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• #2
My soulless boss has just taken it on himself to cheer up my colleague (not the ginger stressed one who's hair falls out - the other one.). His father died on Friday, and as a 26 year old who's mother disowned him when the marriage to his dad broke down, this young chap had the grim task of organizing his dad's funeral.
Soulless boss (who has slicked back hair, BTW) chose topical news stories to cheer him up:"What about that puff off Little Britain, eh? His husband has gone and topped himself, I see.."
"Did you read about those two young lasses who flung themselves off that bridge? What a fucking waste. Did anyone see a picure of them? Were they fit?"
Soulless Boss then asked about how my colleagues dad passed away:
"Fluid on the lungs? Nasty. Massive dose of morphine? They do that, when it's terminal. It's good shit, that morphine. It sent me off my rocker when they gave me it. There's loads of types you know. Powerful as fuck. They gave it to Dave when he got cancer. It's what killed him, really."
Then he asked my colleague to stay on and work extra hours.Unbelievable.
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• #3
Please could you tell me exactly what it is? Wikipedia didn't help much.
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• #4
For reprographics description, think IT and design combined, only without the skill, camaraderie, artistic flare, creativity, laughter, song, joy, popularity, sexiness, hope, funkiness, cool-factor or future.
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• #5
Surely some of those skills are transferrable? What about magazine/newspaper layout?
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• #6
Soulless boss has just asked grieving colleague if he watched Jamie Oliver last night:
Colleague - "I started watching it, but I can't really remember what happened. My mind kind of wandered..."
Soulless Boss - "Yeah, that happens when bad stuff happens. It was like that for me when they told me I had diabetes."
Everything in his life is equatable to his fucking diabetes.
Whoa! Them two planes just flew into that building!
I know how they feel. I've got diabetes.Poor baby P!
He's got it lucky. I've got diabetes.See the footy last night?
No. I've got diabetes.Jesus.
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• #7
I'm in the North, Sparky.
Not too many jobs at the mo.
Wife and two kids to feed, mortgage etc...
For the time being, I'm trapped! -
• #8
Resign, simple.
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• #9
I understand - it's not that much better in the south. I've been laid off once in the last few months. Also feeling lucky to have a job at the moment.
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• #10
Then he asked my colleague to stay on and work extra hours.
No one should have to work extra hours for anybody. Pulling your weight? Committed? Just want to get the job done? Fuck off! Manage better, Manager.
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• #11
Not this Manager.
Soulless Boss loves to come into work on Saturdays AND Sundays.
He says it "breaks up the weekend"
He calls it 'having a little drive through' to see that everything is going ok.
Even when he's the only one there...
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• #12
Don't resign - The expectation levels are fantastically low and you don't have to worry about any of that shit + it’s money. You also have to love the people those jobs attract.
I used to manage a tape ops chap who had a drink problem, ran a Satan worshiping website and spent half his day writing letters to the telegraph. He had daily ideas to take over the company (all fantastically bad but serious!)
I’d get into work and he’d be there 7am eating microwave chicken korma spitting bile at a piece in the days paper written by a vicar. Pure magic! -
• #13
Cheers Greasy! I'm glad that I'm not the only one witnessing this insanity.
This shit is bad, but the guy who keeps wanking off in the toilets while I'm trying to take a crap is really getting on my nerves. He can't even be discreet about it, for fuck's sake...
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• #14
wanking off at work? lord have mercy...
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• #15
The wanking's bad, but I sort of wonder what gets him so fizzed up at work that he feels he really has to crack one off right that second, even with a bloke tutting loudly in disgust about three feet away from him - but then I wonder if the bloke tutting loudly about three feet away is the reason he is so fizzed up...
Have I become bog wank material? -
• #16
I think so, yep.
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• #17
you should wait out side the toilet for him to to appear, then cheer and clap loudly.
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• #18
Do you know who the bloke is?
(the dude rubbing one out) -
• #19
Checks
Do not work in reprographics, phew
You're not the only one suffering, if this is any consolation: my line-manager is currently filing her toenails* disturbingly close to my desk having just removed the nail varnish, more will be applied shortly, I'm developing a phobia to the accompanying sights and smells.
*Yeah, that's right TOENAILS, fingernails is a daily job, thankfully only weekly for the toenails.
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• #20
barbarians.
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• #21
you should wait out side the toilet for him to to appear, then cheer and clap loudly.
and get a few of your colleages in on it.
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• #22
Or get a few of us to come along, so to speak...
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• #23
i know the sort of "come along" you'll wanna do :)
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• #24
what kind of organisation is it you work for? could you take this higher up?
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• #25
That's where it gets farsical...
The first time it happens, i leave the toilet with a shocked and disgusted expression on my face.
Co-worker, Jock, asks what's up.
'There's some dirty bastard knocking one out in there!'
'No!'
'Yes.'
'No!'
'Yes.'
etc...
I told him that I'd seen his shoes under the door, for future reference, to ID the cunt.
I wander off, and Jock gets on with his job, keeping half an eye on the toilet.
And clocks the bloke who walks out.2 days later, over the tannoy:
'Will General Lucifer please go to meeting room 1'I arrive to find a manager with a very upset worker, ModelWorker. Never throws a sicky, works through lunch etc.
'Ah, Mr Lucifer! I'll get straight to the point. People have been accusing Mr ModelWorker of committing an oscene act on himself in the toilets, and they say the person who wittnessed it is YOU!"
I check ModelWorker's shoes in a sneaky way.
Wrong shoes.
ModelWorker throws a screaming hissy fit, tears and everything, I say it's not him, he's the wrong guy.
'How do you know?' asks manager.
'I looked under the toilet door, and saw bog wankers shoes. ModelWorker has different shoes.'
'What were you doing looking under toilet doors, Mr Lucifer?'
Oh.ModelWorker had nipped in for a piss when Jock had his back turned, and only saw him leaving.
Bog wanker made good his escape afterwards.I had to endure sniggers for being masturbatory obsessive bog peeper for a few weeks.
I now realise that if I accuse the real bog wanker, or even approach him on the subject, he can just say I'm lying, and declare me a pervert.
You see, now I've got 'previous'. I've already wrongly accused one person of bog wanking - it will look like I've got some disorder that makes me look under bog doors hoping to catch somebody wanking.
All I can do now is tut loudly in the hope he shoots his load quickly, and leaves me in peace to have a shit.
I hate reprographics.
What a tedious, thankless, mindless job it really is. I swore I'd never do twenty years in the trade, and here I am, twenty years later. Same grey box of a room, different mac, different software, same shit.
My boss uses my soul as a wank rag, mopping out his jizzy navel with my hopes and dreams.
My workmates are mindless buffoons, drooling on the page 3 of the paper while shovelling bacon into their toothless maws.
Next to me is a kid with bright ginger hair.
The funny bit? When he gets stressed, his hair falls out in clumps!
He gets stressed a lot.
He's in reprographics.
I've got to get out.
If I'm still her next year I'm going to go postal.
more shit to follow....