Mines was superb
At my dads work.

Got on with the boss, finished a 2 day job by 2pm of the first day and had nothing else to do. Didn't give me any work the last day eitehr so I watched porn on the computer and wanked in their toilet.

For a council office I'm suprised they never caught me! (porn that is...I'm a careful wanker)
(puggs, Fri 11 May 2007, 16:03, Reply)

"work" experience?
I never really liked the sound of 'work' at age 14, and still don't now 10 years later, but back then I was far more cunning in my attempts to get out of it. I'm being forced to do it now for rent and beer, but back then I had no such worries so I took the easier, least career-helping 'experience' on the list.

Most of my friends ended up in the usual banks, shops old people's homes, primary schools, but somehow I ended up at art college. Not working at the college, oh no, I went there for two weeks as a student.
Whomsoever came up with the idea that one of the options would be being a student layabout for two weeks was a bloody genius. I sat in the grass and smoked with the students, and built a boat out of paper straws while the rest of my friends struggled with menial admin and arse-wiping jobs. Woo!

I also conned the school out of my 'travel expenses' by putting my address as my home address (10 miles from the college) and staying with my dad (5 mins walk from the college).

It was very handy experience as it goes, as since completing my GCSEs I have managed to waste a further 7 years in educational establishments, and if my luck holds out, I might be going back for another three. Procrastination is an art that must be learned..
(niftyshellsuit, Fri 11 May 2007, 15:56, Reply)

One way glass and getting the boss sacked.
Whilst at college I was forced to do work experience in the town centre office of our local 'enterprise trust'. It was funded by the council, local business people and some accounting firm, and its job was supposedly to help local people start their own businesses.
They had a female secretary, an utterly useless manager who was on 'secondment' from said accounting firm and me.

Initially it was quite entertaining because I got to arrange the appointments, so I concentrated on booking in the most obviously insane people with equally insane ideas. I remember one who wanted to buy a small boat and use it to sell booze to people walking along the canal towpath, and another who wanted to sell dolls made out of sellotape - you get the picture...

After a week or two the manager and secretary realised that I could pretty much handle this rubbish without them being there and started to take days off together (it was pretty obvious what was going on).

Left on my own for days on end, I tired of reading the paper and discovered that during daylight hours the one way glass covering the office front was completely opaque when viewed from the street, so I could do whatever I liked in the office and the masses of people walking about outside couldn't see a thing. I started off with a few v-signs and pressing my face to the window whenever anybody tried to peer through it, then I progressed to dancing around the office stark naked (I'll leave you to imagine the rest).

During one of my nude days, I got a phone call from the manager's manager who wanted to know where he was, so I said that he hadn't been in for days, and neither had the secretary. Then he asked where the ***??** he was, so I said that he might want to try ringing the secretary's house.
I promptly put my clothes on and did a runner. Apparently he got sacked for gross misconduct.

Length? - only I know that thanks to the magic glass.
(barlick, Fri 11 May 2007, 15:35, Reply)

Don't nick the sugar.
My first experience of proper work, outside of the paper-round, was in a well known government building in Sheffield. It was the work experience placement most kids have at the age of 14/15. I was scared shitless.

I was based in the Reprographics department, which was in the 2nd Basement of the building. Not the basement. The SECOND basement, as in below the the basement.

It wasn't the most pleasant of working environments, and as a result, the staff were pretty stressed.

Break time was the eye in the office hurricane, where calm drifted over the printers and binders like the hand of Buddha. That said - there was a regime. Everyone had their own seat, own cup, their own teabags and the like. Sugar was like gold dust.

I didn't know this, and on the second day, made the mistake of using the chief printer's cup and teabags at lunchtime.

Unaware of my faux pas, it wasn't until clocking off time until the chief printer collared me.

"Scentless, I can I have a word?"

He directed me to the stationery room (which was more of a dark alley than a room), locked the door behind him, and grabbed me by the throat. I then got the most shit-inducing lecture I've ever had in my life:

"IF YOU EVER TOUCH MY TEA STUFF AGAIN I SHALL RIP YOUR BOLLOCKS OFF AND PUT THEM THROUGH THE FUCKING SHREDDER, UNDERSTAND, YOU LITTLE SHITHOUSE?"

I nodded incessantly, he let go, said "good" and walked off.

Shivering, I composed myself, walked out, got the 48 home and cried myself to sleep.

