I know what you mean about line managers, where I previously worked I was given permission to work on projects outside of my team, it was great and I managed to go to Canada for a few days and Rotterdam on a day trip. Here I just didn't have a dialogue with my manager, it really wasn't working out.
Perhaps I should point out my predecessor resigned on the last day before her probation and walked out the door that day...
I left my last job (which I should have loved as it was well paid, I was progressing well and it was a lot of fun) because my line manager was an odious prick. It's amazing the difference a reporting line can make within a corporate environment
The nearest I came was when I was in my early 20s when a friend suggested that I went to a lot of job interviews just to get good at them. One particular job interview at the ITV (or whatever they were called then) meant that I had to see 6 different people. After three people, it was getting very tedious, so I told the lady looking after me that I was going to leave at this point. She told me that I couldn't leave until I had seen Mrs Mullins in HR, Mr Osman, my prospective boss, and one of the directors. I thanked her but told her firmly that I was off. There was an audible gasp in the office as the lady showing me around shrieked "Oh my God, he's leaving. What will I tell Mrs Mullins?"
Two days later, I received a letter telling me that I was not suitable for the position.
I had an interview once for a job I realised after 5 minutes that I didn't want, so wasn't exactly giving the interview my all. She asked me how my colleagues would describe me in three words, and I said 'Sarcastic. Lazy.'
The reply was "...and the third one?"
"Misunderstood."
I actually got offered the job a day later - Christ knows what the other interviewees were like.
after completing my apprentiship my employer was being tight and wouldn't put my wages up saying I had to do another 2 years before I would get a proper rate, we fell out after having a massive row, I had an offer paying a lot more as a subby but for contract reasons with my current boss I needed to be sacked, I chose not to turn up for work for a week and started my new job, cutting off my old bosses calls and threatening texts, to the point he turned up at my house one night, with me sitting on sofa laughing with him looking through the window growling, then aload of abuse through my letterbox before posting my P45 and sacking me hence breaking the contract giving me what I wanted.
Huskaris I'm also an accountant. Several decades ago I started for a small outfit with 3 in the office. These days all ledgers are integrated and at interview I asked if theirs were. Yes I was told. They weren't. Boss's BS recs were just a list of transactions. He had no clue how to run a company. I walked out at end of day. He sued me for lack of notice and cost of ad. He turned up with a lawyer but wore a suit with trainers. My defence of mis-representation was accepted within qtr of an hour. Stressful though!
Yeah I found their accounting processes to be relatively annoying but at the same time relatively common (some naughty accruals, but I guess that is standard) it was more the fact that they had awful processes and gave absolutely zero training. I have never felt like there was so much "assumed knowledge" in my life. They talked to me like I knew company specifics as if I had been there for years. Never really worked in a place like that and it was a shame. Really hope they don't try and sue me haha!
In the construction industry especially at the lower end violence among employees can be pretty common. I watched two Irish fellas kick the absolute shit out of each other over a shovel. The foreman tried to break it up and said to the less angry of the 2 'calm down its only a fucking shovel' and he got dropped with one hit. The irishman told him to shove his job up his arse and was gone. On 2 counts I decided that job wasn't for me. Firstly because I was a passenger in his car and secondly I thought my own shovel was going to get pinched next and decided a 80 quid a day groundwork job wasn't worth rolling round in a trench for.
I jacked another job in a chip shop which lasted 2 days of being outright abused by a nasty family of Indians who ran the place. I said to the lady of the family the job wasn't for me and she started screaming and shouting at me. I wish I could say I kicked right off but I just swallowed her and her grown up son's bullshit for the rest of the night and locked them both in the 'chip room' before I left after I listened to them bitch and racially abuse me and how much of a cunt I was for quitting a 3 quid and hour job being spoken to and treated like a slave thinking I couldn't hear them. So I pushed the door shut and wedged a massive barrel of chip oil against the locked door for good measure. As I left the shop door open I went to the pub next door and told everyone the owners had buggered off and to help themselves to anything.
