explosives....
some many years ago I was an explosives counter & bullet checker: as XXXX came into the UK their ordnance was offloaded, checked & reloaded, I was that person & was bored F stiff, & after the usual four recounts cause the re counts I worked with couldn't count properly etc. I got nasty bored.
I'd smuggle a biro in to the shop, take out the writing bit, push it into the plastic and hey presto! fun could be had-after amassing a dozen or so biros worth, eh?
cordite? couple of yards here, couple of yards there, primers? no probs: part of the job was checking that 'stuff' still worked, so over use priming caps etc.
& thats why ******** had a few decapitated trees, blown up derelict buldings (social service work that is) & people who pissed me off had large bang occurrences at 2-3 a.m. on a fairly irregular basis.
porn collection? did i mention that? one day I papered an attic into a spunkhouse = wall to wall tits n ass, 360degrees of booty, well, I was young.
my boss was a smackhead who'd nod between 10 & 12, so I glued his feet to the floor. would write myself days out on his paper + overtime natch. did the hand in a bowl of warm water thing too-it works-he wet himself but being a smackhead he just thought that was part of the gouch.
enough.
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 9:58, Reply)

This is pretty sad
But in order not to get fired for being seen to be reading b3ta all day I copy a page at a time and email it to myself. That way I can view it at the bottom of my screen and to everyone else it just looks like I'm looking at Outlook.

Posting this has made me realise how lame I am.
(Creamy Discharge Freeze Motherstickers, this is a fuck up, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 9:13, Reply)

The washing machine trick
First post and had to share this.

Used to work Summers in a factory when i was a young student years ago.

Old guy who was the company handyman/goffer was a right miserable old bastard who complained about these student spongers and general layabouts. Dispite the fact that as temp summer workers we had all the shit jobs for less pay than the ful time staff.

Now he spent most of his days holed up in his little room/workshop and moaned at anybody who disturbed him.

One of this miserable cunts jobs was to wash all the overalls and he had a washing machine in his little room.

Me deciding he needed taught a lesson opened the drawer where you put the powder in and using a hose filled the whole machine up with water. With the maching full of water looking at the little porthole window there was no line of water to see as it had been filled right to the top.

Said old miserable bastard walks over to the machine, presses the button to open the door and with the weight of water behind in the door fires open like a bullet and gallons of water flood out knocking the old cunt on his arse.

Oww how we laughed, then as our contract was up and about to leave i so enjoyed telling him it was me...
(mabazaritchie ...Its not rape if she cums first..., Wed 15 Aug 2007, 9:08, Reply)

Five Finger Opportunist
Someone told me that in his last job, some guy worked late, went into his bosses office and had a tug over a picture of 'Mrs Boss'. She must've been a bit of a babe as he spat his Jiz on the framed photo and left it on the desk.

A number of staff were questioned, but he was the prime suspect (having set the alarm that night). When questioned on whether this was his 'liquid', he replied "yeah .... so what?".

Amazingly, he kept his job and became an office hero.
(Mozchops ... just not in the face, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 8:49, Reply)

I had a piccy of another member of staff, emailed to me for doctoring purposes.
So I doctored it. And emailed the team with the resulting image, which got a cheap laff. Then I doctored it again. And again. And about 50 more times.

He made an official bullying complaint, where I got taken to a meeting. The management involved looked at the evidence and pissed themselves laughing all the way through the proceedings. My honest reply was to send me pics of someone else's head and I'll do that instead; I've only got his from the team. So the management did, and I'm still here randomly doctoring stuff for anyone :)
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 8:15, Reply)

Booker
I spent the majority of my teenage years working in a Cash and Carry whose staff and customers showed little or no respect for any of the simple peons. The wage was also pretty tom tit, even for my age at the time! Therefore I decided to nick everything I could possibly get my hands on! How could they miss it, I hear you ask. Very easily. They only did stock once every six months! So I stole boxes upon boxes of Cadburys Fingers and cases of illicit Jack Daniels, all the while doing bugger all except pick my hoop and listen to my iPod whilst on the shop floor and point customers in the wrong direction. The beauty of this however wasn't in the selling of these things to my local corner shop, or even the fact that to this day I haven't been found out. It was the fact I eventually got fired for not turning up for a 3 hour shift on the quietest night of the week. My reason? I was playing at Murrayfield in the Scottish Cup Final.

