Being used to settle a bet...
I grew up in the Midlands (factories, faggots and peas, mild ale, strong accents, you get the picture...)

I work down in that there London, with mostly posh types (especially senior management).

Once, when I was quite junior, I was standing waiting to get something off the printer when the head of department's door opened and he shouted to me:

'Snowy - come here a moment'

So I scurried over into his office, where another senior management type was sitting...

'Snowy - you're from the North right?'
Me: 'Well, the Midlands, which isn't quite...'
'Yeah, yeah, whatever... Important question: what do you have on chips?'
Me: 'Er, salt and vinegar?'
'Anything else?'
Me: Erm, I might have a bit of curry sauce, maybe some gravy if there's some going'
'Ha!'

...and he turned to the other guy...

'That's a tenner you owe me, I told you the poor have gravy on their chips. You can go now Snowy - I imagine you've got lots to be getting on with....'

Fucking. Hell.

This was the same guy who was sent on a Diversity Training Course and asked the trainer 'What you're supposed to call poofs nowadays', so I suppose laughing at me for having gravy on chips was quite mild, really...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:52, 7 replies)

Worked on a hospital ward some years ago leading up to xmas
under a nutty and heavily pregnant Sister.

Instead of trying to relax and let others shoulder some responsibility, for her own and the baby's sakes, she became more and more randomly aggressive, giving out so many shrill bollockings that she regularly lost her voice.

A few days before xmas she got up on a chair and ripped down our lovingly-hung decorations, declaring that the place looked 'like a grotto'. Erm, that was the intention, Sister...

After making us all thoroughly miserable she grudgingly took maternity leave and we all sighed with relief.

Things didn't go well, though. Being a Sister she was given a private room in the same hospital, which meant that she was able to nap undisturbed as her new baby girl slipped away from a cot death beside her, only a day old.

Very sad indeed. Dunno if her work stress contributed to it, but I bet she believes it did.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:49, 8 replies)

Well, my first boss...
was a massive dyke, including playing rugby (Through her I have met the majority of the english female rugby team. Turned out one of them was a close relative to the girl I was seeing at the time. Small world and all.). I eventually got fired for taking cigarette breaks all the time because it gave the shop a bad image. Oh well.

My current boss is brilliant. I work as a Maths Technician in a school, so my direct boss is the head of maths. I'm allowed to work *very* flexible hours, so it isn't unusual for me to phone in and take the day off because I'm hungover. I'm also allowed to get away with any hairstyle or piercings I want. Thus; over the previous year, my hair has been long and red, long and pink, long and blond, short and purple, short and blue, and I was told I could put it in dreads if I fancied it - I didn't, because dreads are too much hassle. Both of my ear lobes are stretched to 18mm, I have a variety of other piercings on my ears, and can get my lip/eyebrow/nose pierced if I fancy it, but I don't like the look of them tbh.

On tuesday, he asked why I was hobbling. "Because I tattooed my feet last night". His respone? "Let me guess, "LEFT" on your right foor, "RIGHT" on your left?".

He was right.

Life is pretty good at the minute, thanks to having a relaxed and friendly boss.
(oneiromancer was rifling through your fridge on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:48, 4 replies)

Mr Hoppy!!
My boss at my last proper job (i.e. not academia) was an enthusiastic, dedicated man who always did his best to listen and respond to the concerns of his workforce.

Unfortunately, he had the voice of Ivan Dobsky, the Meat-Safe Murderer. He may have been talking about a new client design, or a change in order quantities, but I was hearing "I never done it. I only said I done it so they wouldn't give me another jalfrezi enema..."
(Concrete Cow, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:48, 5 replies)

Nothing bad...
I've never really had any problems with my bosses, but being only 21 means I've only had 3 jobs (including my current) and therefore 3 bosses.

The 1st job was a shitty Nightfill Assistant job (stacking shelves after hours) at a shit store. The boss was very laid back and probably couldn't give a fuck.

The 2nd was at a rather large insurance firm which has recently changed it's name. All of us lowly peons were just numbers, and it seemed like the big guy (and I mean BIG!) just looked down on everyone....in the unlikely event that he was even there

My current boss the dog's bollocks though. Firm but very fair and always up for a laugh. He will often join the rest of the company for a piss-up on a Friday night and even pays for meals for over 40 staff at our quarterly events.

