Threshers bingo
Working at an off license you get to meet rather odd clientelle, most of which are regulars. Drunks, wierdos, freaks, angry old folk and so forth.

Before the management decided to save money by single manning the shops (thus resulting in a 7 fold rise in robbery and shoplifting and most of the workforce leaving) they used to put two members of staff on in the evenings which was usually a good laugh.

Threshers Bingo was a game we made up where you would get points for correctly predicting which regular would enter the shop at what time, and what exactly would they order. (double points on giro/pension day where they would treat themselves to an extra 100 fags or a cheeky bottle of scotch for the road!). The loser of Threshers Bingo gets the first post-shift round in.

So it went thusly

6.15pm - Stressed office manager: half bottle of Bells or Teachers depending on what was on offer. Famous Grouse at Christmas.

7.30pm: Grumpy old sod that smelled of cabbage. 1x Bottle of Bolls Apricot Brandy

7.32pm: Clearly 12 year old girl attempting to buy 10 soverign lights and 3 packs of chewing gum to hide her fag breath from her parents (we always refused her but she'd always get her fags from somewhere else)

7.55pm - Wine snob on a budget buying a bottle of Blossom Hill red but demanding it wrapped to hide the label from fellow customers

8.45pm: Staff from nearby prison: 8x Guinness, bottle of Olde Engish Cider and 4 cans of Mackinson Stout

and so forth.

One night however I was working when my mate noticed that a notorious woman with a history of domestic violence (she had glassed her husband in the adjacent pub a week earlier) and a problem with gambling had come into the shop. Just before she reached the counter, he whispered into my ear:

"8 cans of Labbatts, 200 scratchcards and a smack in the face"

Cue me trying desperately not to burst out laughing as I served her - the bastard.
( h3donist tryin' to play me out as if my name is Sega.., Sun 11 Jan 2009, 21:14, 1 reply)

Browsing the printer server cache
to see what people have been printing at lunchtimes.

The other day we got a lovely nudey picture, obviously someone's girlfriend, that they'd sent to the colour printer. Result!
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 20:33, 5 replies)

I try and start arguments on the internet
but I'm not very good at it, you lovely people. Damn.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 17:33, 7 replies)

How do I fill those long, empty desperate hours?
With Lies!
(FurtiveBiscuit, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 17:01, 1 reply)

Sending abusive text messages to my mates office landline
so you get a fake voice going:

"Mark, you are an ugly, smelly wanker"
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 16:56, 3 replies)

Workplace wanking
A while ago, my girlfriend emailed me a lovely nudey picture of herself. So I printed it off on the colour lazer and went down to the server room for a wank.

It made for a nice afternoon actually. I was far less stressed out. I think it should be company policy that all guys and girls have sex during lunchtime.
(Miggyman, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 16:51, 2 replies)

boobs, buggery and the bottom line
In the not so distant past I worked as a contactor doing analysis for various small businesses’ to gauge profitability and recommend improvements to their operational procedures to enhance the bottom line. For this work I would charge around $150 an hour and most contracts where 2 to 4 weeks in length.

One contact saw me working with the business owner’s 21 year old daughter (she was quite a good sort). It took about 20 minutes to figure out the business was fairly well fucked, and why the owner couldn’t see that spending $2 for every $1.50 earned was not a good recipe is still a bit of a mystery.

As such I reckoned it would take 2 days to finish the recommendation report if I typed slowly. His daughter took a bit a shine to me which became apparent when she engaged me in a lengthy conversation about the downside of sleeping with virgin boys before lunch on the first day.

Her old man would leave for the day around 2.30 most afternoons, and on the first afternoon, within seconds of the boss leaving, his daughter told me she thought she had a lump in her breast and asked my opinion. Before I could reply she should have it checked out if it was worrying her, she whipped up her shirt and bra and presented the most magnificent and perky C sized troubled tit so that I might feel her “lump”. After a tentative feel, I declared I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary so she presented its partner to compare the difference and thus began a two week journey of covert blow jobs and frequent random kinky sex, often with her Dad in the next office, culminating in me buggering her while she took a phone order from a customer. Even better, 95% of the fun was initiated by the young lady.

