Clampers
Quite a few years ago now, Mrs. Linbox popped out on Friday night to collect a Chinese takeaway and arrived home in a bit of a state because her car had been clamped. I drove up there to check it out and she had parked in an empty 100+ space carpark opposite the takeaway, which was protected by a private clamping company. I doubt the office occupants intended to prevent people from parking there at night, but the clamper wanted his pound of flesh. Sadly for him, he couldn't produce any ID, so I phoned the police and reported what looked like a giant attempted fraud. God bless 'em, but it must have been a quiet shift because Hampshire plod turned up in droves - three cars, two motorbikes and all of them with their blue lights flashing away merrily for the hour+ they were there, preventing anybody else from getting caught. They made the "operator" get his boss out of a dinner party to answer questions and produce paperwork, before having to admit defeat. After a VERY long time buggering about, I paid the fine.

And wrote down all the contact numbers from the signs in the carpark. And then found out the phone numbers for the head office of the clamping company. And then went into work Saturday morning and fed all the numbers into a computer based dialling system that phoned each number in turn every 15 seconds.

Twenty-four hours a day.

For two weeks.


Take that you fuckers!
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 19:03, 4 replies)

Tits
I once knew a woman with the most delightful, firm, soft-skinned breasts. A real pair of beauties, just perfect for motorboating, as I often did, spending many many happy hours snuggling into them, before shooting my lo.........

What? The "Breasts" QOTW finished weeks ago? So fucking what? I'll post my story when I like, fuck you and your rules!
(Rsoles, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 18:52, 3 replies)

I can never work for ***** again.
About 4 years ago, I had a job that started between 0200 and 0600. The night shift premium ran from 2200 to 0600. To save on paperwork, the firm told me and all the others on the same shift that we would be paid from 0400. Our start times would be rotated so no one would lose money.

With me so far?

That didn't last long. Within weeks, they moved everyone's starts to 0200-0230. However, they were still paying for 0400 starts. Over a month, we were losing on average over £150. I had a look at the contract; nothing there about shorting the wages.

So I went to my line manager and submitted a DPA request for my start times since I joined, my clock times, my gate times and copies of all my wage slips. When I got them (they tried to wriggle but I used a standard form off the web, quoting the Act and the relevant sections), I added up all the missing pay, and submitted it to wages, the site manager, and the union rep.

And the shit hit the fan. The union got in a team who investigated the whole shift, and the one either side. They submitted a claim for a five figure sum in missing pay. The management had to get in consultants to recalculate the whole site's pay since it opened. That increased the claim threefold.

Eventually the claim was settled, and I was summoned to the General Manager's office to hear the formal offer, along with the union. Usual thing, all very polite, thanks for conducting myself in a professional and well mannered fashion, here's your money.

I signed the agreement, and produced my resignation letter. GM's eyebrows went up.

"Why, MrScars? You've got what you came for."

"No offence Dave, but we both know I've added 2% to the gross wage bill for the year. The price of that bill, and the price of your career progression is my head on a stick. I'll save you the trouble, and the stain on your conscience. If you don't want me on the premises, I'll accept gardening leave."

The look on all their faces will keep me warm on my deathbed.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 18:51, 2 replies)

I was pulled over for speeding. What they didn't know was that I had a body locked in the trunk of my car.
OK, so I didn't QUITE stick it to the man, but I was so close...

Many years ago I was driving home from my girlfriend's house when I saw a few mates walking along the road heading for home. They were a bit worse for wear and weaving into the road, so I felt a moral obligation to offer my services as designated driver and get them home safely. But there was a problem. There were five of them, and only four spare seats in my car. What to do? Simples. One of them gets into the boot.

A few minutes later we are merrily driving along when I get flagged over by a policeman. Doing 35 in a 30 apparently (still reckon I wasn't, especially as I'm not sure the car could actually go that fast up hill with that weight, but nevermind). Police officer wants to use the breathalyser on me. Not surprising considering the smell of alcohol so I accept. Of course I give the all clear and we are allowed on our way. At that very moment, the moment I turn the key in the ignition, am about to put my foot to the clutch and slip into first gear. The moment before I pull away my mate in the trunk decides to let out the immortal line:

"Help! They've locked me in here. I can't get out...!"

