New labourer starts on one of the sites I manage:
Our foreman tells him to go to B&Q down the road for some fallopian tubes. . . So off he pops and stops the first B&Q worker he finds (who happened to be a woman) and asks in a very forthright manner:

"Can you show me where your fallopian tubes are please?"
(No6, Thu 10 May 2007, 15:27, Reply)

For my first summer job I was assigned to work in the harbour office
I think I was about 14 or 15.

I thought it would be ok working in a nice, cool, office for a few months.
The first few days I did normal office work.
Made copies of documents, sorted files, got coffee for the boss.
After just a few days they were out of stuff for me to do. I tried to make myself usefull, but there just wasn't anything for me to do.
So I sat on a stool for two days looking out the window. Finally they came and said that they had found something I could do.
I was thrilled as by that time I was pretty bored.

They sent me out to pull weeds from the cracks in the cement in the harbour. They used to just burn the stuff with a cool flamethrower,
but now they weren't allowed to do that anymore, something to do with the ash from the plants being full of pollution and stuff they didn't want to
fall in the water, so I had to pull the weeds out of the cracks and put them in a bucket.
That's what I did... for three months...
from 8 in the morning to five in the afternoon during one of the hottest summers I have ever experienced.
It took me about two weeks to work my way through the entire harbour area, and after that the weeds had grown back so I had to start all over again.
It was depressing, hot, sweaty, dirty work and I hated it.

the pay?
how does about 2,18 pounds and hour sound?

No I'm not kidding...
( The little pink animal is mostly harmless, except on, Thu 10 May 2007, 15:23, Reply)

I got a job in a factory when I was 16
The factory produced video tapes in a "clean" area, and they came out into what must therefore have been the "dirty" area where all us scrotes were stationed.

My job was to pack tapes that had just been shrink-wrapped into their boxes and stick them in a crate. This would have been merely tedious except that the shrink-wrap was still fucking hot, and still tacky, so if you didn't do it at light speed your fingers got burned.

But the crowning glory, the part of the job that was really aimed at making the inmates (sorry, employees) suicidal, was that the film you were packing was played to you on continuous loop *all day*. My first day was 12 hours of Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance (aaaaargh). Day 2 was the East 17 video - I quit halfway through the day...

Apols for girth
( .o0o.o0o.o0o. that's better, Thu 10 May 2007, 15:15, Reply)

One of the More Delicate Procedures
I never did work experience myself, but I worked as an operating theatre porter for a while, and I witnessed a rather odd case of someone else's. One of the consultants brought a 15 year old boy into the theatre, apparently because this kid wanted to be a doctor (rather unorthodox, to say the least). He was dressed up in the theatre blues for hygeine's sake and seemed a mite nervous.

We wheeled a patient in, who was due for an operation on his colon. Once we'd put his legs up ready for the first bit of the op, the consultant sat the kid in a good viewing location, and exuberantly announced, "You're now going to see one of the more delicate procedures in my repertoire: the rectal stretch."

Fortunately for the kid, the patient was the recipient, but you should have seen his face. I suspect he was cured of medical ambition at that moment.
(Daxyz, Thu 10 May 2007, 15:11, Reply)

The Best Work Experience Job Ever
I wanted to be a photographer in my younger days, and therefore when the work experience brochure went around with the local businesses **eager** to have a tea boy for a week, I looked up the local photography shops.

They were all booked up.

Dejected, I asked my mum if she could pull a few strings with her photography teacher, who agreed to take me on. The school were alright with me, and sent a form to the teacher to fill in. He sent back a number of forms for me, and we were all set.

The forms I filled in were a bit odd, saying things like "have you ever been arrested for indecent exposure". I answered them all honestly (Incidentally, I haven't).

I got a phone call about 2 weeks before the week. He told me what I needed to prepare. He told it to me straight, that he has been sent an assignment for a week, that requires travel, and a hotel stay for 4 nights. "Don't worry" he said "It's all paid for by the newspaper."

Newspaper? Brilliant. We'll be on front line journalism photography.

I had a look to what it could be, and saw that "The Tour of Britain" cycling race was on the same week. We're going to take cycling photos.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Day 1, Llandudno. He lead me into a studio and said "you're job is actually to supervise this photoshoot, in case it gets out of hand. Don't worry it won't. It's just UK legislation requires 2 over 15 witnesses to every photoshoot. One man, one woman. Here's Claire, the girl who you will be working with." Claire was a late 20's girl, gorgeous, who had done it before. "Just sit there, and watch. It'll be something to tell the mates.". I was still unsure exactly what my job was, until Sarah walked in.