When a teacher came out to see me to see how I was doing, she was asking staff how I was getting on when the guy came over, put his arm round me and said "we'd love to have him full time, he's such a hard worker...". I don't think the teacher noticed the wet patch in my overalls.

Still, I got £70 for the weeks work, whereas my mate got bog all!

Always a silver lining, I guess!
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Fri 11 May 2007, 15:34, Reply)

I did my week's work experience in the offices of a theatre company
a couple of days after i finished they got broken into,

I was a suspect as my fingerprints were everywhere

WELL DUH

i was 15, it was not nice
luckily the shoes that kicked down the door were size 6 and I'm a size 11, it didn't stop the police interviewing me with my headmaster present

I still got a good refernce though
click " I like this" as it's true

and not by apeloverage or frankspencer
( SickRik float like a camembert sting like a brie, Fri 11 May 2007, 15:26, Reply)

Apeloverage did his work experience at an Estate Agents.
They all thought he was a cunt too.

In fact, that's a lie, he's never experienced work owing to his all consuming fascination of being a) a fantasy roleplayer (substitute for friends) and b) being derided as a cunt for spending all his time/intellect being a smartarse in front of people he'll never know or meet.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 11 May 2007, 14:51, Reply)

Maybe, but not a lot.
Ahh… work experience!

Mine was actually quite good, at the time (15 years of age) I was working on Saturdays (all shops were closed on a Sunday, it's was the law!) in a sports shop, which, at the time was brilliant, all the trainers I wanted, at cost-price plus VAT. (Which meant they were between 30% and 60% cheaper than the retail price).

Anyway, we were all individually tasked as school to arrange out own work experience and it was painful to say the least. NONE of us made any attempt to try and get work experience within areas of employment we might be interested in, instead, we all looked for ways in which we could be paid at the end of the working week. This meant that most of the lads who had self-employed parents blagged themselves a fortnight with the family firm, the lads who had dads with a trade would labour for them and so on.

My old man was retired, my old dear worked in Insurance.

I wanted money.

So, one Saturday - having had a particularly productive day selling - I casually mention to my boss that I've got 2 weeks of work experience to arrange and, if he wanted me, I'd be available.

He thought about it for a bit and then said, 'OK' - but if you are working full time, I can't give you 'full time' money, you'll have the same commission (I got a quid for every pair of shoes sold that cost over £20.00 and I was allowed to give upto a 15% discount on anything to close a deal) - and I got a massive £1.75 per hour. That's one pound and seventy five pence.

Turns out however, that the two weeks I worked, appeared to be the 2 most popular weeks of the year for foreign exchange students to visit the roman city of Bath. It also turns out that Brazilian students have a stupid amount of money and were, at the time completely mad for New Balance trainers.

So, whilst, at the age of 15 I was earning about a tenner a day based on my hourly wage, I was able to top this up by between 30 and 40 quid a day with commission.

So there I was, working 6 days a week for 2 weeks and I made almost £500.00 which, as a 15 year old (And this is well over 15 years in the past) - I felt like a millionaire!

You know what I did with the money? No? Me neither.

This is a rubbish story isn't it?

Click 'I like' if you think this is rubbish as well.

Rubbish - but true, and we can't all claim that can we?
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 11 May 2007, 14:32, Reply)

the work experience report I filled out.

I'd recommend Ron Jeremy to anyone. He is very helpful and enthusiastic. For example he offered to make everyone a cup of tea on his first day. He is also extremely proactive and resourceful: when I couldn't find a teaspoon to stir it he found a solution almost immediately. My only qualification is that I would advise employers who might consider hiring Ron in the future to give the highest priority to making sure that teaspoons are available at all times.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 11 May 2007, 14:29, Reply)

Not for the squeamish
Not 'official' work experience, but my aunt, who was at a loss for what to do with me whilst I was staying with her for two weeks, sorted me out with some 'volunteer' work (I had no choice in the matter) at the wildlife rescue charity where she worked.

My job involved cleaning out pet carriers with wounded hedgehogs, pigeons, etc in. I thought dog shit was the worst smell ever. But how many people have had their head inside a pet carrier liberally smeared with hedgehog droppings? I assure you that it's considerably worse.

This isn't the worst bit, though. Feeding the bastard prickly things was the one thing most people refused to do. I'm not a squeamish person. They fed the hedgehogs a mixture of kitten food, biscuits, vitamin mix....and baby chicks.