Between these acts of indecency, I was giving heartfelt advice to the recently paroled warehouse worker who was infatuated with the said young lady on the best way to get her to agree to go on a date with him. (I was most definitely not letting him know what I was up to as his crazy eyes convinced me he would happily murder anyone who got in the way of him and his unspoken love).

It took every ounce of my moral fiber not to try and extend the contract for an additional week, and dutifully at the end of the second week I presented my findings and recommendations and went on my way. Unfortunately they closed the business down two months later and the opportunity for future contracts never came up.

Truly great work when you can get it.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 16:36, Reply)

teh power
after that daft bint said some blokes sperm was 'yum' i wondered just how long it would take to spread some fraudulent crap round the web

charlize theron was a hot topic at the time so i got this pic...

images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://the-deli.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/theron_0710_041.jpg&imgrefurl=http://the-deli.org/charlize-theron-upskirt/&usg=___9cYmo4811GTyiNMkTjyptcSWGw=&h=499&w=400&sz=22&hl=en&start=165&sig2=nezvUPeY6SdG3to6uAGh3g&um=1&tbnid=S2suLNniQq__CM:&tbnh=130&tbnw=104&ei=axpqSdXaA9aQmQf7mYWmBw&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcharlize%2Btheron%2Bskirt%26start%3D147%26ndsp%3D21%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26sa%3DN

and with the power of potatoshop removed her knickers and comped in a nice mimsy

i then sent it to popbitch saying my mate was a pap, he took this but the papers wouldn't print it for some legal reason bollocks

by the following day the popbitch board was buzzing with it

3 days later the mirror printed one of these versions...

the-deli.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/theron_0710_05.jpg

then over the next few months it appeared in all sorts of places

fair amused me for a while
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 16:18, 7 replies)

I play on the internet and sometimes I drink tea
www.facebook.com/group.php?sid=018ce95c406273a12b2be5575454f3ea&gid=36911168812

Mostly I troll. mostly
( The_Commander_of_Skips wears his sunglasses at night, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 15:26, 2 replies)

made my swedemason logo
during a particularly dead shift in the kitchen.


( swedemason another self-promoting cunt, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 13:06, 2 replies)

Note to Supermarket Bakery Managers
Do not allow two bored teenage boys to be the entirety of your bakery's staff from 8-11pm every Thursday night, otherwise you risk:

*Impromptu games of baseball played in the back room with a French stick and a stale roll

*Games of 'Laser Zone' using the stock-taking scanner guns - the target was the other guy's eyes, especially if he was serving a customer at the time

*The shrinkwrapping of inappropriate items in the shrinkwrapping machine

*Locking each other in the walk-in oven

*Exchanging pornography with the dodgy Nigerian night-cleaners (the manager wouldn't let any female staff on-shift with them, for reasons he never disclosed)

Still, it was better than my time in a call center.
(Axeman Jim, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 12:25, 1 reply)

In days of yore...
I used to be a freelance PC-fixer monkey.

And I made a point of having a wank in the bathroom of every house I was called out to.
( Lord Keeps meaning to procrastinate., Sun 11 Jan 2009, 9:45, 4 replies)

i'm currently unemployed
so i sit weeping as my bank balance decreases and myriad employers reject my applications.
it's fun.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 8:54, 6 replies)

drugs mostly
i was a cashier my last year before uni at a really boring little market and deli. we didn't get discounts on the food ourselves and got yelled at if we leaned against the counters or talked to each other even when there was literally nothing to do

smoking so much ganja the cash register looked like the controls on a spaceship is hardly noteworthy here, but one day i ate some psychedelic mushrooms, which made for quite a day!
some highlights included:
1)thinking some sort of disco light-show machine had been set up behind me when it was in reality just the sunlight being reflected into the store in the exact same mundane way it always was
2)the few minutes of pants shitting fear when i thought i'd worked at least an hour only to check the clock and find that no more than a minute had elapsed
3)hearing my manager talking to a fellow employee behind me in spanish and being unable to control my laughter at the sounds of the (in my altered state) exotic tongue
4) inventing a new game where i'd try to impress the customers by 'guessing' their total before i hit the button to show it - i was invariably correct down to the cent because i'd actually just read the less visible 'running total'

no one complained about my performance or noticed that i was (far more so than most days) drugged out of my skull
(chickensoupforyourface, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 7:40, Reply)