Another job I had a stab at was selling double glazing with one of my mates. I'd actually done really well at it on the phones but they knocked me and sneered that there was nothing I could do. They'd taken my commission for themselves so me and said mate went to work and told them to even up the wrongdoing and pay me my bonus and comission or there would be bother. They sneered again so we absolutely wrecked the place. The guy who had done the comission stealing went for me so I punched him and told the other bloke who was busy hiding behind a filing cabinet I'd quit. That was intensely satisfying. I actually git loads of job offers off the back of people telling varying versions of that story.
I went back groundworking after that and did my best to avoid tool stealing irishman
Well I don't think we will see more exciting than this.
I have been there for 3 and a half weeks and realised that it wasn't for me. The people are unsociable and the work is constant and monotonous. I was being managed by someone who is barely senior to me in years (27, I am 25) and she was clearly not capable to manage anyone. I have had no direction in my role and I seized my opportunity.
She went for an hour and a half long meeting, I couldn't be bothered to have the conversation with her because I am a) a coward who avoids confrontation and b) really couldn't be bothered to wait for her to come back from the meeting, I had made my mind up mid way through her and her boss reeling off a list of inane bullshit they wanted me to do. I would like to point out this is completely uncharacteristic of me, I have never walked out of anything in my life, and I am still having shaky feelings inside several hours later.
I sent her an email, to her and the representative in HR, explaining that I was leaving because of the fact I have been given no direction etc (to be fair it really was awful but don't want to bore with the details in this post). I sent it on delay so that it would send 20 minutes after i left the building. I packed up my stuff and very quietly walked out of the door.
So, over to you, what is the worst job you have ever had, but more importantly, what is the best way that you have "resigned" from that job. If your job lives are anything like your love lives, I am in for a treat!
Probably not what you are going to want to hear but you need to come up with a good story for your next employer as to why you only lasted 3 weeks. I wouldn't mention the bit where you had a problem because your immediate boss was only 2 years older than you and incapable of managing you. Hopefully your job wasn't in a regulated bank otherwise the reference might be an issue - you can't not mention you worked at the place because it will be on the P45 your new employer will want off you.
They'll hardly be looking for references if he worked there for 3 weeks. Hopefully he had a steady work record prior to this one.
I have been there for 3 and a half weeks and realised that it wasn't for me. The people are unsociable and the work is constant and monotonous. I was being managed by someone who is barely senior to me in years (27, I am 25) and she was clearly not capable to manage anyone. I have had no direction in my role and I seized my opportunity.
She went for an hour and a half long meeting, I couldn't be bothered to have the conversation with her because I am a) a coward who avoids confrontation and b) really couldn't be bothered to wait for her to come back from the meeting, I had made my mind up mid way through her and her boss reeling off a list of inane bullshit they wanted me to do. I would like to point out this is completely uncharacteristic of me, I have never walked out of anything in my life, and I am still having shaky feelings inside several hours later.
I sent her an email, to her and the representative in HR, explaining that I was leaving because of the fact I have been given no direction etc (to be fair it really was awful but don't want to bore with the details in this post). I sent it on delay so that it would send 20 minutes after i left the building. I packed up my stuff and very quietly walked out of the door.
So, over to you, what is the worst job you have ever had, but more importantly, what is the best way that you have "resigned" from that job. If your job lives are anything like your love lives, I am in for a treat!
Probably not what you are going to want to hear but you need to come up with a good story for your next employer as to why you only lasted 3 weeks. I wouldn't mention the bit where you had a problem because your immediate boss was only 2 years older than you and incapable of managing you. Hopefully your job wasn't in a regulated bank otherwise the reference might be an issue - you can't not mention you worked at the place because it will be on the P45 your new employer will want off you.
They'll hardly be looking for references if he worked there for 3 weeks. Hopefully he had a steady work record prior to this one.
