from one ramp to take you to the start of the next one. The feeling you get when the car is just slowing to a halt as you reach the next ramp and then starts moving again is unbeatable!

There are different 'grades' of car park too. Ones with a big spiral ramp would be a '0', because they're piss-easy. The further apart the ramps are the higher the grade. This game even used to have it's own theme tune. It was some cheesy 60's library music I found on an old CD, can't for the life of me remember what it was called though.

On a serious note, some people have been known to turn their engine off. This is NOT a good idea as, depending on your car, you may lose your power steering and brake servo.

Now, you might be sitting there thinking "What a load of childish bollocks", and you'd be right. However, I bet you £20 and a packet of Jaffa Cakes the next time you're in a big car park, you *are* going to try it!
(mellotron never could get the hang of Thursdays, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 12:25, 26 replies)

Action Man
Is he the greatest hero of them all?

Turns out Action Man is in fact a bit of a fanny and any one of the Wacky Racers could probably have him.

It did take us three twelve hour shifts of trudging up and down aisles, in a warehouse full of plastic signet rings and other assorted high street jewellers crap, to come to a conclusion on that particular conundrum.

At my current place of work the skives are much more of a challenge. Who can get a an empty water cooler bottle to go the highest when attached to an airline, who can learn to ride a unicycle, who can learn to juggle fire clubs etc.

I don't work in a circus. Well, there aren't any elephants and my office isn't in a big stripey tent but to all intents and purposes...
(Mr_Wendel, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 12:25, Reply)

Picking on overweight children.
As one of the only people at my last workplace who came in by car I used to do the works chip run. I always was happy to volunteer for this task as I got 'paid' in a free can of coke, at least thats what I let my coworkers assume why I did this.

The real reason for my eagerness to get chips for everyone was that there was a school nearby to work. To get from work/school to get to the chippy you had to go along a long straight stretch of road that was about a mile long. At lunchtimes there would be a long line of children, often in heavy backpacks dashing along this road trying to find the time to buy chips and get back before their lunch was over.

Leading the charge was always a group of overweight kids sweating in the summer sun waddling with all their might to get to the chippy. The highlight of my day was to turn my radio up all the way and wind wind my windows down. Casually waving at these child obesity statistics as I cruised on by.

That wasn't the best part though, I would time my speed along the road so I could pull up and get in the chip shop just before the first children arrived. Then as the first kids would burst through the door I would nonchalantly present my order for everyone at work, tying up the staff and keeping the kids impatiently waiting for up to 15 mins.

This would happen every day for weeks, until the start of the school summer holidays.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 12:12, 5 replies)

paid to poop
I go and have a nice long poo. Go in there, most of the time with my mobile phone, and sit there and read e-books or play games or sms people. This way I get to multitask doing things I enjoy, as well as get paid to take a dump!
(brotagaia, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 12:00, Reply)

Clinically fed up
In relation to earlier posts, in which I mentioned livening up the day by doing class A's I thought I should explain why it got that bad.

I should point out it was a 45K+ job, in a very nice office, in a technical environment with lots of nice clever people who i didnt really know. I'd worked in the southern office for years but transferred to the northern one when I moved house.

I looked after some pretty serious shit. We ran a system for various telco's that made them a lot of money. To those who understand these things, we usually exceeded 5 9's availability. In the 0.001% of downtime or less, we lost a lot of money for the client, so we bought some serious kit.

And unlike a lot of IT systems, it was bleddy good. And it never went wrong. In fact, I had nothing to do. The management believed that it was fantastically complex (it must do, it cost a million quid to implement) but in reality it was 3 very high end servers and one application. It just worked.

I worked with Spotty and Fatty. My desk was in a corner, in the middle of the office. That is, an artifical corner formed by 2 large grey partitions. We formed an island in the room.

One day, something was bothering me on the way home. I realised, that for the first time ever, my phone had not rung once. Also, I had not recieved ONE work related email.