They didn't understand.
(TheVomitingCavalier entered one image challenge and failed miserably, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 3:45, Reply)

I work in a department store
and I said to a customer, "Y'know, if you had a REAL Louis Vuitton handbag it wouldn't be falling apart like that."
( cynfulcynner ...another American nutter, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 0:46, Reply)

Good times...
When I was still in school and too young to work behind a bar, I took one of the only two jobs avaliable to me in our village - waitor in the village hotel (the other being paper boy, and I was far too fucking lazy).

Made friends with 2 total nutters, Murray and Dave. These boys were brilliant. Used to play drinking games if it was quiet - one of them involved assigning different spirits to numbers 1 to 6, then rolling a dice and seeing what you would have to take a shot of. Also played 'Who can down the most minging cocktail' which should be self-explanitory. I particularly remember a foul concoction of advocaat, vodka, gin and white wine.

Usually these on-the-job drinking sessions were followed by a flour fight. We'd run through the kitchens, fucking legless, chucking handfulls of flour at each other's black trousers. I always got the funniest looks when I went out to serve the customers. I regularly took unauthorised breaks to smoke a cig, or sometimes a cheeky joint, out the fire door. We stole food, ashtrays, cigars, and shitloads of drink. The night always ended with us in the swing park, enjoying our stolen bottle of vodka.

In the end, I did get fired - for wearing training shoes to work! Fucking training shoes! After everything that had happened, it was a bit of an anticlimax.

Haven't spoken to Murray or Dave in a while, but I can safely say they were the greatest workmates I've ever had.

Here's to you, lads
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 0:08, Reply)

Ambo’s firing offence.
Not so much me, but I was once witness to a firing offence. I was driving to work one morning a few years ago, and as I turned a corner I was greeted with the sight of a rather long row of cars, trucks and vans. Great! Traffic was bumper-to-bumper and crawling along somewhat slowly, so I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be a tad late for work. We crept along for about five minutes or so, until I finally saw the reason for the delay. Some poor guy had come off his motorbike and was laying flat on his back on the road being comforted by a couple of people, his leather jacket folded neatly under his head.

Traffic snaked by the scene cautiously, until the siren of an approaching ambulance was heard. Around the corner I saw it coming at what I considered to be significant speed, and it drove straight over the motorcyclist’s outstretched legs. The poor bastard sat bolt upright and let out the most blood-curdling scream, I was scarred for life. So much for professional standards!
(Cogitator, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 23:49, Reply)

I work from home for myself
So the freedom to do amazingly in-appropriate things is too far too tempting.

Apart from spending the entire working day naked, or speaking to customers whilst having a shit, i excelled this week by opening up all the mail and trying each envelope on as a hat one by one. It took half an hour and it was completely worth it.

(and if you're stuck for a balaclava, A4 brown envelopes with the see-through window is perfect)
( MrGomez and David Bellamy's big pubey beard, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 23:28, Reply)

well
I received an incredibly snotty email off one of the company directors this morning, mainly because I had the sheer fucking cheek to do my job correctly and not send sensitive company information to some random cunt simply because he asked.

So

I am going to spend the next few days thinking of innovative ways I can abuse my IT-related powers to exact revenge.

Suggestions are welcome, I really want to *earn* my sacking.
( Kroney, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 22:47, Reply)

Because I get paralysed by fear
I'm so inherently insecure that I'm convinced that whatever I do, I'll mess it up.

Then eventually, as the deadlines approach, my fear of pissing people off overcomes my fear of messing up. I then work like a hound, stressed out, shouting at people around me and generally being a bastard. I get the job done, it works, and everyone seems happy.

Except me.

Because I know if I could kill the terror I'd be able to be better than just OK. Or less stressed out.
(clopinettes, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 22:21, Reply)

Customer Service, who needs it?
I used to work in the wonderful world of Asda, where I got what I considered the cushy job of working in the Entertainment and Electronics dept. What was for the most part a piss easy job of just papping CDs and the like onto the shelves was often punctuated with irritating cries of, "DO YOU KNOW THAT SONG WHAT WAS ON THE TELLY?" and other moronic questions.
One guy that came in had apparently been bothering staff for months but had elected me to be his victim for the day, with his sidekicks Wife in a Shopping Buggy Because She's Too Lazy to Walk (tm) and their quite clearly handicapped child, nestled on his mother's lap dribbling away quite happily.
Now, the mix up began when I tried explaining to the guy that when a phone says "blu-tooth" on the box, it doesn't actually mean it comes with a hands free headset, which is something quite different. Easy enough to understand you'd think? No.