They'd especially want references if he only lasted 3 weeks
Not quite a resignation but I once actually declined a job on the basis that it sounded exactly like the job I had previously handed in my resignation for on the count of having no job satisfaction whatsoever. The only difference is it would have been for a lot more money but a right old commute into London about 90 mins each way at best.
The best one though again not a resignation but it felt like it. I got a new job internally at the end of last year and the best bit about it was the timing of it. I was officially offered the job the night before we had our annual end of year people reviews where basically the senior management in our department would decide how well you were performing in your job based on there perception of you. A very political battle every time by ungrateful bastards with nowhere near the amount of knowledge I and my colleagues possessed.
So instead of a 30 minute debate all about how good you are or aren't - of which of course you're not allowed to attend - the only thing they could discuss was my resignation being handed in the previous night.
The timing couldn't have been any better and it meant I had the last laugh which might not sound very much but when you're dealing with managers above your level who have held grudges unfairly against you and other senior managers who are no more than bullies it was an extremely satisfying time and really did feel like I had the last laugh knowing they were all sat round a table being told the news I was moving on to bigger and better things leaving them all behind in there bubble.
I was thinking of this thread again last night and how I haven't resigned on a count of working for the same employers for a while. A mate of mine however decided he'd had enough in one of these nonsense team meetings where knowledgeable hard working people are told to work 'smarter' (encouraged to do unpaid overtime, work they are untrained to do, cut corners yet still maintain the excellent safety and quality standards we have) and just said he'd had enough. Tossed his keys in and said he'd take annual leave owed to him for his notice. The looks on everyone's faces were priceless, the management couldn't accept someone would have enough of their bullshit and have the temerity to work elsewhere.
I’d finished my CSEs at school (for what they were worth) and Dad asked me my plans. I had my job lined up starting in August and planned that the interim months would be spent popping into school, playing a bit of cricket and general relaxation.
This seemed to turn Dad (who hitherto had a perfect record of being a wonderful, perfect human being), into a raging bull. He delicately pointed out that if he was sweating his arse off to put food on the table, the least he expected of me was to get an effing job. Dad also shocked me when he called me a name (lazy *) that questioned his own fatherhood.
Two days later I found myself working in Woolworths, manhandling about a ton of the gardening product ‘dried blood’. from the back of a lorry up to the stockroom. This was hardly what I’d planned, as the dust from the product choked the hell out of me and removed all moisture from my mouth for the following three days..
On day two I was told in no uncertain terms by a young couple in the stockroom to get lost for twenty minutes. I was a very naive 16 year old and wondered why they didn’t require my help. Very strange.
Midday day three. The smarmy manager handed me a bucket, a brillo pad and a pair of pink rubber gloves. I was shocked to learn that he expected me to remove the black deposit that gathers at the base of the counters. He seemed equally shocked when I told him that I had no intention of doing it. There followed a frank exchange of views. It ended in me requesting that he made my cards up. I recall wondering if that was the correct terminology as the words left my mouth. Either way I was on a roll now and demanded that he should do it forthwith as I dramatically headed for the door.
Phew, the blast of cold air on my face as I left the cauldron of the shop was pure heaven.
I cut a forlorn character on the bus home though as I considered the less than spectacular start to my working life. Maybe God had made a mistake, placing me in a lifestyle that wasn’t really my bag? And then there was Dad, what was I going to tell him?
I’d finished my CSEs at school (for what they were worth) and Dad asked me my plans. I had my job lined up starting in August and planned that the interim months would be spent popping into school, playing a bit of cricket and general relaxation.
This seemed to turn Dad (who hitherto had a perfect record of being a wonderful, perfect human being), into a raging bull. He delicately pointed out that if he was sweating his arse off to put food on the table, the least he expected of me was to get an effing job. Dad also shocked me when he called me a name (lazy *) that questioned his own fatherhood.
Two days later I found myself working in Woolworths, manhandling about a ton of the gardening product ‘dried blood’. from the back of a lorry up to the stockroom. This was hardly what I’d planned, as the dust from the product choked the hell out of me and removed all moisture from my mouth for the following three days..