I had found the perfect job.

The next day, I paid attention closely. Not one call. Not one work email.

This continued for 5 days. My mind started playing tricks. I decided that next week, I was going to do something else.

On monday, I decided that I would do nothing for one hour. I would sit still. It was frighteningly difficult.

After about 2 weeks of this, and almost 4 weeks of doing nothing, I could sit still for an entire morning, and not touch keyboard, pen, phone, anything.

My only respite was the toilets, I perfected going in with a nice big coat on. I used it as a pillow. I once slept for 2.5 hours and woke up in pitch black, as the lights had timed out.

On the way home one day, I realised something was wrong. I was going mad. Or at least I thought I might be. I realise you cant *know* you're mad. But I was defintitely a bit a mental. In retrospect, I was becoming depressed I think. Alan Partridge would call it "clinically fed-up". I was so bored, it was actually making me ill.

I decided to introduce my weekend habit to the workplace. ie taking coke to the office, stashing it and using it throughout the day. I did this for about a month.

My job came up for interview in one of those "lets all interview for our own jobs" things. Not once person applied for mine. Except me. I did the interview off my tits and god knows how they didnt spot me jabbering on endlessly, sweating, twitching, chewing the non existant chewy,drumming fingers, talking about football for 5 minutes.

I got the job. Which sucked, because i already had it, and it was shit.

I handed my notice in. Worked a week and phoned in sick for three. I stopped doing drugs and have never touched them since. (Ok thats a small lie but not very often).

Dont go mental kids, its not that great.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 11:32, 5 replies)

hmm
When I'm bored at work I usually just stare at the wall. and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to have radiation poisoning. and sometimes i contemplate whether a starving african would appreciate a glass of fresh orange juice, or if they'd find it a bit tart. if the phone rings I continue staring at the wall, as if I'm on a train looking out of the window trying to avoid being noticed by the conductor (which, by the way, is an outdated tactic. try confidently smiling at the conductor, this has worked for the past 2 weeks. I have a good "ticket face"). Then I check my email again, as someone may have emailed me since 4 minutes ago and its worth a look
( valoukh newsgash.wordpress.com, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 11:10, Reply)

Smoking.
I quit this lovely horrible habit last year and, other than the occasional drunken slip up and some festive indulgence during December, I've found giving up to be quite easy.

I do miss the opportunities it gave for time wasting, however. This is an extreme version, but it demonstrates just how much time I could waste with a single smoke:

Step One: email a few people to see if they fancied a cigarette.

Step Two: Spend as long as possible creating The World's Finest Rolley.

Step Three: Spend about 10 minutes engaged in puerile banter with those I emailed in step one, before arranging to meet downstairs in about 15 minutes time.

Step Four: Meander through the office, talking to people along the way and inviting any smokers I happen to pass to join me for a cigarette.

Step Five: Make my way downstairs, eschewing the lift in favour of a slower and more healthy descent via the stairs.

Step Six: Enjoy the masterpiece I gently crafted in step two. Depending on how warm it is, and how many people were already downstairs, this could last up to half an hour.

Step Seven: Eschew the stairs in favour of a quicker and less energetic ascent via the lift; I don't want to wear myself out, what with all the work I have to do.

Step Eight: Since I'm passing, I should really avail myself of the facilities; it's a far more efficient use of my time, and I'm sure I probably need a shit by now.

Step Nine: Stop for an impromptu meeting on route back to my desk to discuss that really important thing that I really need to discuss with that person I don't actually work with in any capacity but somehow seem to speak to quite a lot anyway... ahem.

If done properly that's over an hour wasted and no questions asked. No wonder non-smokers complain about not getting an equivalent... it's almost enough to make me want to start again.
( Moey, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 11:02, 11 replies)

Breasts of Doom!!!
I would love to say I photoshopped stuff or found ways to look at porn at work, but I'm as technically minded as your average ewok, so I'll tell you about the day I lost The Game.

