I knew that job was over
I used to work for a small Printing Services in a town called Walsall which will go unnamed...it was a family business where Mum, Dad, Daughter and Daughter's Fiance worked. Dad was a cunt, Mum was a haggard old bitch, Daughter was a combination of the two and Daughter's Fiance was the biggest twunt I've ever met in my life. Apart from me there was another graphic designer called Dave who was soft as shite and put up with all the crap they threw at him, and two guys who worked the printing machines, who, it appeared, couldn't care less. I suppose I should have twigged when, after my interview, they gave the job to someone else who stuck it for a couple of weeks and left. Then they got someone else in who lasted a month. Then they called me. Hell, I was desperate.

Six months later, Daughter comes in saying "We're going to have a new work uniform, here's yours." She hands me a yellow sweatshirt, three sizes too small, with WPS across the front and obvious stretches where someone's breasts have been.
I say, "I can't wear this. It's a) yellow, b) too small and c) obviously made for a girl."
Daughter says "No, you will wear it, every day."
Since I spent all my time in the upstars office and never even saw a client, I quit that very day and moved to Leeds the next.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Wed 27 Jul 2005, 11:50, Reply)