On day two I was told in no uncertain terms by a young couple in the stockroom to get lost for twenty minutes. I was a very naive 16 year old and wondered why they didn’t require my help. Very strange.
Midday day three. The smarmy manager handed me a bucket, a brillo pad and a pair of pink rubber gloves. I was shocked to learn that he expected me to remove the black deposit that gathers at the base of the counters. He seemed equally shocked when I told him that I had no intention of doing it. There followed a frank exchange of views. It ended in me requesting that he made my cards be made up. I recall wondering if that was the correct terminology as the words left my mouth. Either way I was on a roll now and demanded that he should do it forthwith as I dramatically headed for the door.
Phew, the blast of cold air on my face as I left the cauldron of the shop was pure heaven.
I cut a forlorn character on the bus home though as I considered the less than spectacular start to my working life. Maybe God had made a mistake, placing me in a lifestyle that wasn’t really my bag? And then there was Dad, what was I going to tell him?
What happened with your dad as a result of all this?!?!!
The strangest job interview I ever did was again when I was about 19-20 and all I really wanted to do was play guitar and make a noise in a band. Anyway, I turned up begrudgingly for this interview only to be questioned by this really tasty girl, but it was obvious that recruiting was a step up new job for her, and she was all brisk and keen to make an impression. I tried really hard to look and sound a bit keen myself on this job suddenly, but it was not really going to go anywhere because I had not bothered to find out anything about it beforehand. So we got to about question 3. "So, what was it that interested you about this job?" She said brightly, pen poised to write down my scintillating response. I looked at her blankly. "I don't know." I replied. She stared back at me and I could tell something deep inside her quietly died. But she rallied herself. " Ok, well, what made you apply for this position?" she said, encouragingly. I should point out here that I lacked the finely honed interview skills that only a few months later would propel me to the heady role of Assistant to the Fruit and Veg Manager of the nearby Coop. " My mum." I replied. There was a silence. " She's fed up with me just lazing around the house playing the guitar." I added. She looked down almost sadly at her redundant clipboard. "So you don't really want this job, do you?" she said. " Not really." I replied. Bless her, at this point, she again rallied and actually looked up some other jobs that I might have been interested in, and even gave me the number of another place to try. She was, in fact, totally professional. And I was a bit of a wanker. But the "interview" did end with a smile, when we both agreed it had been " unusual". She probably went on to great things, I meandered my way to listening to old ladies tell me about the price of cabbage, as I put out the carrots. My only regret was I didn't ask her out. She was lovely.
I’d finished my CSEs at school (for what they were worth) and Dad asked me my plans. I had my job lined up starting in August and planned that the interim months would be spent popping into school, playing a bit of cricket and general relaxation.
This seemed to turn Dad (who hitherto had a perfect record of being a wonderful, perfect human being), into a raging bull. He delicately pointed out that if he was sweating his arse off to put food on the table, the least he expected of me was to get an effing job. Dad also shocked me when he called me a name (lazy *) that questioned his own fatherhood.
Two days later I found myself working in Woolworths, manhandling about a ton of the gardening product ‘dried blood’. from the back of a lorry up to the stockroom. This was hardly what I’d planned, as the dust from the product choked the hell out of me and removed all moisture from my mouth for the following three days..
On day two I was told in no uncertain terms by a young couple in the stockroom to get lost for twenty minutes. I was a very naive 16 year old and wondered why they didn’t require my help. Very strange.
Midday day three. The smarmy manager handed me a bucket, a brillo pad and a pair of pink rubber gloves. I was shocked to learn that he expected me to remove the black deposit that gathers at the base of the counters. He seemed equally shocked when I told him that I had no intention of doing it. There followed a frank exchange of views. It ended in me requesting that he made my cards be made up. I recall wondering if that was the correct terminology as the words left my mouth. Either way I was on a roll now and demanded that he should do it forthwith as I dramatically headed for the door.
