Actual 500th answer!
Morewoop!

I also knew a tight guy who was a twat.
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 16:42, Reply)

500th answer! Woop!
I knew someone tight. He was a twat.
(GONEism, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 16:37, Reply)

Last
come on change the QOTW
(Nahla, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 16:35, Reply)

It's a shredder....
I bought the wife a paper shredder a few years ago for her main christmas present....

She could see it was a rather large box and was getting excited about openeing it as she didnt have a clue what it was....

Well on christmas morning she eagerly opened it to find a Tesco value paper shredder....I could see the look of disbelief on her face so I told her look at how it cuts the paper.....

So she opened it and looked at the paper, inside with the paper was a pair of diamond earrings!

Okay so it was cheaper to buy a shredder than a nice big box to put the earrings in!
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 15:40, 2 replies)

SONG THREAD
I'll start, you carry on...

"If you're happy and you know it..."
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 15:40, 36 replies)

I find it common
to post a QOTW reply a week late...

//gets coat
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 15:04, 9 replies)

Oh go on then
My ex.. oh bless him, where to start?

I turned 40, a big deal for me, and what did Mr wonderful get me.? Nothing, absolutely zilch. I know he was skint but I only really wanted a card, that he could have borrowed $1 for from his Mum or something. He could have come round and cooked for me, anything. But no.. nothing..

He also always asked to take his wine home from parties with him, even if it had been started on, never mind that he'd got merrily pissed on other peoples drink all night either..

He asked me out for dinner on many occasions, but always leaned on me for my half of the bill..

We went to Paris, and I paid for the flights, but he still got me to pay for my half of the hotel as well..

He learned from the best though, his Dad gave him a pressure washer for christmas, that (I suspect) came free with something else. We were living together at the time, and we had a tiny yard with 3 slabs.. No car.. couldn't think for the life of me what to do with the danged thing..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 15:01, Reply)

Some people are so tight

They won't even give us a new Question.

Tsk!
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 14:41, Reply)

My father-in-law
First post, so be kind. My father-in-law is a kindly, 92 year old who, to be fair, does buy nice presents for birthdays, Christmas and other special occasions. But when it comes to the accompanying card, that's a different matter. Because we buy him a bumper box of Christmas cards, for him to send to all his friend and relatives, he tends to use them all year round. So for my birthday this year, I got a Christmas card with the word Christmas crossed out and the word Birthday written in pen over the top of it. He also tends to scribble out Santa's hat and beard. May be it's not "mean," just creative!
(Woofie, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 14:40, 6 replies)

Just wait until I've finished, ai'ght?
The University just lost one whole hojillion pounds with the collapse of the Icelandic banking system.

As such, they’ve recently pressured us to start saving The Earth (well, the printed money bits of it anyways) by requesting that we turn off our monitors when we go home for work.

A sign has recently found itself into the ladies’ loo: “Please turn off the light when you are finished.”

Which is super duper if YOU’VE just finished, not if there are people left in the toilet doing a bit of a tinkle. And we’re suddenly plunged into darkness. And we’ve got to do the ‘waddle’…
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 14:31, 5 replies)

1st of November Manchester B3ta bash
As it didn't have any repply in the Calendar, I don't know if anyone read it, so here it goes again:

Some of you know I had to unexpectedly change my plans for the weekend. But thanks to that, now we have 50+ coupons for the Wetherspoon beer festival which entitle you to have a pint of real ale for £1.39.

I hope you're happy!!

And is not completely out off topic. £1.39 a pint. You have to be quite tight to spend an afternoon cutting all those coupons.
(Aberracion Life's getting very complicated, but a lot of fun., Thu 30 Oct 2008, 13:36, 23 replies)

Can't wait for xmas
Last year my eldest sister bought her boyfriend a generous token of their mutual love.

A shredder.
A fucking tesco value shredder.

What did he buy her?
Nothing. And they were both pretty happy with it.

She also bought an electric toothbrush for my other sister, but got it in a 2for1 deal. Only 1 brush was exchanged in a slightly opened double package.

Not that bad i guess
(Ahoyhoy, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 13:23, 3 replies)

A late entry - The Ex's Parents
I used to go out with a girl whom at the time was just 17 (I was about 20). She was at her local college doing a GNVQ and living at home. She also lived about 100 miles from me.
But I drove so wasnt a problem.

