I once worked in a factory
Stories of times gone by and sexual conquests were the order of the day to pass the time. None more so than those from our Indonesian friend called John. He has quite mad and not in a "he's a nutter...lol" kinda way, he was literally quite mad. Barking actually. He would stand rooted to the spot and give all the managers the staunchest most rigid salute when you walked past. I being of senior position in the company in his eyes (possibly as I was white and spoke decent English) always received the full attention of his arm on passing by. This in itself was amusing, but was a tad embarrassing when we were taking customers round the plant or happened to walk past him at the bus stop on the high street and he'd salute and shout "Yes SIR!!" at the top of his voice.

He was, as I was informed by his sister and brother in-law who also worked at the company a commander in the army over in Indonesia. Part of his job had entailed flushing out villages and raising them to the ground. Consequently he had a few battle scars to prove it and which he was only too happy to show us. I'd rate the knife wound in the stomach as the best. The day he came to work with bandaged hands because he'd been doing some sort of martial arts training and burned himself was also quite memorable. Any sane person would call in sick when they had burns covering virtually both hands, but not our John. He insisted on coming in and refused to be given easier work. He even came to work with a broken arm once only to be sent home. He then came in the next day saying he was sick of his wife and couldn't spend any more time at home and demanded to come back to work. He then came in every day for at least a few hours, unpaid, and just hung about and swept up. As I said...Barking!

The delights of working in an air conditioned office pale into insignificance when shown in contrast to the sheer lunacy that happens day in and day out in a factory. Catching one of the storesmen wanking in an obscure back room for the second time in 2 months provided a good mornings entertainment. The stories from the 8 fingered maintenance technician reminding us not to stick our hands into moving machinery were always warmly received by the newcomers. The fact this place used to be a munitions factory in WW2 was also noteworthy as the remnants of the casting pit and 20 Ton crane were still clearly visible.

Suffice to say there was never a dull day in the factory. I am now firmly ensconced in the cocoon environment of this namby pampy world of the 9 - 5. Carpets, A/C, working coffee machines and people who are pretentiously false and nice to eachother are now part of my daily routine. These are things that did not and will never exist in my past life. I miss it a bit sometimes.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 8 Jan 2009, 14:32, 1 reply)

You can't raise a village to the ground
Unless it's an underground village, I suppose.

I believe the word you were groping for is RAZING.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Thu 8 Jan 2009, 15:31, closed)