*relurks*
(porkinator is a Rock n Roll nerd!, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:35, 2 replies)

My Boss's warped viewpoint, Part One
Let's start with my Appraisal last year:

Mad Boss: 'I've marked you 'below target' on client service...
Me: 'Oh, right, I'm a bit surprised by that, as I felt I had a really good relationship with the clients'
Mad Boss: 'Well, I'm basing this on feedback from clients, so obviously there's some issues to work on.'
Me: 'OK, what are the issues.'
Mad Boss: 'Well, let me read you a few quotes...'

So she did. The feedback pretty much all followed the same sort of flow. 'Snowy is doing an excellent job, but there should be more senior representation on the account....'. 'We really appreciate the work Snowy does, but we'd like to see more of Mad Boss'. 'Snowy has done a really competent job considering he's expected to pretty much run the account alone', etc.

Me: 'Erm... seems really positive about me, and bad about you. What's the issue for me?'
Mad Boss: 'Well, clearly, you're going to meetings and not making it clear enough that I'm behind the scenes pulling the strings and that I do loads of work on the account'
Me: 'Erm.. well you aren't behind the scenes on most of the work I do, and secondly, I could tell them what you like but they're obviously not going to buy it when they go months at a time without seeing or hearing from you.'
Mad Boss: 'That's out of order, you don't understand the burden of responsibility I have. I have more important things to do than just work on your accounts and go to your meetings.' (Which is a bit rich considering my accounts were 50% of her responsibility)
Me: 'OK, so how do you suggest I get an 'on' or 'above target' score in six months?'
Mad Boss: 'Your target for the next six months is to make your clients think I'm the person behind the quality of work they receive, and to make it clear at each point that I am the driving force on this account'
Me: So, my target under 'Client Relationships' is to denigrate my own input in order to big you up?'
Mad Boss: (Pause) 'Yes.'
Me: 'I want to move accounts...'
Mad Boss: 'Oh, God, you're so childish sometimes...'

Arrrrgggggggggghhhhhh!

Luckily, no longer work with her and have a nice boss who I get on with much better.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:34, Reply)

We went through a lot of management in my days at argos
And i'm sure i saw more managers than customers.

The one who gave me the job had left before i'd started. Then a new power mad wanker came in. He got slagged off all the time and spent a year trying to get the stock manager fired. Eventually he managed to lull him into a forced resignation and half the staff left because of it.

A new stock manager arrives and we all get on for about 5 mins. He's fresh out of management school and begins to tidy and rearrange the stockroom even though everyone else knew where stuff was casuing chaos and lost stock in the next few weeks. He also set up a "stockroom communication zone" (what?) with task sheets and little tickboxes when we've done it and other figures and numbers we didn't care about. He mysteriously disappered one day after pulling off an elaborate scam involving 40 playstation 3s. He was always a tit anyway. 2 new potential mangers passed through and lasted a week between them before leaving due to 'stress'.

During all that time a new store manager had appeared and started putting up STAFF NOTICES WHICH NOONE CARED ABOUT AND ALL IN CAPS LOCK. He was pretty cool apart from that (because he got us a vending machine mainly) and a team leader became the stock manager. The store was running fine until they took roles at bigger stores.

Finally the scary team leader who had wanted to be store manager since i started finally got the job after 2 years. That was the worst week of my life. Thank god my notice was already in an i was off to uni. My recent return 2 years later and the store's gone to the dogs and all the staff now are slack jawed 17 year olds who don't know a thing about anything.
(Clayman, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:28, 2 replies)

Current Boss
My current boss is, to put it mildly, a cunt.

He's absolutely dedicated to his job, to the detriment of just about everything else in his life. Life to him seems to revolve around the office and his dog.

And the name of this tw@t? Erm. Me.

Oops.
(Eds Meds Mathskillz=1,Socialskillz=0, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:26, Reply)

My Boss...
Was a woman of legend, we worked together in my nearest city, but I really daren't give you any more detail. She still "Works" there, as far as I'm aware. I actually put up with her for 6 months...