She didnt work, so was pretty much still financially reliant on her parents. Her parents were strange sorts, she was a full time teacher and he was a director in a local firm. So their household income was obviously quite high. So much so that she wasnt elligable for that money you get when you stay on into Further Education.

Her older brother worked, and as such had to pay them rent. What was strange is that the house was plain empty. In the sense of, they had nothing worth anything in there. Thei Living room TV was an old 20" crap box that needed a smack to get going. They didnt even have a freeview box.

My ex's clothes were ripping off her becuase they were old and tatty yet they never gave her money to buy new ones. But would happily grill her for looking stupid wearing old tatty clothes!

For her 18th Birthday, yhey bought her a computer. I say bought, I think her dad nicked it from the skip from work. It was some old Compaq Deskpro thing which barely ran Windows XP. Had no sound card or CD drive or anything. It booted to a corporate version of Windows and had an install of Office on it. It still had group policies on it and was really tied down.
As a present I managed to fish for her a TV card, DVD Player, Sound Card & more RAM, just to make the PC some use other than work!

The real piss take came when I was going there for the weekend, but the parents were away. So we had the house to ourselves. Which was nice. Except they left her with no money and no food what so ever in the house. When she said "What am I going to eat?" they said "Well Miggyman is coming, he'll take you out"

So they expected me to have the money to take her out for food or buy food in. I had to keep that girl alive that weekend!

Really wasnt impressed.
(Miggyman, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 12:46, 7 replies)

I work in a bike shop now for my sins...
I have had this job for two months and I am doing ok. However most of the bikes I sell are shite for under £100.

I spent more than that on the front wheel of my mountain bike and just under that on the front wheel of my road bike. I am not tight, I may be daft, but I like my sport.

Since working in the bike shop I have had only two issues with customers being a tight twat. Sadly it was the same person...

When they bought the bike, they demanded that I provide them with my staff discount. Why should they demand this of me? They have the same medical condition as me and thus "we are sisters"... My staff discount is 15% and to be honest fifteen percent of fuck all is still fuck all. The bike they were buying was as cheap as chips and already heavily discounted.

I warned them, if you buy a bike this cheap, it will be problematic... But what do I know, I am only the fucking idiot who has to build them on a daily basis.

First harpy (brought along to offer technical advice, despite being a cretin) demanded to speak to my boss because I would not offer my staff discount (and commit an act of fraud). So my boss wanders over and states exactly the same. Harpy one stalks out of the shop cursing me under her breath. Harpy two decides that yes a "mountain bike" retailing for under £100 is a bargain and buys said bike. Then declares that the box may not fit into her expensive sports car...

I was then accused of trying to kill them. I achieved this by selling them the bike, unbuilt in its box, which they wanted to build them selves believing it would cost less and they can do a better job than a pro bike mechanic. Bikes are built by us free of charge to the best standard that cheap shit can reach... Said bike was then wheeled out for the first time and had a puncture... So they phoned me up and screamed abuse down the phone so rudely that my Boss has told me that if they phone again I am to put the phone down on them.

What did they want? A free inner tube because new bikes should not get a puncture...

Why do I bother...

Folks, do you really think that if bikes that cost less than £100 were actually any good, I would have spent £2000 on mine?
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 12:05, 29 replies)

MD
one of my MD's is spectacularly tight except when it comes to spending company money on his own gadgets/cars. He has 2 company cars FFS, not sure how he works that out as he's the only one to be insured on them.

The chairman invited him and his family to Greece (my chairman is greek) and put them up in a 5 star hotel for a week. Fed and watered the MD's spawn and treated them to a life of proper luxury. Or at least the greek equivalent.

On his return, the MD decided to thank the Chairman in the form of a new Rolex. Which he bought. With his company credit card. The same company credit card that the Chairman of course technically pays for.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 11:49, Reply)

Another tightwad boss
I worked in a bakery, the lesser details of which can be found here:

www.b3ta.com/questions/foodsabotage/post248083

Said boss, the racist cult-craving Baptist minister, was also a tightwad (a charming man, really.) Mirroring most other tightwad boss stories, we were docked for mere seconds, forced to work through breaks without extra pay, blah blah blah. You get this gist, we’ve been there before.