As a student I used to make extra money being a sperm donor.
If the nurses were rude I'd put a Big Mac in there.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 6:17, 3 replies)

Public service announcement
In between school and college I worked in a McDonalds - stupidly busy at peak times but very quiet in the mornings (this was before they started doing breakfasts). Anyway, there were various ways to amuse oneself during quiet times, but not one person ever wanked, gobbed, shat or deposited any other bodily fluids in any burger or other food product. Ever. Just thought I'd let you know.
(Terrible Tiger, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 1:26, 5 replies)

Assasin
As a young man I worked at a dead-end desk job with an overbearing boss, took anti-anxiety medication for panic attacks, and had a live-in girlfriend who cheats on me with my best friend. I wondered if when I was born my father looked into my eyes and saw a failure. Then without notice my life changed and I was contracted to spend the whole day driving fast cars and killing people who were marked for death by some loom. You may think this a bit far fetched, but my other friends belive in a man who lives on a shiny cloud...
(NetFile, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 1:14, 4 replies)

I work in a kitchen..
Actually, with a fairly impressively titled - if low paid - position. Being a chef in a fine-dining restaurant is like being in the army - you spend most of your time bored shitless doing mundane tasks and a small percentage of your time frantic, run off your feet, being yelled and and highly stressed out.
It's during the quiet times that plenty of fun and dangerous games have been invented to pass the time. They include:

Spraying cooking spray into your hand, lighting it on fire and throwing it at unsuspecting kitchen-hands and waitresses.

Battering and deep-frying various edible and inedible objects to see what happens. FYI, battered marshmallows are to die for, battered sugarcubes don't turn into toffee, and battered icecubes spit oil at you and cause severe burns.

Creating fireballs by heating oil in a skillet for a good 20 minutes, until you get some nice blue flames, dropping it in the sink and spraying it with water. There are clips on youtube which I can't be bothered to look up..

And recently, finding a believable excuse to be outside for a minute and then returning with a couple of snowballs to throw across the kitchen.

Also, regular 'safety meetings' which usually involve going outside for a smoke or sneaking tequilla shots from the bar.
(r0ach, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 1:02, 1 reply)

Hurrah for netsend :D
A few years back we had a normal Windows NT network about the office, which was every desktop with Windows NT and a Z number as an identifier for the network. I'm not the best with comps (but I'm always learning something new on them every day, have done for the last 10 years) and someone sent me an e-mail describing how to correctly do a "netsend".
For the un-technical in the audience, this is a way of sending a simple pop-up alert through DOS to make an alert pop-up on Windows with a small message of your choice and an "OK" button in the middle of it. It was like "Z******* has sent you a message. [Whatever the message] OK". Simple and sweet, but highly odd if you have never seen one before.
So I test it out with one of the guys on the team after I get his computer's Z number and we have a small laugh. After a few minutes though, I get bored and decide to up the ante a bit.
I get my manager's Z number while he's away from his desk and write it down on a notepad (they used to be on stickers on the base units). I walk back to me desk and wait a bit until my manager turns up. Up comes the DOS box and I send him the message.
"Pornography has been detected on your hard drive. A member of staff from I.T. will be with you shortly."
He went white. I could hear him swearing from my desk and could literally see the fear in his eyes. "What's this? Oh god, I'm fucked, I'm fucked..." He calls one of the other managers over who reads the message, notices the Z number tag on the message then walks around our desks as I sit there trying not to laugh. They find it on my comp and he comes over saying "You utter, utter bastard!!!" He spent the afternoon throwing rubber office stress toys at my head for the rest of the shift, but not until I set up another member of staff with the same prank for him lol.
Ah well, keeps us quiet.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 0:41, 5 replies)