Phew, the blast of cold air on my face as I left the cauldron of the shop was pure heaven.
I cut a forlorn character on the bus home though as I considered the less than spectacular start to my working life. Maybe God had made a mistake, placing me in a lifestyle that wasn’t really my bag? And then there was Dad, what was I going to tell him?
The strangest job interview I ever did was again when I was about 19-20 and all I really wanted to do was play guitar and make a noise in a band. Anyway, I turned up begrudgingly for this interview only to be questioned by this really tasty girl, but it was obvious that recruiting was a step up new job for her, and she was all brisk and keen to make an impression. I tried really hard to look and sound a bit keen myself on this job suddenly, but it was not really going to go anywhere because I had not bothered to find out anything about it beforehand. So we got to about question 3. "So, what was it that interested you about this job?" She said brightly, pen poised to write down my scintillating response. I looked at her blankly. "I don't know." I replied. She stared back at me and I could tell something deep inside her quietly died. But she rallied herself. " Ok, well, what made you apply for this position?" she said, encouragingly. I should point out here that I lacked the finely honed interview skills that only a few months later would propel me to the heady role of Assistant to the Fruit and Veg Manager of the nearby Coop. " My mum." I replied. There was a silence. " She's fed up with me just lazing around the house playing the guitar." I added. She looked down almost sadly at her redundant clipboard. "So you don't really want this job, do you?" she said. " Not really." I replied. Bless her, at this point, she again rallied and actually looked up some other jobs that I might have been interested in, and even gave me the number of another place to try. She was, in fact, totally professional. And I was a bit of a wanker. But the "interview" did end with a smile, when we both agreed it had been " unusual". She probably went on to great things, I meandered my way to listening to old ladies tell me about the price of cabbage, as I put out the carrots. My only regret was I didn't ask her out. She was lovely.
Nothing particularly special about this resignation but purely by coincidence my wife resigned yesterday. We worked out that after paying for travel and childcare she was actually working for £76 a year, which, on reflection, didn't really seem worthwhile!
In the construction industry especially at the lower end violence among employees can be pretty common. I watched two Irish fellas kick the absolute shit out of each other over a shovel. The foreman tried to break it up and said to the less angry of the 2 'calm down its only a fucking shovel' and he got dropped with one hit. The irishman told him to shove his job up his arse and was gone. On 2 counts I decided that job wasn't for me. Firstly because I was a passenger in his car and secondly I thought my own shovel was going to get pinched next and decided a 80 quid a day groundwork job wasn't worth rolling round in a trench for.
I jacked another job in a chip shop which lasted 2 days of being outright abused by a nasty family of Indians who ran the place. I said to the lady of the family the job wasn't for me and she started screaming and shouting at me. I wish I could say I kicked right off but I just swallowed her and her grown up son's bullshit for the rest of the night and locked them both in the 'chip room' before I left after I listened to them bitch and racially abuse me and how much of a cunt I was for quitting a 3 quid and hour job being spoken to and treated like a slave thinking I couldn't hear them. So I pushed the door shut and wedged a massive barrel of chip oil against the locked door for good measure. As I left the shop door open I went to the pub next door and told everyone the owners had buggered off and to help themselves to anything.
Another job I had a stab at was selling double glazing with one of my mates. I'd actually done really well at it on the phones but they knocked me and sneered that there was nothing I could do. They'd taken my commission for themselves so me and said mate went to work and told them to even up the wrongdoing and pay me my bonus and comission or there would be bother. They sneered again so we absolutely wrecked the place. The guy who had done the comission stealing went for me so I punched him and told the other bloke who was busy hiding behind a filing cabinet I'd quit. That was intensely satisfying. I actually git loads of job offers off the back of people telling varying versions of that story.