One day as I was performing my rather important bakery duties, I became distracted by something (likely shiny and sparkly) while placing a tray of bread into the giant rotating oven. A large, super-heated metal bar caught me across the inner elbows of both of my arms. As happens when flesh meets heat, my arms exploded in pus and blood – a tasty treat for the bakery patrons that day, I am sure. I remember that my arms stuck to this bar, actually melted on. The welts were two inches wide and several inches long, and bugger me, they hurt.

Instead of sending me off to get my wounds properly treated in a hospital like law dictates or even busting out the old emergency kit, he saw his daily hot dog bun and donut quota quickly slipping away. So he took me to the deli next door and cellophane-d my arms (without cleaning them) to prevent them from dripping on the precious baked goods. I was stood, arms outstretched, as he wrapped cellulose usually reserved for storage of potato salad around some pretty nasty wounds.

Then he made me make up the time at the end of the day.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 10:39, 14 replies)

Time Off In lieu
Im sure this is a fairly modern workplace piss-take. “Time off in lieu” roughly translated as
“you get up early on a Saturday and come to work for a few hours (thus ruining your already over subscribed weekend) and you can have some time off in the week”

The company I work for has a industrial and clerical section, if ou work in the clerical section you can only have time off in lieu while the guys in production get a juicy time and a half overtime package, inevitably its “too busy” to take the time off in lieu at a good time, say Friday afternoon so you end up using it to go to the bank on a Thursday morning or something. I wouldn’t mind so much but it costs me £6 to get to work! So really I end up out of time and out of pocket.
(jordanchaos isn’t just any PeaRoast, this is a M&S PeaRoast, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 9:40, 5 replies)

Back in the library
As part of a promotional thing we were giving away free toys. Not especially nice toys, mind, but they were free so what do you expect?

Anyway, the box we had was pretty much all there was, and it was publicised that the toys were on a first come first served basis. As our supplies were dwindling, cue a rather well known customer, the kind who is everso posh, thoroughly obnoxious and her and her kids all have double barrelled surnames.

"I want some for the children."

I hand her 3 toys for her little mewling cabbage-children.

"I want some of those different ones too."

(Then she silently mouths to me)

"It's for their Christmas presents."

Did I mention how much I hate people?
(GONEism, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 8:37, 9 replies)

Terry the Tightarse
He’s my boss. He’s a butcher. He’s a nice enough person, but he likes to run his business in a rather dictator-like manner. The way he sees it, if you’re not working you’re costing him money.

You could be bleeding to death from a stab wound, which is not uncommon in my suburb, and he’d be shouting at you to keep working. He won’t let anyone stop working until the shop is closed, which he always manages to make 20 minutes later than the door claims. If people came into the shop at midnight, he’d serve them.

He also likes to maximise the profitability of everything. He’d even try to sell the metallic mush left over from sharpening knives if someone said there was a market for it. Even if something has smelt fairly rotten for a few days, he’ll try to sell it. “Oh, that chicken is fine…just brush the maggots off.”

He’ll basically make everything as close as possible to ripping the customer of, but without actually doing so. Oddly enough, his son is the opposite; he closes the shop several hours before the posted closing time, simply because he just can’t be bothered.
( Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 1:42, 5 replies)

Dell are c**ts
Why? Here's why.

Step 1: Outsource all your logistics, order processing and support to the far east. Quids In!

Step 2: Continue affairs as though you're still the same old Apple Pie / Mom & Pop type garage business those quirky colonials know and love. Gee Whizz!

Step 3: Steadfastly refuse to adhere to any form of SLA, order tracking, human to human interaction and refuse to cough up or admit your behemoth scale ineptitude and torpid manner when confronted with a blatant fuck-up on your part.

One Battery : 124.90
Lead time : well over a month
Apparently : My fault because I wasn't psychic and didn't manage to figure out that "We will post a link to your delivery details here within 24 hours" (which never materialises) in actuality means "we've given it to parcel force who are, frankly, as much use as a set of titties on a fish, and to be honest, we couldn't really give a rats cock if it arrives or not, or if the postie even bothers to push a 'You weren't in' slip under your door, because, sunshine, we've got your cash, and you've got sweet FA. Hope you like arguing with a call centre run from the middle of a country more renowned for attacks of viral dysentry and dazzling displays of chronic fuckwittery in terms of organisation than efficiency. Ta."