Bastard.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 18:51, Reply)

I FUCKED A COP
YEAH, THATS RIGHT, I FUCKED A MOTHERFUCKING COP. I FUCKED HIS COP ASS RIGHT UP HIS ASS AND FUCKed HIM. END OF STORY.
( d d, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 18:29, 9 replies)

I participated in Draw Mohammed Day
and (inasmuch as I could without the holy blessing of breasts) Jen McCreight's Boobquake event. Perfect examples of showing the petty, the small minded, the controlling and the weaselly - global analogues of yer basic appalling wee shite of an office manager - exactly where they could shove it.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 18:10, 2 replies)

Balls Up
A student (A grades, exceptional attitude, member of teams yadda...) told me she had been picked as one of ten kids from the school to speak to the Rt Hon Ed Balls back when he was still important. She asked me what she could ask him. I replied with "Is his home Wakefield as he claims, or down in London where he sends his kids?" and "Why do you and your wife spend so much of the taxpayers money?" as a playful joke.

Except she then looked up what I was talking about online, and entered the interview with a raft of uncomfortable questions. The headmaster yanked her out of there after two questions described by the politics teacher as "toe-curling perceptive".
( Rev. A-MOL is lurking around these parts again, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:54, 2 replies)

This might have been more suitable for the last qotw.
Called a floating manager an 'obnoxious little turd' (because that was exactly what he was) and stormed out of work early. He tried to block my exit, so I screamed at him until he relented. I reported the incident to the area manager (my normal manager urged me not to, saying that I should just let it lie and be glad nothing further happened, but fuck that - floating cunt manager was going to pay!), who gave floating cunt manager an official verbal warning. Ha. I left that job soon after because I'd had enough anyway, and area manager said I'd be welcome to come back if ever I wanted to, because I was a hard worker.

Don't bully your underlings. Not all of them will roll over and take it.

EDIT: I've read this again in the cold light of day and it makes me sound a total bell-end. ): I don't go around calling people shits just for the hell of it; this happened at the arse end of two consecutive days of bullying, to me and to my colleagues, and I just fucking snapped.
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:51, 2 replies)

An old favourite
I always poo at work. Not only do I save money on toilet paper and water but I'm being paid to do it!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:44, 5 replies)

I stuck it to a man once…
… scrubbed my cock raw afterwards.
( Ungersven would support SpankyHanky's patreon, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:39, Reply)

I charge my mobile phone at work.
That's literally a fraction of a penny that I don't have to pay. Ha!
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:39, 4 replies)

Honda Accord.

( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:37, 1 reply)

Stinking it to the man
Trying to get off a train. A big fat business man is sat halfway on his seat, halfway in the aisle, elbows pointed out because fuck you I'm a big fat business man, this is *my* space and *I* deserve it (don't ask why I'm not in first class).

It's clear he's not going to lean even out of the way, or even tuck his arms in. All the disembarking passengers are going to have to slowly shufflesqueeze past him.

I don't want to have say something to him and cause a scene, but really he is being a tit and someone should be told by someone ... perhaps ... a my rectum someone.

The fart is silent, I leave the train. The fat man gets to sit in my karmic poohgas.


3 years later the banking system collapsed. Sorry about that.
(teebie jeebie, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:35, Reply)

The Place: Small supermarket branch in the UK. The Time: The morning of the second Sunday in November.
The Background: Quoting Wikipedia; "In the United Kingdom, although two minutes of silence are observed on 11 November itself, the main observance is on the second Sunday of November, Remembrance Sunday."

(skip to end for summary)

As the shift began early that morning, we asked the boss what the plans were for later on. We were told that company policy was for the silence to be observed only on the 11th, a couple of days previously, and that we were to keep trading as normal today. He was one of the better managers, known to sometimes break unjust rules in the interests of his staff; and he seemed to be making it clear that this was what only the company wanted, distinct from his own opinions; maybe that's what triggered what happened later.