When I told him he'd have to buy a headset seperately he started ranting and raving about rip-offs and false advertising and suchlike before insisting that it was me who was wrong and that I was an idiot who didn't know what I was talking about. I told him to "Go ahead and make a complaint if it'll get you the hell away from me" to which he just got angrier and angrier. Cue his buggy-ridden-but-nothing-really-wrong-with-her wife butting in with, "Excuse me, you can't say that to my husband and your shouting is upsetting my child!"
Taking one quick glance I blurted, rather stupidly, "How the fuck can you tell, he's had the same spacky look on his face since you came in!?"

My gf still brings it up whenever we meet new people, as to how I hate disableds and all.

They ended up receiving an (unsigned) standard apology letter from asda and some free vouchers. The manager was grinning into her sleeve when she was supposed to be giving me a formal warning.
Quit a few months later anyway but not before playing Peaches, "Fuck the Pain Away" over the radio.
(baldylocks, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 22:15, Reply)

When I were a young'un
I struggled to think of stuff I'd done that was even remotely mischievous (I'm a bit of a wuss) but I remembered a few things from the part time jobs I had at weekends and as a student.

Fun time-wasting activities included trolley jousting, seeing how high we could climb the racking, going to the furthest end of the stockroom to "look for an item" and sitting drinking tea, pretending we couldn't find items when customers were rude as fook, tying people to shelves in the stockroom with cable ties, trying to fit people through the hole in the top of the step ladder (and getting stuck), having a bit of naughty fun in the stockroom...this was all teenage-ness though. The job wasn't that bad, it was the customers that made it soul-destroying.

However my second job for a well known supermarket sucked ass. In the end I got so fed up I just didn't go in. I'd had some time booked off as annual leave and I didn't go back when I was supposed to. Good thing was, I'd been such a goody two shoes the entire length of my employment that I just said I thought I'd booked the time off and they believed me.

I love my current job, with the exception of the internet allowance. They've completely blocked B3ta under the category "Tasteless", which I had to laugh at!
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 21:50, Reply)

i work every thursday and sunday
so yes i go out every wednesday and saturday night
get about 3 hours sleep then turn up pissed
:D
( m-a-t-t -- formerly mini hasn't been on here for EVER!, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 21:25, Reply)

quite simple really...
... I had an 'doctor's appointment' yesterday. and I got the good news today that I'll have another, second appointment next week.

Click 'I like this' if you want me to tell my female boss en detail about my 'urologist's appointment'.
( bierbelly, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 20:23, Reply)

not me...
but someone i know used to work in his SU Bar at uni. He worked out a scam where he would collect all the dregs etc from people's glasses at the end of the night and fill up an empty (real ale) barrel with them. When this barrel was full he would then send it back to the manufacturers claiming it was "off" when he opened it. This way he was refunded and sent a new barrel. They only got wise to it when a (stupider) colleague of his decided to empty the mop bucket water into the barrel, and the brewery, while conducting tests as to why the barrel had gone off, found cleaning products in the barrel. And that was the end of it. I must say in his defence that he was investing the money earned in this way back into the bar...not a bad person really!

oh, and my first post, be nice etc etc.
(Katurian, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 20:00, Reply)

Why?
Well, I'll begin.
She was a musty girl, for a waitress.
Twice the size of the common man but with a suprising girth that would make any suiter flinch.
She strolled from room to room breathing her eggy breath on all who looked upon her and let me tell you many a man looked upon her as did the others.
The others, where to begin?
Well, they were a hairy gaggle, with suprisingly large teeth and a flash of brown hair upon there beautiful faces.
I worked at the dam for fourteen years and never heard one of them complain, just splashed about doing their own thing really.


Actually, it might have been 'otters' upon further reflection.
Another decade wasted.

Pah.
(jindodsdadsdogsdead I am not stusut79, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 19:25, Reply)

Me dad's mate from work should have been fired
As it goes, he's now retired (oohh, unintentional rhyme). A guy called R (not naming him), very nice bloke, but doesn't take to abuse too well.

Me dad and R worked for the council delivering and installing medical equipement for the disabled and the elderly in South Wales. One afternoon they are both in the depot standing there talking about something when behind them rolled a silent angry customer in a wheelchair. He rolls up behind R (who is totally unaware of this guy behind him), then grabs using his fingernails Rs inside calf and digs his fingers in hard, while saying "Oih you lazy bastard, why the fuck aren't you doing any..."

He didn't get any further. R slapped the cripple's hand off his leg, spun around, gripped the back of the wheelchair bound blokes head with one hand and drilled him with about 7 punches with the other. R and me dad both legged it sharpish onto the next workload, leaving this cripple unconcious in the workbay.

