You can stick your job...
So I was a young second year student, seeking an industrial placement for my third year. I'd been invited to an interview at Lloyds TSB and decided to along as I had little success with all my other interviews. On arrival at their dumpy office in Wythenshawe, south Manchester, I noticed that this place was the dump of all dumps. A moleste steaming monument to dumpiness. I got a tour of the endless rows of cubicles filled with computers, alcoholics and grey spirits before being invited into 'the interview room' with the Manager and his colleague. This room was about 2 metres by 1 metre and now contained a desk, a computer, 3 chairs and the three of us. There was no air condioning and the manager was a very fat man. He was already slightly sweaty after nervously having to accept that he had completely forgotten I was coming for the interview that day. Needless to say, after 45 minutes of what seemed like days, trying to answer questions with an eager and professional attitude, the smell would have been unbearable. It would have been unbearable, if it had not been for the fact that I was so distracted by the manager's posture and composition - facing me, with legs wide apart, shirt untucked, dripping armpits, and one big boxer-wrapped bollock hanging out from where he had split his trousers.

I was offered the job and immediately concluded that the industrial placement wasn't for me and so opted out of the programme. It has also set me against banks... and work, in general. I have been eagerly seeking sustainable unemployment ever since.
(X, Tue 25 Jan 2005, 21:34, Reply)