I reckonised Sarah, she was blonde, she was beautiful, she was stark bollock naked. This was a page 3 photoshoot that I had to supervise to make sure the photographer wasn't doing anything untoward. Sarah was actually quite intelligent "I am a student at Manchester University" she said to me, whilst I focussed on her tits.

The week was spent going around the country, taking photos of women in various states of undress. Except for Friday, where the girl (Sarah again) kept fully clothed and took pictures of her next to a BMW "So I have something to show the school". Couldn't fling open a red top to page 3.

Best work experience ever.
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:54, Reply)

pizza boy
well...i had my motorbike nicked from the back of their shop. it was found, (lucky) but not before it had been set on fire (unlucky) that was a good start.

was made to deliver in snow and sheet ice coming a cropper countless times. one memorable time the keys seperated from the scooter and were never found, catapulted into another dimension perhaps. i didn't have time to dwell on it too long as i had to push the shitting bastard bike for miles back to the shop bruised and battered. fun.

really got to know the feeling of being cold, miserable and alone with water seeping down my arse crack yet still singing a dirge to pass the time in the rain at 28.7mph.

was accused of stealing by the manager who, as it turned out, fucked off with thousands of the company's money. thanks.

unfortunately now know Tolworth very well, and you don't want to know Tolworth well at all.

ended up breaking my leg in three places on the company c90 (wow upgrade) 'avoiding a cat' though really i was getting the bastard to do wheelies because i was THAT bored. 5 weeks in hospital. go me.
(Nobody Likes Mortal Wombat, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:46, Reply)

Office junior...
Being a lazy yet mellow chap, I've never had to put with much crap when starting a new job and I never did get the chance to do any work experience anywhere (well I did, but it was at my dads work where he set me up as barman in the social club. I got to play cards with the old boys and listen to their stories as they bought me beers all day.)
the only time I've had anything like that was when starting at an accountants when I was about 18. I found out on my first day that my job as office junior included making the tea for everyone twice a day (it was a rather old fasioned place).
Fair enough, thinks me. I did my first round in the morning, which meant I got to meet everybody. Most people were nice enough, except for the typists. There were about seven of them in their own room and they were the most twisted and bitter old biddies I've ever met. Turns out they liked to pick on the newbies. As I passed the teas around, each one of them tasted it and made a yuk sound and complained. Not giving a shit, I left the room and went back to my desk.
When I turned up with the afternoon tea, I was told that my tea was digusting and made them feel sick. One complained that her's tasted off coffee. Quick as a flash I replied "That must have been the one I spat in."
She went white. They all went white.
They never complained again (and probably never drunk my tea again either).
(EvilMeister, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:42, Reply)

My dad
made me work in the coal fields when i was 3 so i could make a man of myself...


How happy i was when social services took him away for telling me the wrong way to use a pickaxe...

My rectum was punctured in three places.
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:41, Reply)

Not as interesting as i thought it would be
I wanted to be a vet for many many years and so I did my work experience at a vets in sunny Dudley. The muppets double booked us monkeys and as i was second in i got the proper crappy jobs - i spent a week counting out pills, cutting up bits of bandage and watching small animals having bits removed. It was dull. And the vets were miserable old goats. I didn't go near one animal the whole time i was there. Tho at least i didn't spend the week cleaning up shit, which is what the other girl did. Also i (genuinely) accidentally filled their sugar up with salt and made tea with it (serves them right for keeping them both in brown paper bags next to each other in the cupboard).
It put me off good and proper which was just as well really considering there was no chance i was ever going to get the A in chemistry that was required.
(The Ginger Penguin la la la la la la, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:38, Reply)

When I was 15
I had to do a week of work experience.

I took four days at the learning support unit at a local primary school, and one at the local BBC radio station.

Working with the special needs kids was one of the best things I've ever done- it gave me a whole new perspective on how we deal with disability and what these kids have to put up with.

During that time, the kids had a music lesson. I knew the music instructor- she helped out at the Youth Jazz Group, in which I played guitar. She was a total bitch and I had no time for her.

Which is why I was cheerful at her choice of songs. She merrily plopped the acetate with the lyrics onto the overhead projector and sat down at the piano to teach the kids to sing the song.

The song she had casually chosen was 'Greased Lightning' from the musical 'Grease'.