I like to drink water as I work and we were working in a late 1960;s building with no aircon. (She insisted that I kept my suit jacket on at ALL TIMES, hence I had a raging thirst) But only in girly size glasses, not pints because "You're customer facing!". My colleague was also customer facing, but she used to just wear a t shirt a skirt and bare (unshaven) legs, I had to be suited and stockinged all the time.

My boss stopped me from using the water cooler, because it was too expensive. I had to drink from the tap in the office, which was warm all the time, because it came from the holding tank in the roof, and was possibly very dangerous to drink from, if not illegal.

I could put up with that apart from having to scrape dried bogeys from the underside of desks in the offices, from being told third hand that I was expected to make all the boss' sales calls when she was on holiday. I could put up with having to cover for her during her extended "paperwork meeting thingy" with her favourite client that went on for hours and hours. (I didn't know paperwork made you sweaty and giggly!)

Her casual racism was just about bearable, I did shout her down a couple of times, but when she referred to the chairman/CEO of the company as "That Fucking Jew!" I realised I had to go...

Length? Oddly, none at all! she's now suffering from stress induced alopecia and is as bald as a pickled onion! get IN!!
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:19, 3 replies)

My old boss
neglected to pay over a grand into my pension, over £600 of which was my personal contribution and deducted from my salary. The last I heard of him was that he'd disappeared to Brazil.

I wish I were joking, I've spent over a year trying to recover the money. I'm starting to suspect that I'll never see it.
( wheresthefish Partly filled with wrong, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:18, 1 reply)

Resigned
Just resigned. The MD says, "We're going to miss you, 27b. It's just like you're one of the team."



Feel I have to mention another former boss. Working at a northern Little Chef many years ago. One day the Chef* doesn't turn up for work. Turns out the night before he tried to kick the bucket and missed. This boss makes him come straight to work from A&E to show him the fresh and weeping stitches. Wow.

* Yes. This is what they were called. With no irony whatsoever.
(27B/6, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:17, Reply)

How to get transferred in one easy lesson
"Is that a newspaper you're reading?"

I looked up from my copy of the Daily Telegraph to see the red face of the boss staring down at me.

"Yes. Yes it is," I replied, deciding it would not be wise to play silly buggers with a senior manager, especially a known spittle-flecked bully whose civil service career had stalled at the Ministry of Cows.

"You KNOW how I feel about people reading newspapers on company time," he said, in a voice that could be heard all the way down in accounts, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's stealing from the company. It's a disciplinary offence."

I turned the page and frowned at the unfunny cartoon, half amused at his description of an office full of civil service layabouts as "the company".

"Well? What have you got to say for yourself?" he boomed, fists clenching and unclenching with anger.

I folded the paper and filed it in the bin. Then, taking a glimpse at my watch, rose from my desk, walked the five yards to the keying-in machine and pushed my yellow plastic key home with a loud "Peep!"

I looked at the boss as if it was the first time I'd seen him.

"Back from lunch. Work to do."

He stormed away, barely able to contain his outrage: "Well... well... Don't do it in work hours. Y'hear?"

Within a week, I was out of his department. Minor WIN.

...And working in the black hole of Accounts with all the other unemployable misfits. FAIL.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:12, 5 replies)

My boss when I worked at a school
fat cunt

embezzler

drove a Merc slk and had three home whilst everyone else in the building had nothing like it including his boss.

Once gave me a written warning for looking on Ebay in my lunch break as it "was conducting personal business"

Told my pregnant friend that her job wouldn't be there when she came back. He then bullied her for the entire duration of the pregnancy to try and make her quit to the point where the local council told him he wasn't allowed in the same room as her. He did all this in front of me so I was called as a witness when it went to tribunal.

Was a general nasty piece of work with at least 5 people pursuing various types of action against him for bullying.

Bought a Maserati.

Got told his liver was fucked

Got busted for loads of the cases against him

Sold the car

Bought a dodgy old Citroen

Has now been told he is dying.

All before his 50th birthday

I almost felt bad for him as I laughed and laughed.

Reading this back I don't think I've made him sound bad enough, he really was the worst type of human being. How he still has his job there I will never know.
( Peej, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:09, 2 replies)

My First Job
Was a summer job for 6 weeks (in between 1st and 2nd years A-Levels).

