» Airport Stories

First Post
Last year I was going to an NUS conference in Edinburgh (I'm not old or corporate enough to get to go to real job-related conference).

We went from Swansea to Cardiff airport to get a plane (our student's union was paying, what did we care?) and the only food being served were sandwidges for around a fiver each from the crappy newsagents (which, of course, only seemed to sell the Daily Mail).

We sat down in the departure lounge (which had all of around 3 seats - Wales is nothing if not an unpopular destination) and after a minute or so realised we had to go get on the plane.

We got to the security check before I realised I'd left my super-expensive sandwidge in the departure lounge.

So obviously I dropped my luggage at a security guard's feet and ran.

I believe there are only 2 reasons I'm not a bullet ridden corpse.
1- I'm white.
2- No-one cares about Welsh airports enough to give the security guards guns.

...
(Thu 9th Mar 2006, 2:09, More)

» Work Experience

Buggering Kunts
When I was in six-form college my parents decided to spring the surprise on me that I needed a part time job. The knew the manager of a well-known fast food chain on the pier who had complained of being short-staffed. So they offered up their eldest son.

Well, it was about as fun as can be imagined in a place where none of your co-workers could speak enough English to have a decent conversation and the manager wouldn't even lift a finger when there were only 2 staff around to make burgers and serve customers AND you'd had no training so I decided to not do very well and maybe get fired (I obviously couldn't quit).

Depressingly, most of my mistakes weren't deliberate. The most memorable one goes as follows -
The burgers were all flame-grilled and there was a special machine that does it. There are two conveyer-belts going in, a lower one that goes through the flames (for the meat to go on) and a higher one that goes above them to toast the bread.

So of course I mixed them up. The meat got toasted. The bread came out on fire.

Oops.

I also managed to nearly injure people on several occasions (like when I cleaned all the tables with toxic chemicals) and the icing on the cake was when some bastard took a shit in the middle of the floor (got home that day to my mum having found my gay porn, woohoo).

Would you believe I was still one of their better employees?

I can't wreak as much havoc now I'm doing a PhD.
(Thu 10th May 2007, 19:13, More)

» Personal Hygiene

The Bakery of S**nsbury
Ugh, unsurprisingly my story revolves around a housemate. And a supermarket.

I lived with this guy a couple of years ago. He lived on a diet of (almost solely) pork pies and chicken kievs, which didn't do much good for his digestive system.
One day he was sat on the couch in my room, when he let rip - suddenly jumping up and running to the other end of the room. When I asked what was up, he said he'd shit himself. Then I smelled it.
I wouldn't have minded so much, but the couch was new and he was wearing nothing but a dressing gown.

Perhaps even better, he'd just graduated from uni with an English degree and couldn't find a decent job (I also have an English degree, but decided to stay in school forever...) - ergo he winds up in the bakery of a well-known supermarket chain.

Somehow said chain didn't notice the fact that he didn't wash his uniform, of which he only had one, which he wore EVERY DAY. He didn't wash it for two months, by which time it reeked. He made me touch it. It was encrusted. He also never washed his hands and had the worst gas. God knows what he passed into the food.

Still, serves all the fuckers who shop in supermarket bakeries right, eh?
(Mon 26th Mar 2007, 11:37, More)