Ever heard a class full of young students, some of whom have difficulty speaking clearly let alone singing, struggle with the phrase 'Ain't no braggin', She's a real pussy wagon, greased lightning'?

Also, the day I spent at the radio station was a shite waste of time. It really put me off going into broadcast as a career.

Which is why I've just graduated from a degree in Journalism and have just applied for an ITV Technical Operations Traineeship.

*ahem*
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:35, Reply)

George Love
Percival Whiteley Tech (now Calderdale College) Motor Vehicle Dept lecturer.

We'd had the long stand, bucket of steam, bag of sparks for the grinder, 6 ft fallopian tube for the light fitting, 'Jesus' overalls (email for description / instructions) etc. This was 1989 and not yet H&S mad or terribly PC.

Back in the day when you could abuse the apprentice he worked in a wool mill where they dyed the stuff, bailed it etc and throughout the seven floor building had a roof mounted belt driven conveyor for moving the bails etc.

Second week in he's stripped naked except for a belt round his waist which was then attached to one of the hooks on the conveyor. That was his 'factory tour'.....which lasted all day.

He's probably dead now but he was a legend. Don't start him on time save bonus though....
(Danny Fishcharge Half arsed, smart arsed, on & off a lard arse sinc, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:34, Reply)

one for the ladies
my frined wanted to become a vet, and her enthusiasm for animals got her a work experince palcement in a vetanary surgery. Her enthusiasm for animals was only matched by her enthusiasm of giving audinces of horrified teenage boys grapahic descriptions of pet spayings.

Apprently they slit the scrotal sack and pop the balls out. Not a nice thought if your 16 and live and die by the demands of your favorite glands.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:29, Reply)

Custard everywhere
I didn't do work experience a school but had to do 2 six month stints at university. Most people did rubbish jobs like getting the post or something. I ended up getting a job with the company that made Ambrosia custard (as well as Marmite, Pot noodle and many other things).

On my first day I expected to be given some lame job but instead they sat me down and told me that I was going to be completely responsible for the supply chain for Ambrosia custard. I had to analyse sales trends, tell the factory (it actually is in Devon) what to make on a daily basis and ship lorry loads around the country to make sure everyone had enough.

When I got home after my first day I was shaking wondering why they were crazy enough to give a lazy student all of this responsibility. I was also amazed at how much fucking custard people in this country eat. I did get to go the custard factory though which was surprisingly interesting if not a little smelly.

I also got sexually harrased by a load of crazed middle aged women in the office. They were very scary.
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:27, Reply)

Not me, but a friend
Started his new job. On the first day, the guy showing him around (his name was Jim or something) said to my friend:

"I'm going to introduce you to Dave. Now whatever you do, DO NOT call him Michael."

"Why not?"

"Just don't. Trust me."

So for the next year, my friend worked with Dave, all the time straining not to slip up and call him Michael. He obsessed so much that it got harder and harder to call Dave "Dave" and not "Michael."

My friend and Dave got to be good friends, and finally my friend couldn't take it anymore. He had to know.

"So, why shouldn't people call you Michael?"

"What are you talking about?" Dave asked.

"When I started here Jim told me never, ever to call you Michael."

"Oh, that's just Jim. He does that to new people just to be a bastard."
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:24, Reply)

a bucket of steam and a tin of tartan paint please.
Bit geeky this one.

We sent a W.E. lad down to our HQ's supplies office (in Manchester, 10 miles away by train) to get some parity bits. The supplies guy was expecting him and sent him back with quite a large and bulky box full of what looked suspiciously like co-ax connectors.

On his return we were most disappointed to find he had brought us odd parity bits when we specifically needed even ones.

We almost, almost got him to search the office for some missing Token Rings that got out of the cables and had rolled around the floor somewhere. (Unfortunately he had stopped believing a word we said by then and started researching our requests before going anywhere).
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:22, Reply)

Church/heritage centre...
Under a job description of IT Accounts administrator, where i spent roughly 95% of the time making cups of tea for groups of around 25 people (the place also operated as a conference center), taking food hygene lessons from a gawky old christian biddy with dyed red hair (putting biscuits on plates, and being the joey who collected dinner for everyone from the sandwich shop across the road.) I was taking orders from serious christians (which pissed me off, because i'm atheist), and had to endulge myself in lengthy chat about their heathen jargen with the vicars who came for two conferences over the two weeks...I honestly can't remember what we talked about though. The people at the conferences were worse; fat, balding, sweaty, middle aged men who all came down at 11am for a cup of tea/coffee. All seemed well up to the point where one jokester tried to be the life of the party by pronouncing 'coffee' in a new yorker accent...I poured his coffee with spite and a sachet of sugar.