Mutters of discontent led into a rebellious air as the morning progressed. Due to the circumstances of rota and timing; most of us Sunday shift staff had not been on duty on the 11th itself, so (aside from wearing poppies) we hadn't yet been able to show respect in some small way by laying down tools. Many of us were angered at headquarter's apparent fear of 'losing' even a couple of minutes-worth of profits - I mean, if someone's already in the shop at the time, they 'd just be paying slightly later; so where's the harm?. The dissent crystallised into rare agreement amongst the workforce: in a feat of unified rebellion not seen before or since; we decided to do it anyway, and to heck with what the company wanted. Although it barely compares, it was sort of our own 'christmas armistice'.

10:58 clicks over to 10:59; and we're underway. We see the boss is safely out of the way doing paperwork in his office; he's a half-decent one, but he's still a manager. With few words and knowing nods, we move into final position; most workers to stand by at the checkouts, me to the front door to discretely intercept people as they enter. A radio, smuggled out the warehouse, is switched on for timing.

11:00 arrives, in the broadcast from distant whitehall, the cannon fires then the radio falls silent; the conveyor belts are switched off, cashiers and customers join in dignified silence. A couple of customers wander in during the next two minutes, but with a simple gesture to my watch they immediately understand and join us.

11:02 arrives, "Last Post" starts playing; with honour satisfied and dignity intact we start things up again. I'd like to have done more, it felt wrong not to wait at least until "The Rouse", but we're not on parade and we're pushing our luck as it is. The manager had CCTV monitors in his office, but if he saw anything he wisely said and did nothing about it. Sometimes I think he expected defiance and just let us get on with it. But in any case:

That year, at least in our branch; a disgraceful order was soundly ignored, and the wheels of commerce were briefly paused while respect was paid.

(summary: Shop staff unite to disobey direct order not to show respect)
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:29, 5 replies)

Here are your mushrooms sir....
A few years ago, a friend and I were waiting at the train station for an impromptu night out in Lincoln - we had our party prescriptions and were ready to go, only thing to do now was make an extended magical cigarette on the train platform, smoke it and wait for the train.
Our actions didn't go un-noticed by one of the employees of the train station though - he queried our actions and we replied in the negative (a bold faced lie).
Next thing we know, two British Transport Police officers were at our side, also querying our actions - I had the offending article in my hand at the time, and with slyness that would put Fantastic Mr. Fox to shame, I hid it under the bench - right under their noses.

My friend got searched, and they found some little fellows and a brown lump of something suspicious that weighed approximately half an ounce in his wallet.

They proceeded to search me, and all they found on my person was a paper bag containing 20 english pounds-worth of psychedelic tropical mushrooms.
At the time, you could buy these over the counter in head shops around the country, and the officer had to give me them back, with them being as legal as a loaf of bread.

My friend wasn't so lucky, however - he was taken to the local station and cautioned - they released him the same night, I huddled over in the bench, retrieved my smoke and waited for him to get back -
Did we learn our lesson? Did we hull - we went back out for a repeat prescription and off to Lincoln we went, and had a bloody good night.
(Davethefan began lurking again on or around, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:10, 4 replies)

The bus driver on First Buses wouldn't take my fiver because it had a small rip in it
I showed him the metal strip, water mark, serial numbers etc and told him that he wasn't accepting a perfectly legal note for no good reason and told him that I would be late for work, he told me this was not his problem I called him a jobsworth. I wrote and complained. I wrote that if their policy was not to take ripped notes then fair enough but make it clear because a note with a small tear in it is still legal. What isn't fair enough is for their drivers to tell people that them being late for work is "Not their problem" I wrote that if they offer a service to the public then it probably is in their best interests to make it their problem if people don't want to be late for work.