The Game was pretty straightforward - I used to work in an office where I had the honour, neigh, the privilage of selling people mortgages over the phone.

Most of the time was sent sitting round, drinking coffee and talking complete and utter bollocks with my work colleages, so when the occasional phone call came through it was a pretty momentous event.

The Game was basically to try and put off whoever was doing the mortgage selling drivel so they would have to terminate the call.

I was pretty much unflappable.

One time while I was going through the motions with some moron over the phone, my good mate Dave sneaked up behind me, and with the sort of speed of hand that Bruce Lee would've been proud of, squirted lighter fluid across my desk and set fire to it. I didn't even flinch. Just lifted the phone off the desk, continued the call, and waited for the flames to die down.

Another time Sooty and Sweep appeared from behind my monitor and Sooty started to anally rape Sweep (accompanied by incredibly realistic sound effects, including squelching). Still, I didn't as much as blink... I was the iceman.

This really pissed Dave off, because whenever he was on a call all I'd have to do is write something like: 'Cunty-Fuck-Face!!!' on a piece of paper with a board marker and dance round in front of him for a bit until he cracked, started laughing, and had to terminate the call.

At the end of the average week I was winning The Game hands down.

That was until the office junior, Adele, decided to get involved.

Now, Adele was a pretty girl. Very reserved. Just finished her A-Levels and usually kept herself to herself. We'd go for the occasional works drinks and every so often she'd ask for my help to get some rabbid teenager to leave her alone - the usual sort of thing.

So when she sidled up to my desk and said: 'Spanky, I guarentee you will lose The Game today.'

I replied, using my razor sharp wit and mastery of the English language: 'Like fuck I will!'

It was later that day that I finally lost The Game...

Phone rings, I answer, start going through the usual tedious shit. Dave appears and stands at my side, starts slapping me round the head a bit. Ahh, Dave - you'll have to do better than that.

Then Adele homes into view and stands right infront of my desk, a strange look of whimsey on her angelic face. Dave too is a little perplexed - I can tell because he's momentarily stopped swatting me round the back of the head.

I continue the call, talking about god-knows-what to this annoying fucker who's interrupted my eigth coffee break of the day.

Suddenly, Adele reaches down and pulls up her sweater and bra and jiggles the most impressively large AND pert breasts I have ever seen in my life a few feet from my eyes. They were like two lovely pink planets colliding, two orbs of perfection dancing in perfect harmony, they appeared to leap out and fill the whole room. I think Adele's bra had some sort of weird Tardis effect going on, because I had never really noticed her comely (or should that be cumly) assets before. After a moment, Adele covered herself, turned on a heel, and sauntered off to continue doing her filing.

And I... forgot... how... to... speak...

Bugger!!!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 10:14, 19 replies)

Focussed Cheese Hunters
My first job was when I was 15 working as a dish washer in a local pub kitchen. It was difficult work I suppose as the pub didn’t have a machine dishwasher so absolutely everything had to be done by hand but it gave me some cash in my pocket and and respect from my dad.

Working in that rural Welsh pub certainly gave me an insight into how the world worked. Also, it made me realise that I should never under any circumstances eat at a rural Welsh pub. My eyes have witnessed things. To quote Roy Batty from Bladerunner:

``I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I've watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
Time to die...''

A great quote, but if you replace “Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion” with “indiscriminately mash cockroaches up with three day old mash potato and serve” and “C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate” with “sweating forty year old menstruating female cook removing sanitary napkin in the corner of the kitchen, replacing, lob said used item into the bin, then going on to make ramekins of crème brulee without washing hands” then it far more accurately describes where I used to work.

Anyway, this is about distractions. We used to open at 5:30pm and it never got busy until about 7pm, and then it tailed off at about 10pm. As we were mostly all there from 5pm to midnight this afforded us a lot of spare time.