How the fuck R got away with this is beyond belief, but apparently that guy in the chair had been abusing staff there for yonks and completely deserved it.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 19:14, Reply)

Thanks
To everyone who sent me messages regarding my post(http://www.b3ta.com/questions/whyishouldbefired/post86593/), I'd like to say thanks for your advice. It's been slightly resolved now as I've got another interview tomorrow (yay) and I've taken time off because my pet died (not yay)
(missc, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 18:51, Reply)

As a former teenage intern...
I was unbelievably attracted to a co-worker, her name was Alison. She was a brunette woman, elegant, 7 years my senior and with some extremely dangerous curves.

One particualr day, she looked more beautiful than ever. Being the sexually frustrated teen that I was; I did the only reasonable thing that was left to do: I had a BIG wank straight into a filing cabinet. Right into some attorney documents too.

I'd love to see the look on the poor soul's face that opens that folder.
(The Horizontal Monster Mash Mr. T Pitties Me, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 18:08, Reply)

Milky cocks
I work for a large, pseudo-Italian coffee shop chain that shall remain nameless (it might rhyme with "Foster"...). I do very little work even at the best of times, and find that much of the work I do actually do is criticized anyway for not meeting whichever senseless new rule they've bought in that week. For example, they have banned 'latte art' on their coffees. Latte art basically entails drawing shapes on top of the drinks using the frothed milk, common ones being hearts, apples and even ferns. However, in my own special way, I have been doing my best to fight against this bureaucratic rule-mongering and tarnish the image they work so maintain. How you ask? By drawing big milky cocks on top of people's drinks of course! I then sprinkle on a touch of chocolate powder to add 'pubes' and then you have the perfect 'cockaccino'. Somehow, I haven't been caught yet. Perhaps because most people are too polite to complain? Or maybe people just see the funny side of it?
(HNGTHDJ, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 17:57, Reply)

I'm Not Coming Out!!!
RachelSwipes post about agrophobia reminded me of a job I did once.

Basically, the company I worked for won a contract to supply computers and associated peripherals to disabled home-workers. My job was to deliver and setup the equipment, test that everything worked and make sure the modem links back to head office worked and then fuck off. (Some other dude had to train these monkeys thank God.)

So one day I rocked up this house and rang on the door-bell. No answer which was odd seeing that this lady had agrophobia so I was pretty sure she was home. So I rang again and heard:

"Go away - I'm not coming out!!!"

"I don't want you to come out love - I'm here to setup your computer equipment.."

"No!No!NO! - Go away! I'm not coming out...."

And I got the giggles....Everytime I tried to get her to open the door and let me in she'd screech "I'm not coming out" and I'd get the giggles really. really badly. I know it sounds cruel, mocking the afflicted, but you should have been there.

Cheers

_{I'm not coming out....}

( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 17:54, Reply)

I should be sacked
I'm a supply teacher so I'm on my hols at the moment. My mum is paying me to paint the house though. I've been sleeping til 10 and tooling around on the net by day and drinking myself stupid by night.

Fanks mum!



Actually I should get to it. She comes to visit on Friday.
(Medibot, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 17:42, Reply)

for gross lack of sympathy with my nutbar clients
the other day a guy comes in to see me. he would have brought his wife, but she has agoraphobia. which instantly makes me think "get over it love" because i'm nice like that.

so he's complaining because his poor innocent neighbour wants to build an extension and one window might just overlook his land. which would mean his wife could never leave the house.

thinking the best thing for his wife involves a shovel and a deep hole, i cut through his invective and say carefully:

"what kind of an individual are we dealing with here, mr x?"

"a horrid little man," mr x splutters indignantly, stuffing the firm's luxury chocolate biscuits into his gob. "let me tell you that it nearly killed my poor wife seeding our lawn in her condition. and what did he do? i'll tell you what he did."

i wish you fucking would, i nearly said, but bit my pen instead and took a gulp of water.

"he threw bread crumbs all over it to make the pigeons come and eat it!" mr x squeaked.

i promptly choked, did the elephant trick, spat water elegantly all over him and myself because i found it so funny.

i had a client this morning who was less funny and more disturbing. he was an indian guy, and on the way out, he clasped my hands and exhorted me fervently never ever to "trust a paki or a brown lawyer".

ffs. what do you say to that?! racist old tool.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 17:31, Reply)

Not the worst job in the world but close enough
I used to work in a popular high street shop that sells underwear, sextoys and such like. It was seriously sick inducing being populated with fat chavs trying to fit into pvc, so one day when it was quiet I stole all of the batteries from all of the sextoys, cue much anger from the lady in charge as the chavs came back to complain that their rabbits didnt vibrate. So worth it. :)
(Waxing an owl, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 17:26, Reply)

I work in the IT department for a Uni
I sohuld get fired for looking at nuddy pictures o stundents on their laptops (inc more than just solo modeling /nudge nudge wink wink)

No worry about begin fired. My boss is the one that showed them to me :)
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 16:58, Reply)

Never fuck with your IT Manager
In the 3 and half long shitty years at the company where I have worked, I have come to the reasonable conclusion that its;
1. Shit
2. The managers / directors are wankers
3. Health and safety is none existent. (Rainwater dripping onto 3 phase electrical equipment, anyone?)