I worked in a large department store on the furniture department. After an unsuccessful stint in sales (too honest to the customers), a woeful attempt at delivery (put holes in the walls of a newly built house with the wardrobes we were delivering) and a highly suspect few days working in the offices, I ended up as a warehouse monkey looking after the receipt of furniture. This was OK except that the boss was an alcoholic who was totally unpredictable. He was known to attack warehouse staff with whatever implement was handiest, normally a hammer or a crowbar. The other staff had decided that it was my turn to suffer the wrath which would be visited upon the bearer of bad-tidings, namely that an entire shipment of leather furniture had been treated a wee bit roughly. To be honest the whole lot were scratched to fuck. It was therefore with great trepidation that I approached his office with the latest bad news.

I shook my way into his office and blurted the whole lot out in one sentence. “thefurnituresknacked.Allthesetteesarescratchedandsoarethechairsandthepouffeethings.” I shut my eyes and waited. Only for the mad Irish git to say “Here take this.” I opened one eye and spotted the tenner held out. As I took it he said “Get me a bottle of vodka and two of the big packets of felt tip pens from Woollies.”

My job for the rest of the afternoon was to drink vodka with the Irish Loony and colour in the scratches. Surreal to say the least.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:03, 3 replies)

Best man for the job?
Recently at work there have been a spate of emails going round on the departmental mailing list questioning a very shit decision made (dictatorially so) by my boss.

First he ignored our comments and questions.

Second, he sent a passive-aggressive email saying "Please do not use email mailing lists for these types of messages as it's not an appropriate form of discussion. Come and see me individually if you have a problem and we can touch base on this, blah blah."

Yesterday I found out that he asked the sysadmin if group emails of this nature could be banned from mailing lists.

The most worrying thing here isn't that he has not worked out the hows and whys of mailing lists, but that he happens to be head of a fucking computer science department.

Fail.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:03, Reply)

Give it up, love, you're old.
I used to work for this woman who was pushing 40, but not ready to let go of her youth. Of all the staff in the place, she would always try and hang around with the 18 year old kids, and she would desperately try to ingratiate herself into the youthful groups with these god-awful jokes, usually about pokemon.

She was a nice enough person, and a pretty good boss, but the crap she would come out with made you cringe. You just wanted to disappear into a dark hole and not come out till the government ban the over 30's from talking about anything other than mortgages and car repayments.

Of course, now I'm over 30, it's my turn to make you little shitbags cringe in disgust. So.... that Pikachu, eh? Cute little rabbit-thing, isn't she! Found them all yet?
( Damocles wants no part of your debauchery, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:01, 1 reply)

How to get a-head in business
While I was flogging mortgages I had a fucking useless boss named Lynn who looked like a pasty-skinned Mekon wearing a Slash wig. I spent ages trying to figure out why this woman who was scared of operating a calculator was in charge of a bunch of fuckwits who had to crunch numbers all day for a living. To compensate for her inability to do absolutely anything fucking right, she’d regularly go on a mentalist power trip rampage and managed to completely fuck off every fucker in the fucking department, the fucker... Overtime – cancelled. Holidays – cancelled. Lunchbreaks – cancelled. In short, she was was a fucking cunt.

Then on a team building works night out Lynn got really, really, really drunk and spilled the beans. I think she was trying it on with me, but I didn’t fancy adding another lady-who-looks-like-an-alien to my dis(honour) list, not after the Greek girl I fucked in Uni who – when I got her cloths off – actually resembled a fucking big-titted Wookie. Anyway, after that brief drunken conversation with Lynn it all suddenly made perfect sense.

A few days later Lynn and I were running a client meeting; it was going tits up, as these things tend to do when you’ve got someone who’s incompetent, my boss, and someone who’s far too fucking lazy to prepare a proper presentation, me. The clients looked bored and uninterested. I looked bored and hungover. Lynn was fidgeting as if she had a super-sized blood sucking mutant space crabs infestation going on in her knickers. She pulled me to one side and whispered:

“What should I do?” She looked completely and utterly fucking lost. I shrugged. “I need to get them back onside, concentrate on what I’m good at and impress them...” Me, Me, Me – that pretty much summed Lynn up.

