What a bitch
I did the whole work experience thing and learned how to make it hell for some poor little tit.

I wanted to be a mechanic (yes I know, very girly) and my school sent me to the crappiest garage in the whole universe. I was assigned to work with Neville, the alcoholic manic depressive. I once saw him test drive a car with no stearing wheel. Apparently the horn sounded when it turned left, so he took off the stearing wheel and drove with mole grips.

Then I tried heavy vehicle mechanics. By now I should have known better, but I still went and asked for the long weight at the store. I rapidly became more wary and refused to get the bucket of steam.

Move on ten years and I am a work shop manager in a bike shop, building shit hot mountain bikes all day. A local thick cunt school kid turns up and is a lazy fuck. I sent him off to see the shop manager for the following items.

A bucket of cold steam to clean a bike.
A glass hammer to see what I was hitting.
The usual left handed screw driver.
A long stand.
A short stand.
An imperial adjustable spanner for an old Raleigh.

The boss called me into his office and I was mildly disciplined for bullying and wasting the boss's time.

Nowadays I work in a school science department as a technician (yes a more girly job) and occasionally one of the kids is thick enough to want to work with us. They love working with me, I have my own lab, I play loud rock music and Radio 4 and make the bugger inventory the very same equipment they have been nicking or chucking out of the window. I hate the little bastards.
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Fri 11 May 2007, 21:06, Reply)