I used to work in a Sandwitch Shop
This sandwitch shop was famed for the size and flavore of the sandwitches, big fuck aff doorstep sandwitches. I woodnt however have recommended the coleslaw to anyone i was fond of, On an everage day it wold contain the semen or saliva of at least 3 members of staff, on a slow run for the coleslaw where the same batch would last 3 days the sperm content must have been higher than the budget mayonnaise content contained within.
how funny to think of everyone eating nob cheese in their sandwiches, didnt need to add too much salt on those ones! hee hee hee. one time i went to the toilet for a messy guinness shit and didnt even wash my hands afterwards, was a proper wiper too, you know the one where no matter how many times you wipe there are still skids left, rubbing so hard that your fingers end up breaking through the toylet paper and caressing your choclate starfish, makes me laugh when i made sandwiches with my own faecal matter stuck behind my fingernails. when we were bored and had to go out back to use the toaster i would cough onto the sandwich before and after toasting it
(little lord muthafuckin fauntleroy, Sun 11 Jan 2009, 0:12, 22 replies)

Back in the day
When we were Generals in the Roman Army, when we got bored we would declare ourselves Emperor and march on Rome.

Good for weeks of excitement, that one. Bit of a pain in the arse if you lost, though, as they were quite keen on parading your hacked up corpse through the streets.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 23:15, 3 replies)

Down the pub
I worked in a large(ish) computer software conmpany in Glasgow. The management were so far up their own arses that me, the QA manager and the product manager used to sod off at 11.30am and sit in the pub till 5pm. We only stopped it when we started to feel bad, and I was in support :). Apparently as we left en masse nobody ever questioned us. When asked we pretrended to be pilots.
(NetFile, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 22:21, Reply)

I'm a cover teacher
And so, the only lessons I work are the ones where the usual teachers are away. Still, I have to be in from 8:30 until 3:15, so if there's no-one away, I get the chance to sit in the staffroom and drink tea.

I've got a work laptop, but sadly the teachers don't get any priviledges, and we're stuck with the same list of blocked sites as the kids. So that's no Facebook, no xkcd, certainly no b3ta (I quite like my job, thanks). I usually find myself frantically pressing refresh on bbc.co.uk, hoping for a major traffic accident or something just so I have something to read.

So I have to try and find other things to amuse myself. My current favourite is trying to do as many laps of the school as I can in ten minutes, then trying to beat the record. So far my record's six, it would be more but people keep stopping me to ask me questions.

Any other suggestions for things to do would be gratefully welcomed.
(Dizzy Steinway, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 20:25, 8 replies)

More busting, less boredom
I set the scene: way back when I was a wee little Snark, I got myself a nice little job doing computer network security. As my colleagues were all giant nerds, their personalities ranged from the odious to the evil genius. I slotted firmly into the latter and, as the only girl in the department, the nerds were in the palm of my hand.

The most odious of the lot was the boss - a wall-eyed homophobe with a penchant for Garfield. Slovenly, shouty and generally found with his hand down his trousers, I quickly became the leader in a boredom-busting scheme to make his life as miserable as he made ours.

The typical office tricks came into play - gluing his coins to his desk, taping his Garfields to the ceiling of the hallway, displaying Lady Lovelocks in a prominent position in his cubicle just before he had an important meeting with the CEO...well, that scene has been well and truly set.

He announced his departure amongst cheers of glee, but quickly our minds turned to his last day. Surely we needed to outdo ourselves, our minds were a-twirl with ideas.

The day arrived and we all got to work early - there was so much work to do! We set forth dismantling our cubicle farm and reassembling it into something truly evil and genius. We created an elaborate cubicle maze from the front door all the way to his cubicle...

...which we turned into a walled fortress, complete with a ceiling and no door. His collection of Garfields were placed on the 'roof' surrounding a clear plastic bag of dog mess.

He arrived on time, scowled at the sight of the maze, then made his way to his cubicle. At sight of it, he burst into tears and ran away from the office, never to return.