Shortly considered leaving after this moment.

I also got to put endless amounts of letters in envelopes and deliver them to the post office.
I got back at them all on the last day by laying a fresh turd in the toilets and keeping it there to rot for ever and ever and ever.

The IT guys there were alright though as i felt comfy talking to people who lead a life of technology and probably spend their time at work dossing around on forums.

Edit: The turd is no longer there as far as i know, and i stole a stapler and two ink cartridges which i burned when drunk, later.
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:19, Reply)

only job ever
Despite my school taking the time to ensure that there were more placements than pupils, thier was ahuge competion to get the most coveted work experice placment. the best job ever apprently:

painting cars in a honda garage*

roughly two thirds of the male population of my year applied for this job. and it was given to the thickest, fattest, pervyest spazzanoid ever to walk the earth**. Just as well realy as the fucker is still working there.

Thats right FIVE YEARS ON the school twunt is still in work experince. Apprently he just connected with painting downmarket japanse cars.

*yes this really was the best postion offered in work experince. Im just happy mine passed in quick chemical haze

**he is also ginger
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:18, Reply)

work experience: duration 4 hours
we've had several work experience thicko's here, but there was one who topped them all. we're a computer shop (or at least were at the time) and did our own assembly. so this 18 yo kid doing some IT course (which included assembling a computer) walked in, right on time... now, we're not complete bastards so we gave him an actual job to do... nothing hard... just format a couple of hard drives and install windows on it. 3 hours later we check up on the kid's progress... he'd spent 3 hours trying to correctly spell 'format c:'

he was kicked out the door an hour later, with advice to go and find another line of work.
(radja, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:11, Reply)

Minus the kittens and you'll see a massive ball bag
I currently have my bosses 14y/o neice sitting next to me on work experience.

Imagine her surprise (and mine) when this got forward to me on a comedy powerpoint:



(I'm going to be put on a register!)
(kintore_homeboy tenuous links since 1986!, Thu 10 May 2007, 14:00, Reply)

got sent to liverpool
from manchester as a rather dopey 18 year old summer girl when i was a letting agent.

driving home very very pleased with myself: i had found liverpool AND got the business.

until i parked back in south manchester.

MIAAAAOW!! from the back seat.

somehow, and god knows how, i had picked up a scouse joyriding hitchhiking cat and brought it home.

i thought i was in trouble for spending an extra 2 hours taking it back (my boss told me to chuck it out on the a34) but that was nothing compared to them having to get the car de-flea'd...............................
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:59, Reply)

The Good And The Bad….
The bad - First work experience as a shy teenager was teaching; why I don’t know. The other teachers decided that with my love of football I should take charge of games lessons (despite the fact that I’d spent the last few years skiving out of games to go for a crafty smoke). After 15 minutes I was left with a broken hand after being hit with a football and my teaching career was over. Still left me with an interesting party trick; all these years later I can still pop my thumb out of its socket.

The good – At college a few year later as a not so shy teenager I went to work for a building contractor. Given the joke hard hat with “Erection Specialist” written on it and sent to work on a building site; refurbishing student nurses accommodation….Result.

Length Girth etc…. I know; I’m an erection specialist…..
(Rev O'Lucian will unfortunatly age on, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:53, Reply)

I was scared
We had a work experience girl in doing work experience work, ie everything no-one else wanted to do, and she was very Very VERY chatty, to the point of infuriation. One afternoon, she went quiet for at least 15 minutes, although she still looked like she was working. This was obviously suspicious, so we sneaked round the side of her desk to see what was going on. It turned out she'd been applying tippex to her eyelashes in place of mascara - on one eye only mind you - and looked like a total freak. She didn't seem to see anything wrong with this look either...

Bless you, Mad ******, as you have been known by the rest of the company ever since!
(Hermioninny, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:49, Reply)

Mine was fine...except for the people.
I did my work experience at the solicitor's office right next door to my house, mainly because I was just too lazy to bother getting up earlier than half 8.

While I wasn't staring at the secretary's breasts or skiving off into town to meet my friends (not that much of a plus, the town being Scunthorpe), one of the junior solicitors used to get me to look at certain cases from the sides of the defendant and the prosecution, and then write a couple of pages on who should win the case and why.