So we used to play a game involving processed cheese slices. The nastiest cheapest kind available that came in packs of a hundred and basically contained only hormones and a patented chemical cheese smell. This also used to make it extremely sticky. We all tooled up by placing slices of cheese in each hand and then going up behind someone and mashing the cheese into their faces. Tension was always high in the kitchen. The waiters and waitresses used to come in and sidle along the side of the walls to come and collect the plated food as they didn’t have any access to the raw ammunition. People used to pop through the serving hatch set in the wall unexpectedly cheesed up and smeared them right in the mush.

A waiter got revenge by removing a slice of cheese from an outgoing cyst burger and forcing it into the ear of a passing cook. Oh how we laughed. Then we narrowed our eyes to become focussed predatory cheese hunters again.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 10:04, 4 replies)

Urban terror
I should know better.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 9:56, 3 replies)

car dealers are in fact twats
well upon moving town to be with the lovely Mrs Jimocles (she will be feb 28th) to a rather small city in the antiopodeans I've ended up working for a car manufacturer looking after all the car dealers for our particular make. And everything you have heard about car dealers is spot on, and these are new car dealers whom are supposedly less predatory than used car dealers....are they fuck!!!!

Anywho what little work I do involves these fuckers who I despise, which ensures two things A. it gets done slowly and B. it gets done badly if at all.

My supposed boss is too cowardly to call me up on it. and my collegue who thinks he's my boss is an ex car dealer so I'm sure you can imagine how much I care about his opinion. Or his workplace bullying or complete inability to spell the simplest of words. When the fool asked me what "plateau" meant (in the context sales have plateaued) my reports have become literary masterpieces, why use a 3 letter word when 4 x 15 letter words will do.


sorry I'm just venting now
( Jimocles I post therefore it is, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 9:47, 2 replies)

I 'shop members of staff
I get a member of staff's face from a newsletter (or works do function) and abuse it on about 40/50 pics, then move on.

I've almost had one disciplinary in me current job for this (after an accusation of bullying). My argument to the manager at the time was "Get me the head of someone else and I'll 'shop them too. I've only got his head on a jpeg." I could tell the disciplinary was going well as the manager kept looking at the e-mail I sent to this person's team of him on the Catchphrase quiz screen being humped by Mr Chips and pissing herself laughing. Ah, Mr Chips, what can't he do?

If one member of staff pisses me off a bit, I do kinda go off on a tangent unfortunately.

homepage.ntlworld.com/jeccysden/m

Ah well, keeps me busy.

Oh, and I made DO IT WOMAN in work. Oops.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 8:24, 9 replies)

Super Troopers
If anyone has seen the film Super Troopers they will be familiar with the Meow game. If you havnt let me explain .

Basically it involves inserting the word Meow into a conversation as many times as possible whilst keeping a straight face . The idea is that the victim cant quite believe what is being said.

EG " Well sir you were speeding , this is a 50 zone and Meow i clocked you doing 65"

My brother is a Radiographer his personal and department best with a Friday night drunk in A & E is 14 Meows.
(welgar, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 6:12, 6 replies)

Every little helps...
I was a checkout monkey during college. I felt my soul ebbing away with every monotonous beep.

My friends and I made a game known as Pleasure, Laughs Unlimited which involved the P.L.U. (fruit and veg) list and a top-trumps style heirarchy of obscure fruits and vegetables. When one was shouted, the first monkey to reel-off the P.L.U. number won!

Like I said, endless joy. I think I've managed to re-grow most of my soul in the 7 years since I left.

Sincerely,
(Chairman Lmao Something something your mum, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 5:55, 1 reply)

BWS
Once upon a time and all that, when I was at Uni I worked for a major UK supermarket, starts in S, ends in ainsbury's, you know the one.

I was in the bws dept and a lot of the time, as a result of the high-value nature of the stock on my aisle(s) and the poor layout of the area, I spent many an evening chasing drug addicts down the street to take back the latest bottle of Jack Daniels or Aftershock they'd stolen. It was a hell of a lot more fun than stocking shelves to be honest.