After feeling bad for long enough to form a wild guffaw, the next two days were spent putting the office back together, which was grueling and overwhelmingly boring.

We busted that boredom by periodically breaking into laughter and fashioning throwing stars out of office supplies.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 20:22, Reply)

Inventory
Last weekend was our annual end of year inventory. It is unbelieveably boring, counting out audio adapters, screen protectors and the like.
Once a product had been counted, we had to write the word "counted" on a post-it and stick it on the box.
Imagine my glee yesterday when one of the guys was taking all the post-it notes of the box and giggling like a loon because someone *whistles innocently* had written "cunted" on a number of post-its.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 20:10, 2 replies)

Things including tennis using the shop counter as the net (with real tennis balls)
basket ball...
houpla (25 foot away!) oh and this
Phil the empty box :D
(not me)
and (there is someone inside the box)
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 20:05, Reply)

I worked in a Onestop convenience store in the mid 90's...
...one of those overgrown newsagents, that sells groceries and stays open till 11pm a la tesco metro. I was earning a bit of cash to pay for a nice drug-addled thai beach holiday, whilst finishing a post-grad course. I was evening supervisor, and my god was it dull. The conversational abilities of my, mostly teenage, colleagues was...um...non-existent, and after realising that there is only so much fun you can have with the stock, I started to turn on my customers.

Not the nice ones, you'll understand, but the arrogant cocks in suits who think that the customer is always right, even in a fucking Onestop.

My tactics were varied and many. My favorite was simply saying 'Pardon?' everytime the customer spoke, and repeating their words with an imaginary speech impediment. "Thothages? pardon?.. ..ahhh sausages! Yes off course. Down the back on the left hand side next to the pork pies" "Nose-pipers?.....ah, you mean newspapers" etc

The most impressive? The fake-rejected debit card. All that is needed is a large queue, who are tired and impatient enough to be interested to know who, what and why they are being held up, all standing behind the obnoxious cockmuncher, who is about to receive a lesson in humility from your tired and harrassed narrator.

In the days before the modern electronic switch units it was all done, under the counter and away from the prying eyes of the soon to be humiliated customer.

Customer keys in number onto pad. I, after a brief pause, announce (just a little more loudly than is really necessary) that the card has been rejected. All ears in the queue pick up, customer replies tetchily that that cannot be the case. "Ok" I say "let's try again, just in case you misentered the number.... it is your card isn't it, sir?" (cue rage)

"Ok...here we go...it's...no, sorry sir, it's rejecting the transaction again sir. Are you sure you aren't overdrawn, sir?" (cue more rage)

"Obviously, the card only works if the account is in credit, sir, if you are overdrawn the bank rejects your card. Doesn't happen often here, sir, but it's always when the customer hasn't got any money left in the account" (eyes popping out on stalks by now)

"Yes, sir, even so, you'll need to check with your bank that you have some money in your account,.. no, sir I am the manager... I'm afraid I can't serve you if you can't afford to pay, sir...next customer, please"

He he he
(MrStabby, Sat 10 Jan 2009, 19:09, 1 reply)

I worked for E.ON for 6 months
I still have little idea what my job involved.
Honestly, I would go there, sit down, look at my computer until home time.

They took away our internet, so all we had was the Intranet. There was a forum kind of place on there and I would spend all day talking to people.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sat 10 Jan 2009, 18:29, Reply)

Helpdesk shennanigans
I could never understand how anyone could set a password and promptly forget it the next day.

And we had a few repeat customers who would call us up on regular basis, sometimes the day after we'd reset their password to tell us that they'd done it again.

So, I'd reset their password to one of the following:

u1plUm
1di0t
pl4Nk
tw0th34d

Of course, the more the net took off and therefore the uptake of l33t, we could get away with this less and less.

In fact, in the end we could only do it to anyone over 45, but it still made me smile when I got to do it to the elected mayor (on a regular basis).
(Kaplaaah Wasting time on the net since 1994., Sat 10 Jan 2009, 18:18, 1 reply)