Eager to please, I did my utmost to impress him through my work, spending half a day reading up on the case then using the rest of my time to argue my case on paper.

After doing this about three or four times, I finally realised that this exercise was merely to get me out of his hair, and that he never read my work. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw my latest effort in his bin only minuted after it had been given to him.

Being the cunning and vengeful little so and so I was, I started to slip in words such as 'poo' and 'bum-bum' in random places in my work, which developed into me including 'You Mr *********, are a massive fucking cunt.' in my final piece.

Unfortunately as it was my second to last day, one of the partners in the firm had decided to check up on how I was doing, and proceeded to read my final case argument before I had a chance to hand it in to the junior solicitor.

I left in disgrace (although smiling), and after taking one last look at the secratary's fine pair of knockers, almost skipped home knowing that I had just got myself a three day weekend.

Apologies for length, it's my first time and I'm excited...
(the cat is pouncing on your face on, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:42, Reply)

I was a
a signmaker on a young thick and stupid program (YTS) best story there was when we had a work experience guy came in, Marminder was his name (we nicknamed him marmite)

Anyway i sent him down to the workshop to ask for a long weight (ie wait) if you know the prank.... 5 mins later he comes up with a 6 foot gents toilet sign, i said no that's the wrong one so back down he goes....

Next thing i heard was a "urrrgh" *clink* "urrgh" *clink* and so on then at the top of the stairs appeared marmite with a huge compressor on wheels that the guy (who was obviously in on the joke) gave him, then has he wheeled it into the office then our big boss walked in right on cue and said "what the hell are you doing with that?" he replied "Alex(me) said to go and get a long weight" and the boss (all red faced and mad) said "what's that then?" lol classic

there are more stories like me getting getting thrown in a skip and the other yts kid getting locked in a filing cabinet but i'll save those for another day!
(djgalaxe, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:39, Reply)

cafe cnuts
When I turned up for my first day of work experience at a poxy high street cafe, I introduced myself and was greeted by blank looks.
It turns out they had forgotten all about agreeing to the schools request for my work experience and therefore had nothing for me to do. So after getting me to wash their stinking cutlery (in boiling water with no rubber gloves) they sent me back to school saying there was nothing for me to do but thanked me for arriving on time, dressed smart etc. But...instead of admitting their (hopefully Altzheimer's related) forgetfullness, they told the deputy head I had spat on their tables ?!?! Hence a bolloking about being the school discrace.

I got a nice little revenge on them years later mind, but thats for another QOTW
(Murphy, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:37, Reply)

Induction
This story takes place in about 1989, when I worked at a Naval Subcontractor noted for developing magnetometers.

We had a work-experience student who was told to build an interface circuit for a 1-Henry Inductor. He spent a day and a half arsing round in the lab looking for a 1-Henry Inductor, but could only find a 1-nanohenry one in the component tray.

For a good reason.

We only had one 1-Henry inductor, and it weighed close to three tons, which was why it was kept outside in it's own special shed, in plain view, at the end of the carpark, with a sign on it saying "1-Henry Inductor".

We all knew this, of course, but we were running a betting pool on how long before he worked it out - which took two days.

What was really depressing was that he tried stringing all the small inductors he could find together to make a 1-henry one.

You want length? A bigger version can be at www.stevedix.de/blog/562
( Stevedix http://www.stevedix.de/blog, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:31, Reply)

Not me but an emo *vomit*
My cousin is probably the most spoilt child ever born. She recently came to stay with my aunt and uncle, said cousin laid sole claim to the guest double bed and forced my uncle and aunt to sleep on the floor.....

But I digress, my cousin decided it would be an easy cop out to work in my aunts office for her work experience. My aunt had a meeting the first day and left my cousin (and friend) at the office to do very basic jobs such as making tea and fetching files. The idea being the rest of the week she would show them the more interesting side of television production.

Apparently, one day was one too many for my over indulged cousin. My aunts boss phoned her up on the evening of the first day, suggesting in no uncertain terms that it would not be a good idea for my cousin (or her friend) to bother coming back, ever. A side from being a generic emo teenager* I have still yet to discover what she must have done to infuriate my aunts boss. If I do I will let you know.


*read, the epitome of what is wrong with the over indulged and self obsessed middle classes.

Length? Girth? this a story, not a photograph of my willy you pervert!
(serial lurker, Thu 10 May 2007, 13:30, Reply)