But, the whole of the case comes to times when I have rolled in late due to large quantities of alcohol has caused me to oversleep a little, and hence rolling up 15 - 20 min after I should have been there, and on times, ever longer.
Reason for not being sacked? A combination of being only person knowing what they was doing with a SQL database project and utter utter pure luck.

But, the creme de la creme charge must be the reason why you should get sacked in your resignation notice period.You hand in the aforementioned resignation, and your boss, a director then proceeds to ignore you and generally act the twunt as usual..... and you have words with someone in a closed door office, ranting about what a wanker he is, that if I could get away with it then I'd have gardening leave, arg, what a twunt etc etc.... and he then comes in.
And slams the door.
And sits down, looking very fucking smug indeed.

'Oh Shit' thinks I, I'm going to be fucking sacked before I can leave, and he will rape me with his pivot tables and budget charts.
So, I do the only think reasonable at that point.
Tell aforementioned Director he is a rude, ignorant wanker, who should know better, and that I'm very, very pissed off.

He apologises and walks off.
That was at 10am, it now nearly 5pm, and he's been rather nice to me since. Anything to do with he didn't have any internets today so couldn't do factory payroll? And I spend all my fucking lunch fixing internets?

Aye - try and sack me ya bald ginger cunt - I've still got server passwords, and a BIG FUCK OFF magnet ready to be thrown in the tape box in the safe.

Roll on 31st August.
( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 16:50, Reply)

Stop the line, it's gonna fall off!
I was a student and trying to find a legitimate way of earning money while back home for the summer. I hit on working in a chicken factory along with my mates Luke and Darren.

To begin with this was ok; the line I was on was Southern Fried Chicken - it was warm, dry and easy.

Then things went wrong. The line broke down and we were dispatched to do the menial tasks. Luke, and I had fun; we had a water fight with high pressure hoses, pissed about with blowtorches, did the jobs and went back to the line. It was still broken. People were wandering off at random for breaks but didn't tell us and by this time the warmth was becoming stifling, and we were becoming less and less comfortable. When the permenant staff came back, they started to laugh at us.

Naturally, my response was to say "You call us wankers, but you're middle aged, work in a chicken factory and earn £200 a week. Who's that wanker again?" The arrogance of youth naturally went down like a lead ballon with these hardened chicken fanciers.

The line cranked back into action at about 11, and we began to work; Luke and I adjacent to one another breading the chicken and Darren on a different line doing something equally thrilling.

As time went on we got more and more abuse for being middle class and we reached our limit. We turned round and walked off the line, pausing only to collect Darren. As we went down the corridor we heard shouts of outrage and we legged it. We reached the safety of the locker room and as we clambered into our street clothes we were interrupted by a large sweaty line worker asking if "we were the cunts that had just fucked off and left line F?"

We were, but denied it and wiped our brows as we heard him threatening all sorts of retribution. Walking out of the factory we high fived one another, cheering, before realising we were ten miles from home and hadn't enough money to get home. The agency bus was obviously a no go, so we walked it.

The agency were very unhappy with us. It seems that there was a lot of chicken lost over the end of the line and in the scramble to find us the employees attention wandered somewhat and a lot more chicken went into the industrial oven than was meant to. They lost 6 hours production and also an awful lot of chickens.

Naturally, the agency fired us. Although to be honest we had already cost them a contract at a Bootiful Turkey place and at a Strawberry Picking place.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Tue 14 Aug 2007, 16:19, Reply)

...
this qotw has made me despair of some of my fellow b3tans. Elitist as I may be, I thought most of us would be above petty stealing and generally being complete cocks. Fair enough if it was being funny but a lot are just taking the piss.

***

Anyway, on topic, one time I would have been close to getting fired would have been when I played "What is Love" by Haddaway in a new club trying to get itself established as cool. In my defence I was just learning and hadn't learnt how to politely refuse requests.

I would apologise about length but I'm not the one being a cock.
(Lannes, Tue 14 Aug 2007, 16:07, Reply)