The baby chicks are a result of the battery egg process. Some eggs are kept and hatched in order to get more chickens. Some of these eggs hatch into cocks, ok, male chickens. As we all know, men are useless, at least for laying eggs. So, they gas them. At one day old, the baby chicken still has the yolk inside the stomach. Hedgehogs, particularly wounded ones, need their food chopped up.

You can guess what's coming. Kitchen scissors, off with the legs, off with the beak, cut it all into little pieces, and be careful where you aim so that all that lovely protein-filled yolk doesn't go everywhere. I don't know how I did it, really I don't. Hedgehogs are evil.

Length? About 5 inches long and covered in spikes.
(firemasque, Fri 11 May 2007, 14:18, Reply)

I am a cnut.
While doing my best to piss what few years of free education the UK goverment is willing to bestow upon us up various walls, I had the misfortune to 'work' at a popular fast food outlet (Hint, they are apparaently 'loving it').

I enphasize the word 'work' due to my very lose interpretation fo the term back then, the place was managed by my best mates house mate, and thus I already knew just how far i would have to push in order to get fired, and so I filled my shifts with any activities beyond those that I actually 'should' of being doing, but I digress.

One day, a young lad turns up in order to do work experience in this place... talk about setting your sights high... two more year under his belt and they would pay him for being there with no questions asked.

I decided to make it my personal mission to 'scare this lad straight' as it were, highlights included...

making him colour in the tile grouting with a marker pen

counting ice cubes, and then keeping a tally chart of the number given out that day

endurance training, involving the freezer, him in the usual uniform and me in the big fluffy freezer coat and holding a stop watch.

requesting autographs from customers who I had told him were

...and obviously, forcing him to eat some of the shite produced in the place.

I hear the lad did quite well with his studies in the end, and now works in IT, You really DO have to be cruel to be kind... cos it's more fun that way.
( BulldogUgly Visit my profile to see what's between my legs, Fri 11 May 2007, 14:08, Reply)

pies
I got to do two day's work experience with the Mountain Rescue team at RAF St Athan when I was on summer camp.

The first day we sat about watching Monty Python videos and munching cherry bakewells which was much better than boring air traffic control (no actual aeroplanes landing or taking off, yawn), or dicking about in a hangar watching some techie nicking bits of broken aeroplanes to use as spares for other broken aeroplanes)

Then the next day we went rock-climbing. Ace.

However now I'm properly grown up I always take a proper map, some distress flares and a fluorescent duvet with me when I go hillwalking in the mountains because I know that, should I get lost, the mountain rescue team will have to finish their cherry bakewell pies and come back from rock-climbing before they can come and rescue me.*




*This may or may not be true and I think lots of people actually have been rescued by the mountain rescue people so hurray.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Fri 11 May 2007, 14:00, Reply)

Mistaken Identity
I had my work experience in a barristers' chambers, but I basically ended up wandering around and watching court cases for two weeks. During this time, despite the fact that I was 16, had a lost expression on my face, and was dressed in a suit that looked like an Oxfam reject, I was mistaken for:

A Press Officer
An Interpreter
A Parole Officer
and, most gallingly, when turning up to the trial of a 50 year old balding thug for Assault Occasioning Actual Bodily Harm; the defendant.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:50, Reply)

Saturday Job
Not quite work experience, but first experience of work, if you see the difference.

Saturday 'boy' at a large high street chain, begins with W and ends with oolworths.

The staff room had lockers to hang up your coats etc, and that's where the girls changed in and out of their overalls, so if you were lucky and glanced, accidentally, at the right time you could see some underwear :)
That's like living in the Playboy Mansion if you're only 16 :)
(Underpants, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:27, Reply)

Mmmm Pizza
First job experience - Never work with food.
While i was doing my GCSEs i got a job at a pizza delivery place that used lovely yellow cars with big phones on top of them. I had to make pizza from 4 in the avo till 2 in the morning with an unpaid half hour break. For £2 an hour! I had to buy my own food too.
If this slave labour wasn't bad enough, my mate who also worked there, happened to be there when the place got done over. There was much waving of large knives and being tied to a chair (she was 16 too and also on £2/hr). Obviously she was a bit shaken, this was made much worse when it came to the end of the week and she checked her money only to find that the bastard that ran the place had stopped paying her from the time the robbery took place! She stayed there for another 6 months too. :(
We have proper jobs now. Sort of.
(The Ginger Penguin la la la la la la, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:27, Reply)