I looked over at the group of clients. There were about nine or ten of them sat in a row, wondering what the hell we were whispering about.

I leaned into Lynn and whispered in her ear: “Yeah, but I don’t think you’ve got enough time before lunch to give all these people head. Well, not properly at least. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but two of them are women – do you think you could handle doing some work in the basement on another woman...?”

Then I stood back, regarding Lynn with false concern, then I resumed my place behind the projector, and waited for Lynn’s prompt to continue with the shitty load of old donkey bollocks slideshow.

Lynn looked fucking angry, she throbbed a strange kind of red, but she carried on with the presentation. Warbling her way through in her high-pitched, dolphin-friendly banshee wail, shaking like a heroin addict outside a methodone clinic, sweating like a serial rapist. And, after the presentation when the unimpressed clients got up and left, Lynn didn’t say a word. Not one fucking word. You see, on the night out previously when she was absolutely shitfaced on alcopops and snakebite she’d let it slip she got her promotion by regularly and repeatedly fucking the area manager in a travel inn on the outskirts of town. She’d told me how she was particularly good at sucking the meat lollypop, while she eyed me up suggestively. She even laughed as she retold the tale about the time she got back to her boyfriend’s place with this area manager’s spunk-tacular load drizzled in her hair and down the front of her jacket –

Now, I’ve got to point out the MARRIED area manager must’ve been sixty years old and was the spitting image of David Blunkett (only with working eyes; otherwise I imagine he’d have had a shitload of problems on the motorway and doing that parrallel parking malarkey). I think Lynn was trying to impress me. I was not impressed. Not at all. But this little bit of info gave me the leverage to toss it off (proverbially speaking) at work for the next few months until I decided to go and get a better job.

And the next time I saw David Blunkett aka my area manager in the lift at work, I’d be lying if I didn’t for one fleeting instant consider hitting the emergency button and going to work on his luncheon meat like a rabid dog with a particularly tasty bone - hey, a promotion’s a promotion at the end of the day.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 14:01, 3 replies)

the boss in here
Is a fat megalomaniac with corned beef arms, a hair don't and the gait of a shaven fucking ape.

She still had not mastered bipedal locomotion, yet she still insists on wearing the most unsuitable high heeled 'hoof clogs'.

This causes her 'bits' to jiggle in a most terrifying manner and seeing as how she wears some very inadvisable wardbrode choices, these 'bits' make themselves apparant in all their pasty, corned beef glory.

Her management technique consists of bollocking folk for being seconds late, but not thanking them for staying late.

She has a 'lapdog' called MonkeyBoy, who i am sure i have spoken about before, who fetches her fucking nosebag for her and if the cunt had a tail, he would be wagging it as he does so...

I sincerely hope she gets run over, although it would have to be by a bus, or bigger to stand any chance of running right over her FUCKING LUMPEN HEAD.






.....and, breathe
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:54, 5 replies)

My boss is the laziest bastard in the world
He will do anything to avoid knuckling down and getting on with work - surfing the web for hours, popping outside for a cigarette whenever he fancies, making tea or coffee (but never for anyone else), popping out to the pub, and even taking his dog for a walk. He's also a b3tan, so he's bound to see this.

I'd complain, but it wouldn't do me much good - I'm self-employed and work from home. Yup, I'm my own boss.

I think this post was composed by my conscience...
(Capo, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:39, 1 reply)

The boss was a cunt...
Whilst working for a fairly small self storage company I had a wonderful time with the seniors in my office.

Actually I'm lying.

There was a mixed bunch of us, There was a heavy metal bass player/singer (the one I got on with the best!), a pornography addicted fat bastard (larger than me!) and the biggest clean freak I've ever had the misfortune to meet.

When I joined I was told there would be office banter, fair enough I thought, what's the worst that can happen! Well it turns out that office banter actually turned into "Ridicule Dr.Spack". After being polite and helpful to customers I was always given the same response from my colleagues which was them saying how horrible I'd just been to the customer and that I'd just called them a dog shit eating cunt. Funny for the first few times but after a year I felt like punching someone.