I was sent an apology assurances that the driver would be told that his comments were unacceptable and trained on which notes were acceptable because according to their policies if a bank will take it so will they. They also sent me £10 in free travel vouchers which I took great pleasure in only using when I had the same driver again. I stuck it to him goshdarnit!
( Peej, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 17:08, 1 reply)

Merry Christmas!
Not quite in the angry spirit that the phrase 'sticking it to the man' suggests, but on my last day working on the factory floor packing speciality gift boxes of fruit and nuts I stuck little stickers under all the foil liners of the wooden trays that day with little messages

"It's my last day! WOO!"
"Merry Christmas"
"Hand-packed specially for you"
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:52, 1 reply)

Not a massively interesting story (perhaps not that relevant either) but....
A long time ago I had my first car, it was lovely and as a special deal I got to put 5 people on the insurance. I put my dad on as that seemed logical in case he needed it in an emergency and my brother (who is a cunt) offered to pay me money if I put him on, oh good deal I thought.

Anyway to cut a long story short, my brother proceeded to borrow the car without asking, day after day I would wake up to find it gone, or only come home to pick something up to find he had jumped into it while the engine was running and drive off. All the while my parents telling me to calm down and to learn to share.....

Anyhow one day I got a letter from the local council, apparently I had been parking my car day after day on double yellow lines, pay and display car parks and private parking spaces all across the city without paying the appropriate fees and racked up over £500 in parking tickets.

'Fuck you' I thought so I wrote off to them explaining that my car has over 5 people on the insurance and that anyone of them could have been driving it on the dates they had provided, if they wished I would relay them the addresses of said named drivers (some family didn't live at home at this time). They wrote back saying that it was I that had to do the detective work as I was the registered owner of the car or else I would have to pay, a quick chat to my dad's solicitor quickly proved them wrong.

Every now and again they still send a letter asking my mum, dad or aunt about the dates in question, over 12 years later, and they say we need to stop the councils wasting money.

Years later I helped 'the man' by dobbing my brother in on the illegal loans he took out in my name and my dad's, so it all balances out.
( Bamboo Steamer, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:48, 3 replies)

Leaving a game at Twickenham not long after the G20 protests last year,
we were subjected to the usual herding along the fenced in pavements toward the town centre. One rebel thought that he'd walk along the road until he was ordered to make his way on to the pavement with the rest of the scum. However, as he was hopping the barrier one of the coppers grabbed him halfway across and tried to drag him back onto the road possibly severely injuring his nuts. Clearly the officer forgot to perform a risk assessment before acting.
Anyway, seeing this my mate pipes up (a naval term you'll know if you've just been watching countdown) "Leave it out! it's not the G20 you know", a mild mannered joke we thought as we chuckled away. But no, apparently it was a far more serious offence and prompted a mounted sergeant major type to trot over summoning us like a pair of schoolboys and threatening to lock us up if we didn't come. Fair to say we took the bait and spent the next 5 minutes explaining that it was our democratic right to make sarky comments and that we were actually causing less of a disturbance than he was. We did have to concede that having had a couple of beers we would be over the drink drive limit, although sergeant big nob didn't pursue this line of prosecution when we questioned its relevance to walking along the pavement.
After a while he was seen to be tiring and two of his subordinates had to come over to help. One of them threatened me with arrest for obstruction until he too was intellectually over powered by my pointing out the clear two feet of space in front of me and asking how much space he needed to get past. Eventually the mounted officer (or his horse) got bored and wandered off, the other two having absolutely no idea what we were supposed to have done wrong either sheepishly found something else to do.
My pal and I were left to congratulate each other all the way to the pub. Drunken idiots: 1, Filth: nil.
(GesticularDancer is sorry if my jokes been done better before, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:39, Reply)

I'm a terrible bastard
when it comes to this stuff, and I just won't let things go if I think I've been "wronged" by "authority".

I had a parking ticket last year for parking on double yellows - to be fair, the double yellows were very, very faint and along the same stretch of road there were cars parked all along, so I figured that it must be ok to park there.
I appealed the ticket on the grounds that I simply couldn't have seen the lines when I parked their (at night) and took photos of the lines at night to show how faint they looked.
This all fell on deaf ears, so I appealed again, this time on the grounds that there were no t-bars at either end of the lines and that the road lead onto a private road - so a no-through-road, and thus very little traffic to worry about keeping the flow of.
Again, this was refused.

