I Quit!
Scaryduck writes, "I celebrated my last day on my paper round by giving everybody next door's paper, and the house at the end 16 copies of the Maidenhead Advertiser. And I kept the delivery bag. That certainly showed 'em."
What have you flounced out of? Did it have the impact you intended? What made you quit in the first place?
( , Thu 22 May 2008, 12:15)
Scaryduck writes, "I celebrated my last day on my paper round by giving everybody next door's paper, and the house at the end 16 copies of the Maidenhead Advertiser. And I kept the delivery bag. That certainly showed 'em."
What have you flounced out of? Did it have the impact you intended? What made you quit in the first place?
( , Thu 22 May 2008, 12:15)
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Bloody factories
I worked at a factory picking and packing during the summer holidays at college. I'm sure nearly all of you have been there, 8 hours a day packing envelopes/postbags in a noisy shithole.
I went in one day, fair enough i'd slept in and I was a bit late but that happens sometimes.
Now there were probably about 5 women there who worked full-time there forever, who sat and chatted on and on and on all bloody day long. Fair enough, a bit of conversation is good when you're doing something so soul destroying.
Now that day there happened to be some northern lad(i be in the midlands) next to me who i hadn't seen before who was making an extra few quid before moving back with his old man, so i found out.
We were having a lovely chat, but the old bints who could not shut up for 5 minutes would not stop going on at us for talking when they were cackling away like witches all fusking day long. Needless to say by lunchtime i was up and out of there, and when the agency phoned me up just after lunch when i didn't turn up, I was telling her my heart wrenching story of being wrongly picked on, and she puts the phone down on me. How charming.
But fuck you fudge packers, who's working for merc now eh?
( , Thu 22 May 2008, 22:26, 2 replies)
I worked at a factory picking and packing during the summer holidays at college. I'm sure nearly all of you have been there, 8 hours a day packing envelopes/postbags in a noisy shithole.
I went in one day, fair enough i'd slept in and I was a bit late but that happens sometimes.
Now there were probably about 5 women there who worked full-time there forever, who sat and chatted on and on and on all bloody day long. Fair enough, a bit of conversation is good when you're doing something so soul destroying.
Now that day there happened to be some northern lad(i be in the midlands) next to me who i hadn't seen before who was making an extra few quid before moving back with his old man, so i found out.
We were having a lovely chat, but the old bints who could not shut up for 5 minutes would not stop going on at us for talking when they were cackling away like witches all fusking day long. Needless to say by lunchtime i was up and out of there, and when the agency phoned me up just after lunch when i didn't turn up, I was telling her my heart wrenching story of being wrongly picked on, and she puts the phone down on me. How charming.
But fuck you fudge packers, who's working for merc now eh?
( , Thu 22 May 2008, 22:26, 2 replies)
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