Then there was the utter bollocks I would get from the clean freak AKA the big boss man himself. Everything would have to be 100% dust free and shining otherwise I'd get bollocked. My time spent at the job was that of a glorified cleaner which was bollocks seems as I signed up to be a salesman. So night after night I would be cleaning out storage rooms (which never satisfied the boss) and making sure everything had been faced up ready for the next days business. As hard as I tried all I got was grief because during the night a microscopic organism had ended up on a shelf or some other twattish excuse.

So the year (which was how long I was working there before getting fired, thanks boss!) dragged on and eventually the accident happened (big van with me driving, small ferrari parked next to the vans parking space and wet feet. Make your own conclusion!) £4800 on the insurance later and my time there was limited.

After coming back from holiday I was instantly fired, the cunt (who gleamed as if he bathed in Cillit Bang) could've told me that BEFORE I got to the fucking office.

There are many things I wish I could've said at the time, but being 17 and not one for confrontations I said fine, shook hands with the metal dude and went home.

After a few other shitty jobs there have only been a few managers who have made jobs fun. Working at a paintball site I had a manager who pretty much gave you everything free which was awesome... until he got fired and then we had the freak who felt everything had to have a sign on it took over. My current job has a couple of the best managers though, I get no grief, plenty of help when I need it (financial and other) and the company is amazing. So I piss on the faces of the previous managers who made life shit and carry on marching forwards knowing that my job has a much higher satisfaction rate than theirs.

99.9% of managers are cunts, there are a few exceptions that make boring jobs good fun. Get on with those managers and always know that it could be much much worse out there.

Length, 2 meters between me and the Ferrari before impact.
(Dr.Spack Dr. Lepper! What's the worst that can happen?, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:39, 1 reply)

before my re-lapse to academia
I used to head up the purification department of a small biotherapeutics start-up. Our major candidate on our portfolio was a drug for endemetriosis (look it up if you're male) and I was once sat with my direct boss (head of manufacturing or some such title) in a meeting with a load of venture capitalists trying to blag some more funding. One of them asked how we were planning to administer the drug to keep the dose sensible, and I said we were in the process of developing a two-way tampon, but that in the short term we'd probably use a liquid formulation and vaginal douche.

Whereupon my boss looked surprised (he wasn't really into the drug delivery side of things) and turned to me and said "really, how does that work? do we turn them upside-down and pour it in?"

Genius. How he successfully bred I'll never know. We didn't get any funding out of that meeting. Strangely.
( the mighty badger Aphrodite, on a bar stool, by your side, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:39, 2 replies)

My Boss - World class skiver
She has been with us for over 18 months and has yet to complete a full weeks work.
Excuses include
Working from home today - On too many numerous occasions to come up with any sort of accurate figure
My car has to go to the garage - At least 15 times. If that was your car would you not consider a new one?
I have to wait at home for the plumber/electrician/builder/Jehovah's witness/postman et al. Again at least a dozen incidents
I have to take my niece (aged 22) to the hospital with a 'sore finger' -erm what about this particular adult conveying her own carcass to hospital or maybe her own parents perchance?
Sickies aplenty.

The troops naturally love her - NOT
(Said Debt, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:30, 1 reply)

I've had a mixed bag.
First job was in Woolworths over Christmas a few years back. I was a till monkey and only ever saw him twice, once on my way past his office for an interview and once on my last day when he told me off for stiing in the unused public wheelchair as I'd been stood by the door for all of 7 hours saying "do you want a basket" over and over again.

Next was Pizza Hut, as it was a new branch we all got on pretty well. That was till the main manager was involved in an armed robbery and left soon after.

Costa...just meh.

Wilkinsons...also meh. went from up tight to relaxed, back to up tight quicker than anything.
(tb2571989 dies at precisely, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:27, Reply)

My boss is awesome
Tends to go a bit pale if you mention Purple Aki though.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:26, 3 replies)

He's treating half his staff like shit.
I'm the Union rep.

This will be fun.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:20, 2 replies)

Unemployed
fail
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:16, 3 replies)

Third it seems
edit: I always told myself i wouldnt do that but the sight of a blank page drove me to it
(Banjax, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:10, 1 reply)

Wooo
First Whooooooooooooop

Bugga 2nd
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:10, Reply)

nah
Not first this time?
Edit... I've worked for some shockers, so more to follow
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 13:10, 1 reply)