Because of the frequency of attempts the store security guard spent most of time on the aisle as well, and fuck me there's some spazzie working for that company. One in particular was my favourite, and it was the only time I actually relished going to work because he was such a trumpet. He looked like a chimp, with the forehead jutting over his eyes, he slouched, smelled funny but man he made me laugh. He was thick as shite.

My favourite chat between us went like this (circa summer 2003):

Him: "if you could have any car in the world, any car at all, what would it be?"

Me: "hmmm, good question. probably a toss up between a classic 60's Ford Mustang or maybes a Lamborghini Countach. Ferrari Enzo maybe? What about you.

Him (without hesitation): "Renault Espace. Definitely"

Me: "pffft. what??? of ALL the cars in the world, you'd pick a Renault Espace? WHY???"

Him: "easy. 7 seats."

Me: "..."

Bless.
(Zutroy started without you, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 4:39, 4 replies)

Paint Re-Mixer
Waaaay back I used to work for B&Q. The store I worked at underwent a huge refurbishment project which meant loads of night work, which paid a lot more than day work so being cash-strapped, I worked as much as possible. It was a lot more fun without having to worry about customers too.

After a couple of months, the project was almost over. To celebrate our achievement, my duty manager bought loads of drinks and snacks to share. I was 16 at the time and it's fair to say I wasn't all that good at handling alcohol.

Daylight broke as we finished the final shift, the booze was breached and I rapidly got shit-faced (as did a few of my co-workers). By the time 7:30am rolled around, we were all singing in the aisles and me and a mate were racing the pallet trucks and generally having a grand time.

In a moment of drunken inspiration as I whizzed through the hand tools aisle, I picked up a basket and filled it up with spanners, screwdrivers, hammers etc. Right to the brim. I took it over to the paint aisle and began loading up my favourite machine.

Just as my colleagues were reaching the crescendo of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' I hit the go button on the paint mixer.

It was like being inside a machine gun. I nearly went deaf. I doubt it could have been any louder if Brian Blessed had tried to shout down Concorde's engines. I didn't enjoy washing and restacking all the dented tools afterwards either.
( chart cat has an itch, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 4:33, 4 replies)

Top trumps
Dave-o, Stupot and myself needed a creative outlet at work for our many talents. We'd played Brain of Britain to the Nth degree (always shit at it), gone hours on the Chopper.swf application (fucking HOURS) but it eventually came to the point where we needed something new.

We settled upon top trumps. Except we made these beauties up. And they consisted of us rating all our co-workers. Looking back, it was a rather silly thing to do, but seemed to make sense at the time.

Categories included: Fuckability, looks, sense of humour, smoking skills, and general work ability.

Our boss eventually found them. Being the lowest card, he wasn't all that impressed.
(IckleWickleStickleIckle, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 4:24, 1 reply)

I Fucking Hate HR
.
One place I worked I introduced a new system for rewarding and punishing the support people on the IT helplines. It was the star and the dunces hat.

If you did something particularly well - handled a difficult call, diagnosed and fixed a weird problem and stuff like that - then you were given the Sheriff's Star to wear. A big gaudy plastic thing that let all your co-workers know that you were top-dog for the day. And, as Sheriff, you didn't have to make the tea.

Conversely, if you did something really dumb then you had to wear a big conical Dunces Hat with a big D on it.

It was harmless fun and passed the time. Nobody was immune and even the boss had to wear the dunces hat a few times.

But it had to end. HR got wind of it and I was hauled across the coals, yet again, this time for bullying in the workplace. You see, making someone wear the Dunces Hat impinged on their dignity at work. It could damage their self-esteem and leave the company open to charges of harassment. They completely ignored the fact that it was a fun thing, a way of bonding with the team. They also ignored the fact that nobody had complained.