Dell - you are tight. To surmise this, I am now producing a returns policy of my own, which you will soon be in receipt of (NSFW).

scot1and.net/~allan/pictures/sssss_i_ar_a_snake.jpg

Stick it up your chuff you errant cunt-mongers.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 22:01, 18 replies)

Best Cost Cutting Method Yet
I know of this company based in Hong Kong who is sacking all of it's workers and replacing them with Chinese workers. The ironic thing is that the workers being sacked are Chinese themselves. How do you explain that one to your wife?
( NIrving Cannot think of anything to say!, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 21:44, Reply)

Moosies
Miggyman's story reminds me of a far off time, when i would work the summers to bugger off and live in the mountains for the winter, fornicating, drinking and snowboarding.

This being the early nineties, the resort printed the same ticket for every day of the week - the only thing that changed was the dates (obviously), and there were no bar codes or scanners on the hill, ergo it was almost impossible to discern a valid ticket from the next, regardless what day of the week it was. It mostly fell to the liftie's eyeballs to bust you or not, and they being usually as hungover as we were or annoyed at watching everyone else steal all the fresh, didn't give a rat's ass anyhow.

With this in mind, I neglected to buy a season's pass when I arrived, and dutifully collected all the spent passes I could find, from friends, people leaving for the day, or just in the parking lot where most of them would end up. I would then proceed home, and with my trusty scalpel doctor a pass with the extra numbers and the like to make a pass with the applicable date. Result!

This went on for weeks, and I soon had an illicit business in doctoring passes for others ( covering the bills for alcohol and fornication... er wait). The snow gods were pleased and and life was good until....

...near the end of a great day, almost the last run, a liftie asks to see my pass whilst on the top chair and I am promptly busted and asked to leave. In good humor I comply ( was amazed it took so long to be busted in the first place), riding down to the middle chair, where I was chased by some twat on a snowmobile who stopped me and told me I was to walk to the bottom ( insurance, liability etc). A little miffed but in no position to argue i trudge off, following a cat track where i become hopelessly lost. It was getting dark. People were going home. I started to think I might have to hole up for the night...

...when through the forest I see some fresh prints on a path that turns ninety degrees from my vision. Wooyay saved! methinks, hop on the trail, turn the turn, and end up face to face with a male moose, no farther than a couple of feet away from my nose, a good six and a half feet tall, staring at me and huffing, stance a tad to aggressive for my liking. Behind Moosie was his wife and kid, browsing by a nearby stream. As slowly and non threateningly as i could, I backtracked and crouched under a bush while Moosie followed me and stared at me for about an hour before wandering off. Needless to say I was scared shitless, survived to tell the tale, and buy my passes to this day. Don't be a tightwad or think you're clever whilst doing so or a moose will eat your face.

Apols for length but it was bloody cold after a while.
(goorf, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 21:32, 2 replies)

10p !!!
The bus company I work for ,do not give change for fares,(the money goes into a sealed vault).If for any reason a customer had no change we could give them a voucher,which can be changed at our offices.
When a voucher is asked for we have to fill it out in duplicate..A young fella got on my bus and wanted 90p fare offered a pound coin and asked for a 10p change reciept,when I asked him if he was serious he gave said he wont bother...If he did insist I would have given tight fucker the 10p out of my own pocket.
(andycrass loves two hats on, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 21:15, 16 replies)

tightarsed girlfriends
Boss Keloid’s rather good story, reminded me of a tight girlfriend that I had.

It was ironic that the week before our first date, I’d been sat in a black cab chewing the cud with one of London’s finest, when we started talking about dating women.

Yer know what I fink? (No apologies for the cockney accent)

No?

When you staht dahting a girl raight?

Yeah?

What I reckun is vhis. Veh furst date, raight, yer take her aht proper. You treat 'er like a queen and yer spend a lot of mahney. Secund dayt, veh same. If by veh fird dayt, she still aint paid fur nuffin, ditch 'er.

I pondered this little nugget of advice for a few moments and then managed to, of course, completely discard it.

A week later, I go on a date with A. We get on really well, she’s really very hot, has a great figure, is a good laugh and a little bit dirty.

On top of this she has her own very profitable business and a flat that she rents in one of the smartest parts of London. And she doesn’t seem to mind that I’m an impoverished actor.