Foot Fun
As a wayward 15 year old I managed to blag a Saturday gig at the established footwear giant 'Clarks'. All was fun and games until I noticed a couple of elderly gentlemen coming in to get their feet measured. Come again? Yep, I presume they rather enjoyed young nubile lovelies on their knees, at their feet, rubbing their calluses. I point blank refused and shortly after got a job as a teen escort as I figured the pay was better.*


*this is an attempt at humour, I have never once been paid for sexytime.
(mistressmuck The broccoli had gone. But the hurt remained., Fri 11 May 2007, 13:27, Reply)

RSPCA versus...
Back in the salad days of Year 10, I did my work experience at a solicitors. It was fairly mundane - typing up reports, making tea etc - I didn't mind though as I had a couple of days off to take a GCSE exam.

Anyways, the most exciting bit of the work experience was going to the Crown Court. The first case I saw was some teenage thug dressed up in a tacky suit trying to get his sentence for drink driving reduced. The second was a case involving international car theft by a group of ten midgets - that was the most amusing by far as they could hardly see over the witness box. The third was at the Magistrates Court as it was only a preliminary hearing (RSPCA v. some cruel bloke), but after I had finished work experience the case became fairly high profile - it was on telly and everything!

As a few other people have said, I have had a few menial jobs, but work experience was vaguely interesting - if only the court stuff :)
( its_hatorah_bitch is b3ta the devil you know on, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:24, Reply)

Yummy
I couldn't be arsed finding something I actually wanted to do for work experience in year 10, so just went to work at my Mums school for a week. I hate children though so it probably wasn't the best idea.

Halfway through a week of bastard little brats doing their best to wind me up, I caught a raging, stinking cold, resulting in me looking like a monster with running eyes, nose and dribbling slightly. Still I soldiered on, and was delighted when, during reading hour, I sneezed spectacularly over the most irritating twat of a boy that had been pissing me right off all week.

Fuck yeah.
(posage As I turned the corner I felt muscular and compact, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:15, Reply)

"work experience" these days basically consists of your school forcing you to do, unpaid, the kind of work you're going to school to avoid.
That's got to be the best quote of this qotw so far..

Actually my work experience wasn't bad. My earliest 'work experience' was for my Dad. This was not really a cushy number, as he has high expectations, and I had to go home with him at the end of the day, so couldn't bitch! Bottom line - I became very good at filing drawings, moving large heavy boxes, copying A0 drawings using special light reactive film and ultraviolet light, and getting the occasional paper cut..

At college I did get to do some work experience with an IBM service centre - it was ok actually. There was some tidying, testing, entering things into their systems and going out on hardware maintenance swapouts. They were ok guys, and when there was nothing to do they let me play Prince of Persia :).

To the b3tan that did WE at a bank and got hauled over the coals for trying to find games in OS/2 : it *does* have games (at least in v2 onwards) including a great mahjonng, but you don't install them in banking environments!
(EssY, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:13, Reply)

At an IT department
At 14 i was given two pc's, a hub, 98 install disc and a nt install disc.

I was told to set one up as a nt server and the other as a client and to research using norton ghost as they had a dodgy batch of harddiscs.

Bloody did aswell.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:08, Reply)

Is it just me...
or does that story about the bloke getting work experience as a page 3 photographer reek of bullshit? "I asked my Mum's photography teacher". As you do. Jog on, mate.
( wotofco pissing in your swimming pool, Fri 11 May 2007, 13:01, Reply)

I work in Publishing, darling...
...and as everybody knows, unless you're a) blonde, b) female, c) horsey, d) female, e) called Lady Pandora-Fenella ‘Fennypoos’ Posh-Posh McPosh, f) squealy, g) female and h) the niece of one of the directors, it's rather tough to get a foot in the door.

However, I’d inexplicably chosen to do a degree in Linguistics, and so thought it might be the only way to avoid ending up a) teaching Poetry Appreciation to psychotic 12 year olds in Bradford, or b) teaching EFL to psychotic 12 year olds in Gabon.

So I applied to do 2 months of work experience at one of the snootier publishers in London. With my degree, thought I, they’ll be fighting to employ me. I can spell and everything! Unfortunately I don’t fit many of the criteria above, being resolutely un-posh and something of a speccy twat to boot.