Humorless twats.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 3:48, 7 replies)

Blade Bingo
crackhouseceilidhband's post reminded me of something we used to do at work:

One of my postings mentioned the use of 'bleeding edge' equipment. All good fun when it works, but it's often riddled with bugs and glitches.

My employer was an early adopter of new technology, especially motherfucking blade servers. Blade servers generate enormous amounts of heat, which, if not properly cooled leads to hardware failure. We installed thousands of the power-hungry bastards, all installed by the book. Despite following the instructions, we had so many problems in the early days it became a running joke when completing our morning checks, as dozens would have failed overnight.

Our repeated calls to the vendor begging for a fix seemed to be going nowhere. Logging so many individual failures was unbelievably tedious, so to pass the time, bingo sheets containing the system serial numbers were produced to motivate the jaded support staff and inject a little competition into this thankless task.

One particularly bad day, a sales rep from our vendor's main competitor was in the office and was walking past my desk just as I leapt up to shout "HOUSE!" before running over to my manager's desk to claim my prize (a fun-size Mars Bar, no expense was spared). Intrigued, she asked me what the fuck I was playing at. Sensing a golden opportunity to rock the boat, I explained and gave her a copy of the "blade bingo" sheet which she took back to her firm's UK headquarters.

From there it took on a life of its own. The bingo sheet was passed around the offices of the rival company, picking up derisory comments as it went. It ended up being forwarded on to someone working for our vendor where, after being emailed around some more, it made its way finally to the blade server product manager's desk. A friend who works for this firm told me that the manager was so ashamed about the problems with his flagship product that he made it the headline item in the company newsletter three months running. Escalation meetings were held, our global technology manager and several of my colleagues were invited to fly out to New York at considerable expense to discuss the problem. It became something of an embarrasment within the IT industry and probably cost our vendor a shitload of business, which serves them right.

They eventually fixed the reliability problems and gave us a 75% discount on the next batch of hardware purchases as compensation. Yay for blade bingo, yay for subversive vendor manipulation tactics!
( chart cat has an itch, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 3:35, 7 replies)

ketamine.

(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Fri 9 Jan 2009, 2:50, 2 replies)

Late Night Exploring
You think you've got the ultimate workplace dossing-around solutions? You don't know the half of it!

Working, as I do, for a large media company (name? come on, I'm not *that* stupid) gives opportunities the average office-monkey can only dream of. I'm in the prefect position of working shifts, which means I'm around in the middle of the night. The security are mostly arthritic and over 40, so we've pretty much got the run of the place.

You can sneak around the sets of a well-known soap opera, trying to slip small items into visible positions and then see them on TV (sadly, it's more difficult than you think... they take polaroids of everything to make sure!).

You can take some of your colleagues down to wardrobe and see what fits you (the time we found a sodding great box of school uniforms was great - who can beat an evening of St. Trinians style transvestism?)

Using sound studios for wind-up calls is good too. These range in subtlety from using the odd sound effect CD to make your housemate think the living room has been invaded by sheep, right through to using voice-changing gizmos to ring your mother and pretend to be a Dalek. (In case any anoraks are wondering, the secret is to use a ring modulator at 20hz, and then shout down it).

Then there's the brilliance that is the annual Christmas Tape. For those that don't know, these are a broadcasting tradition that go back years. They're the forerunner of programmes like "It'll be Alright on the Night" and "Auntie's Bloomers", a nice collection of the year's cock ups edited together with plenty of spoofs and thoroughly non-PC humour. If you want a good feel for how fantastic some of these can be (featuring stuff they'd never, in a million years, allow on air) do a You Tube search for "Good King Memorex" or "White Powder Christmas".

There's many more, some I *really* can't speak of (in order to protect the guilty) and some which I would type-up if I wasn't too tired at the moment (like the fun we used to have in the good old days of tin-pot local radio, and the magnificence that is "Car Park Challenge")

Click 'I Like This' if you think I should bother.