A Sunday lunchtime date in Chinatown turns into three bottles of wine in the Soho hotel and then Ronnie Scott’s for some live music. I happily paid for everything, although I was slightly surprised that she didn’t offer to buy even a single round.

Over the course of the next five months this woman did not buy me a single item. Not even a pint.

On Valentines day, I sent her two cards – one in the post anonymously and one in person when I saw her that evening, oh and a £60 bunch of flowers and drinks all night. What did she get me? Zip. Squat. Not even a cranberry flavoured cheese wheel.

Then there was the time that she asked me to come round for dinner. Her father was staying as well, and the three of us were going to have a meal together, but since she didn’t have any food in the house, we went down to the local express supermarket – where, you’ve guessed it, she made me pay for everything!

The last straw though was Easter – this is because I am a greedy bastard.

A very greedy bastard.

My weaknesses are Chinese takeaways* and chocolate.

Now in order not to become a totally fat useless bastard I do quite a lot of sport and over Easter I’d been on a training camp in Seville.

Rather bizarrely in Seville during Holy Week everyone dresses up like they’re from the KKK. This predates the KKK apparently, but obviously to the uninitiated looks a trifle bizarre. Anyway, all the bakeries and patisseries in Seville make various Easter goodies including sugar-Klansmen. I, of course, think that these are very amusing and promptly buy A one.

I get back and what’s she got me. Fuck all. And she threw out the sugar-KKK. I never spoke to her again.

So I’m sure there should be some sort of moral to this:

Gents – don’t always dismiss what the fat racist driving your cab tells you, just occasionally they come up with a gem.

Ladies, never, ever come between a man and his chocolate.

(*My Chinese habit makes Jeccy look like an amateur. Honest.)
(sugar_tits, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 18:32, 12 replies)

my great birthday last week
reminded me of another, not-so-great, birthday.

best friend number one: bought her a dragon figurine under a glass dome for her birthday, as she collects both dragons and domed items. only cost about £12, but it was what she wanted.
best friend number two: bought her a shocking pink catsuit-type affair, which she absolutely loved. it was her 21st, so i saw no problem with spending a little extra for a special gift. cost £45 and 6 stitches(ask me, i might tell you).

my birthday that year. i knew they'd both been paid, both had no children or large debts, both had a fair bit of disposable cash. i feel that i was justified in expecting at least some form of birthday gift.
what did i get?

a card.
a 59p card.
signed by both of them.

as if that wasn't enough, they then phoned me to invite me round to friend number one's flat for a birthday drink. i was willing to put up with sitting on a mattress on the floor(too tight to buy even a second-hand sofa), but i drew the fucking line when they said they were both skint and i'd have to pay for the drinks. not only that, but they said they didn't want the cheap cider they normally drink, oh no. they wanted vodka and, as it was my birthday, i should buy it to "treat myself"!

obviously, i told them both to fuck off and went to the pub.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 17:37, 14 replies)

'Meanness and drinking', hmmm
I bought a bottle of weird liqueur a year or two ago. It's a normal-looking bottle of some clear spirit with a small pear inside.

The pear is too big to have been put in through the neck of the bottle. I was told that it went in when it was tiny and underripe, and has since absorbed some of the spirit, making it swell.

I spent 50p on this bottle. I've opened and sniffed it and it does smell of spirits, with perhaps a whiff of pear, so it's genuine enough.

How desperate, and how broke/tight, will we have to get before we drink it?

Time will tell.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 17:29, 22 replies)

My family....
...Used to pay me £2.50 to work in their cafe all weekend!
That was Saturday 6am-2pm and Sunday 6am-12 noon.
To my count that's 35p an hour!!

I wouldn't mind but this was only 12 years ago, it's not like it was back in the oldern days FFS!
( DUMBLONDE is a rubber lover girl, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 16:56, 3 replies)

As a hard up student

I had run out of bog roll.

Luckily my evangelical housemate had left a copy of "Shining light"* a Christian newspaper in the loo.

Am I going to hull and will my punishment involve paper cuts to my anoos?



*can't remeber the real name, sounds plausible.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 16:55, 7 replies)

I can't help but notice
That there seems to be a bit of an overlap with customers from hell from a few weeks ago. Scientifically, this means that all tight people are bastards.
(GONEism, Wed 29 Oct 2008, 16:45, 2 replies)