So after 1 week in Fiction sticking out like a sore, gangly thumb, I was quietly dispatched to Reference (Home of The Oddball) where they thought my talents would be 'better used'. And spent the rest of my placement alone in a windowless basement room, counting words in the dictionary. No computer. Just a dictionary, a bit of paper and a biro. And all joyfully unpaid.

Adding it up, with rent, travel and food and subsequent therapy, seems I paid them over a grand to be locked in a cupboard for the summer.

I’m still there now (though we’ve upgraded to a cupboard with windows, thankfully), and after 3½ years it’s as fun and glamour-packed as it always was. Kids, don’t do it. Especially if you'd like your monthly experience of opening your wage packet to be slightly more enjoyable than being arse-raped by an enraged donkey.

Can anyone lend me the money for a ticket to Gabon?
(no way hose is staring unemployment in the face on, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:41, Reply)

I Spent My First Work Experience....
Knee deep in pig shit.
Fun, really.

Year 10, two weeks of compulsory work experience. Muggins 'ere got placed on a farm.

I spent the entire two weeks cleaning up after pigs, having my arms yanked off by dogs tht didn't understand the concept of walking nicely on a lead and being attacked by an angry goose with a broken wing.

Not to mention nearly killing the bloody guinea pigs.... Oops. Fed them the wrong food.....

I came home every day stinking of cat piss and pigstyes. And ferrets. smelly buggers, ferrets.

Well worth it tho. I got to play with the puppys! (Even if they did have worms....)
(TuftyBee should have been working on, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:37, Reply)

Dumbass
Little bit off topic but then most of the posts so far have been my first job rather than work experience storys, anyway I digress. . .

Worked a airport restaurant, managed to convince a new starter to water the plant pots depsite the plants being plastic and the fact there were uplighters in the set in the fake gravel within the pots.

Pretty dangerous really in retrospect.

Also convinced him he had to wear an A4 laminated fire escape prodedure book around his neck on a chain until he had undergone fire training.
(jonnyninetails, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:37, Reply)

Should have sued them
3 weeks of clambering about in stinking dishwashers and wiring lights knee deep in cow shit on some farm with an electrician for me,what fun.

Bloke was a bit of a perv with stacks of porn mags under his desk, no problem thinks 13yr old me gleefully when left to mind the office for half a day.
WE over and following school holidays completed a very humble looking deputy head calls me into his office to explain above mentioned electrician is now being entertained at her majesties pleasure for kiddy fiddling!

So well done Cambridgeshire Education Authority, Wonder how many other dodgy bleeders your providing with fresh meat every year.

God I must be revolting, 3 weeks tempting the bugger but still managed to keep my trousers on!
(Phlegmcake Chewy in a runny kind of way, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:18, Reply)

Local Airport Air Training Centre
Started work experience at the local air training college in the offices - the twunts pretty much used me as a dogsbody (as is to be expected I suppose).

They had an electronic stapler and I'd never seen anything like it before. I put the staples in the way you would put them in a normal stapler, but no! in this one they had to be upside down, even though they fitted and the top would go down regardless of which way they were inserted.

Used it and of course it didn't work and the staple got jammed.

One of the posh flying twunts saw this and picked it up and proclaimed loudly to another posh flying twunt: "ha ha - look! This is what you get when you employ YTS idiots." - despite me not being on a YTS - who was the twunt? He didn't even know where his dogsbodies had come from.

Anyway, later the same f*cker had me upside-down underneath his plane scraping the grime off of it (despite being told I would be working in the office and wearing a suit - as I was told to do).

So I scrapped the words "I am a" on one wing, and "complete twat" on the other - only visible while flying of course.

Only lasted one more day after that!

Funny that.
(dchurch bah, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:16, Reply)

Never trust a work experience boy with a gun.
My brother did a stint of work experience on a farm. Pretty much everything that could go wrong did.

He was shown how to drive the ute, but while running some errands on the property he rolled it, spilling hay everywhere and "misplacing" the dog that was riding on the hay bales. He accidentally speared a cow with a hay-bale lifter (akin to a forklift). After being shown how to cross giant ditches with a tractor (head on, the tire's diameter is bigger than one thinks), he lost his nerve and veered sideways into 2 feet of water, lodging the tractor into a muddy channel at 55 degrees.

But his competence really shone when he went 'roo shooting.