Edit - OK, OK... you win... new post on the way!
(mellotron never could get the hang of Thursdays, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 0:55, 8 replies)

I need things to do or else...
I used to work in a slaughter house for deer and have posted a vid of what i got up to in the links not so long ago but other mischief we used to do was.

-the shooter would let out a live deer and we would see how long it would take to catch it.
-cut various parts of the deer out/off and scare the lady packers.
-invent dares for workmates like "how far can you stick your head in the tub of warm wet fat, bet you cant eat this, chunk of fat,blood clot etc
there are more but none forthcoming at the moment.
( jakedamusss I understand, and dont care., Fri 9 Jan 2009, 0:55, Reply)

well... it's been a while since being in a real work place...
Back in the day's when I had a real life boss I would rarely find myself without a task or 14 at hand.

So my time really was spent doing my job, it was however on a frequent enough basis that I would arrive with a hangover and didn't much fancy working...

Being in a position of responsibility allowed me to choose when what and why I did what ever it was I was supposed to do...

Of course I invented games, we had a large warehouse much fun was had on skate boards, pump trucks generally loafing...

But my favourite boredom activity was to basically disappear - I would get bored, go for a cigarette, and simply go for a walk, maybe just to the shops, maybe around the block - maybe just to the random other units on the estate...

and once - all the way home... no one questioned me, no one noticed and to put it bluntly - I think it was one of my most productive days!

Oh I used to get bored and spend hours on the phone - just randomly chatting to suppliers and customers, didn't need to speak to them, sometimes didnt want to speak to them, but it makes you look busy and it allowed me to chum up to them and when I left I was able to use all of their services for really good rates... woo go me...

this was supposed to be funny, but I guess I jsut actually like working, and hmmm wandering off!
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 0:52, Reply)

I just marvel at the twunts I deal with
I work at a large comprehensive school somewhere and although I have no chance to do cool stuff to make the desperate hours go by - no internet access allowed, I do get the chance to work with kids - some of the biggest twunt-mongers around. Today was a case in point, I refused to let a pupil - aged around sixteen to go to the toilet - she was time-wasting as one does at that age and the school rule is that noone is permitted to be excused unless they have a medical problem - just following orders, me. This mouth-breathing boot then calls her dad - in class - to tell him of this heinous disregard for her human rights and he instructs her to leave straight away. She then is sent to the head of department who tells her to hand over her phone, whereupon she refuses but again phones her dad to make sure he's on his way to take his li'l princess out of Guantanamo High.
Apparently we're in the business of training them for Real Life (tm). I don't think so.
So with such twat-maggotry abounding, its no wonder I need nothing else to make my working hours pass by.
I weep for the future.
(resurrection_mary cannibal_ferox, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 0:29, 12 replies)

Straight face olympics. now with 300% more Pr0n !
Back at the same dump I worked at where we would pass the time by throwing magnets at each others heads*. We would try and think up new uses for the shear volume of pornography that came our way. Your average paper bank holds about 8tons of paper, 1/4 of this is grumble so we had 2 tons of one handed magazines to pass the time with.


At first we just played pr0n top trumps. A simple enough game two people open a gluebook to a random page, the most hardcore picture wins, loser makes the tea.

The discovery of some grainy blue videos upped the anti though. I came back from the weekend to find that there was now a straight face Olympics going on. At the enterence to the site there was a portacabin than counted as the works office. Part of the job was to lean out of the window and explain to people on the way in what rubbish whent where.

A TV/VCR combo had been placed just below the windowledge, loaded up with grot and muted. The challenge, keep a straight face while talking to the public.

sounds easy? well you try talking to a old lady about council recycling policy whilst simultaneously be watching an interracial threesome.

The straight faced Olympics closing ceremony was a moving occasion. The head office sent a manager to remove the TV and a draw was declared.





*only to watch them vear off at the last moment and stick to a metal thing.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 0:20, 5 replies)