By then, this was getting on my goat...my heels were dug in firmly, and rather than pay the 35 quid (which would, to be honest, have been the easier option), I was prepared to go to an adjuidicator/court/younameit in order to fight it.
I wrote back, exclaiming the futility of having my appeals read by someone who has a vested interest in my paying the fine, I wrote that the lines were barely visible, I wrote that the amount they fined me was wrong etc....
They sent a Notice To Owner. Which was riddled with errors.
I wrote back, including a copy of their NTO which I'd marked in red pen, showing the errors, legal inaccuracies etc...

I got a letter back saying "No further action will be taken".

In other words, "Oh, FFS! Will you just F*** OFF!"

A year later, it turns out someone else had been nicked along the same road and didn't take too kindly too it - they had even more time on their hands than I did.

The yellow lines have been painted over now - the road in question is actually a private road, and as such the council have no agreement or remit to put lines there at all!

I'm a petty, troublesome little git sometimes!
(dchurch bah, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:39, Reply)

I once
had to hand out stickers on a training day decribing what each member of our company did, this is the only time i have ever stuck IT to the man :( Mostly the man sticks it to me... all the fucking time. Liked the post about setting up a consumer group to fuck the banks over but when I tried to recoup my bank charges they told me to fuck off...sort of
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:26, Reply)

Have a pea
In mid 2005 I changed jobs and went to a crappy little place that never paid wages on time and was a dingy crap-hole.
The first time I was due to be paid it was about 7 days late, meaning that all my direct debits etc... bounced. The bank charged me about 400 quid that month.
This continued for about the next 13 months, until I read a few books about contract law and discovered that to penalise a party to a contract for a breach was unlawful. I wrote to the bank and told them this and demanded the dosh back (about 6k by this point). They refused, and ultimately I sued them in the county court.
Their solicitors wrote to me and demanded that I withdraw. I refused. They paid up in full, but part of the settlement was that I agree to confidentiality.
I told them that if they wanted to keep their dirty little secret that it would cost their client 50k.
They refused (and just paid up) on the grounds that their client didn't believe I could cause them 50k's worth of damage.

So I set up a website (consumer action group if anyone's interested), letting people know about how to get their dosh back from banks if they'd been charged.

I advertised it, phoned newspapers, wrote to the CAB, MP's etc...

I now have 140,000 - (now, 260,000) members and have cost the banks at least 100 million quid in the last 2 years.

That'll learn the f*ckers!

(sadly I don't think it will - 100 million is bugger all to these money grabbing capitalist scum - still I like to think it at least hurts a little)
(dchurch bah, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:16, 12 replies)

Well, I'm normally a reasonable bloke
but one day, I was driving along, with my girlfriend (who's a model), in my special edition Accord...

[section removed for brevity]

...now, that was their FIRST mistake....

[section removed for brevity]

...needless to say, I had the last laugh, and won the court case, and got eleventy million quid from damages....

[section removed for brevity]

...but they wouldn't let it drop, so I ended up having to go around and beat up The Man...

[section removed for brevity]

Cheers.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:10, 9 replies)

Student Finance England
Anyone who knows anyone who's had to apply for student finance through them will understand what I mean when I say I'd almost rather go without student loan than deal with them.

Apologies for lateness, I've been on hold to their call centre for the past week.
(epinephrine, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:07, 4 replies)

McDonalds Breakfast
Getting two sausage patties instead of one!

Made my year that did.
(wambam Thank you! Young man., Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:07, 5 replies)

I bought a return bus ticket
And happened to get a lift home from a mate.

HA! In your face FirstBus.


Hang on a minute - that's not right is it?
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:07, 4 replies)

I'll get you Blakey
and I did
(Biff..., Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:02, Reply)

2nd boo :(

(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:02, Reply)

foist!
Woo yeah!

As an aside I once had a wank whilst thinking of the police woman in the flat downstairs. And she was a lesbian. In your face pigs!
(Discocat is bringing sexy back, Thu 17 Jun 2010, 16:02, 1 reply)