He was given a .303, and stood on the back of the ute, leaning over the top of the driver cabin. As a 16-yr-old city kid, he was somewhat unprepared for the recoil of the big gun. He fired his first shot at some 6-foot big red.....and nearly passed out in shock at the kick of the rifle. In order to nurse the pain of his nearly-broken shoulder, he put the rifle down....on the roof of the ute....while the farmer was still driving over fairly bumpy terrain.

The second shot (from the now unattended and briefly airborne rifle) went straight through the engine block, 30 centimetres from the farmer's nuts.

My brother spent the rest of that week digging stones out of the 4 kilometre farm driveway.
(iusr, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:14, Reply)

Internship...
While doing her medical internship, my better half's sister had a wonderful evening.

I am listing things today, so lets list.

- 12 hour shift
- New years eve
- boyfriend kept her up bonking all night before
- boyfriend breaks up with her via text (after several years together)
- lancing boil on Turkish mans arse
- explosion of pus to face
(lessmiserable, Fri 11 May 2007, 12:00, Reply)

Phil learns gobby workshy chav
Another tale relayed to me courtesy of my pal Phil, who's a professional carpenter and does all kinds of things with wood on building sites.

Building site behaviour is primitive at best, despite everyone being professionals the opportunity for some world class dicking about is never missed. You need a strong character and a sense of humour to survive unscathed and when working with characters like "Wanking Steve", "Johnny Fartpants", "Shags" and "Bob & Spong" (the latter is often known for violent rages in response ot being called "Spong"). You get the picture.

Some unfortunate first dayers have been locked in portaloos and rolled round the site, painters have been distracted while someone craps in the tin and a memo was sent round the site expressly prohibit the throwing of bricks at portaloos when in use.

A local teenage scally had figured that building work was easy money and decided that he'd do work experience with Phil's colleagues. As is typical of many teenagers today, he turned up and began throwing his skinny weight around telling people twice his age/size that they can "fuck off with giving me shit jobs, I ain't makin' no fakkin tea for no khant". This proved the high point of his popularity so far, as it didn't take long for our charming chav to alienate everyone on site.

Phil had a devious plan

"Here mate, I've got an important job for you!" said Phil
"Wat'cha got fer me?" replied Chavvo
"I need you to climb up this ladder with me and check the alignment of the chimney".

With that Phil handed him two three foot planks and led him up the scaffold to the roof.

"Right mate, put a plank on either side and hold them there, I'll be able to see whether it's straight or not".

With that, Phil grabbed a nearby ratchet strap (like the ones you see on the backs of lorries to secure heavy loads) and threw it round WE guy while another bloke pinned him to the chinney.

"Wha' fuggin doing yer kahnts!"

The ratchet was tightened and another thrown round for good measure.

"Yer fakkin wankahs!"

WE boy was going nowhere, still holding the planks and firmly attached to the chimney some thirty feet above the ground.

"Get mi dahn or I'll take a fahkin screwdriver to yer vans!"

They gave him an hour before asking if he was okay.

"Fakkin Khants! Lemme dahn" was the reply. He'd not learned his lesson yet so they left him up there while they went for lunch.

Upon returning, they were gratified to note that WE boy had began to cry having clearly run out of other options for bargaining for his release. So they did the sensible thing and left him for another hour.

By the time he came down he was a reformed character and even offered to make everyone on site tea, albeit under strict supervision.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 11 May 2007, 11:59, Reply)

I did work experience in Heaven

Even though I didn't get very interesting jobs - mostly converting the Book of Names to Excel - the angels were all very nice. Well, infinitely nice actually.

Anyway one of them worked out that I was into music, so they asked if I wanted to meet various famous dead musicians. So one day I went on a tour of Heaven and got to meet Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, Johnny Cash...and then I passed a huge throne where Bono was sitting!

I said hang on, I didn't know Bono was dead - is he visiting too?

The angel lowered his voice and said no, that's God - the wanker just thinks he's Bono.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 11 May 2007, 11:50, Reply)

Lubricants 2
Golddust's post has just reminded me.

I did a year placement (wasn't posh enough to have a gap year) at a petrochemical company that sounds a bit like "Hell".

Turned up on the first day and was delivered to the section I'd be working in.

And what was that?

Lubricants and Special Products.

Can you imagine what it does for your social life when people ask you what you do for a living and you reply...

"I test lubricants."

Apologies for slipperiness.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 11 May 2007, 11:44, Reply)