I went back groundworking after that and did my best to avoid tool stealing irishman
I was going to post a story but tbh it all seems a bit tame now
In the construction industry especially at the lower end violence among employees can be pretty common. I watched two Irish fellas kick the absolute shit out of each other over a shovel. The foreman tried to break it up and said to the less angry of the 2 'calm down its only a fucking shovel' and he got dropped with one hit. The irishman told him to shove his job up his arse and was gone. On 2 counts I decided that job wasn't for me. Firstly because I was a passenger in his car and secondly I thought my own shovel was going to get pinched next and decided a 80 quid a day groundwork job wasn't worth rolling round in a trench for.
I jacked another job in a chip shop which lasted 2 days of being outright abused by a nasty family of Indians who ran the place. I said to the lady of the family the job wasn't for me and she started screaming and shouting at me. I wish I could say I kicked right off but I just swallowed her and her grown up son's bullshit for the rest of the night and locked them both in the 'chip room' before I left after I listened to them bitch and racially abuse me and how much of a cunt I was for quitting a 3 quid and hour job being spoken to and treated like a slave thinking I couldn't hear them. So I pushed the door shut and wedged a massive barrel of chip oil against the locked door for good measure. As I left the shop door open I went to the pub next door and told everyone the owners had buggered off and to help themselves to anything.
Another job I had a stab at was selling double glazing with one of my mates. I'd actually done really well at it on the phones but they knocked me and sneered that there was nothing I could do. They'd taken my commission for themselves so me and said mate went to work and told them to even up the wrongdoing and pay me my bonus and comission or there would be bother. They sneered again so we absolutely wrecked the place. The guy who had done the comission stealing went for me so I punched him and told the other bloke who was busy hiding behind a filing cabinet I'd quit. That was intensely satisfying. I actually git loads of job offers off the back of people telling varying versions of that story.
I went back groundworking after that and did my best to avoid tool stealing irishman
I 'resigned' from one Saturday job by phoning in sick to play cricket. Not too much can go wrong with that really, provided A - you aren't playing against the boss's brother, and B - you don't give the reason for your sick day as 'I'm going to play cricket'
I was forcibly resigned from a Saturday job at a fishmonger's after having a wank in an outside bog
I worked one night in a fried chicken shop at the top of Deptford Broadway - the owner was a Turkish bloke who was coked out of his nut and fucked off to Champs about fifteen minutes in, leaving me with no idea how to make any of the food. Dropped twenty 'chicken' pieces into a vat of boiling oil without putting the breadcrumbs on first, burned my hand trying to pull them out with tongs that had no rubber handles, then three rude boys came in and robbed the till - I stupidly stabbed one of them in the hand with a wooden chip fork, then grabbed a massive knife that was laying on the counter after they legged it in case they decided to come back and kill me. Took 20 quid out of the till, walked out without locking up, straight over to Champs and told the bouncers to tell him the keys were on the counter
I 'resigned' from one Saturday job by phoning in sick to play cricket. Not too much can go wrong with that really, provided A - you aren't playing against the boss's brother, and B - you don't give the reason for your sick day as 'I'm going to play cricket'
I was forcibly resigned from a Saturday job at a fishmonger's after having a wank in an outside bog
I worked one night in a fried chicken shop at the top of Deptford Broadway - the owner was a Turkish bloke who was coked out of his nut and fucked off to Champs about fifteen minutes in, leaving me with no idea how to make any of the food. Dropped twenty 'chicken' pieces into a vat of boiling oil without putting the breadcrumbs on first, burned my hand trying to pull them out with tongs that had no rubber handles, then three rude boys came in and robbed the till - I stupidly stabbed one of them in the hand with a wooden chip fork, then grabbed a massive knife that was laying on the counter after they legged it in case they decided to come back and kill me. Took 20 quid out of the till, walked out without locking up, straight over to Champs and told the bouncers to tell him the keys were on the counter
I just remembered my other walk out - I'd spent two years temp working in insurance, so decided to make insurance my career. I went for an interview at E-Sure who had just started up in my area and got a shitty sales job.
The training was horrible. Team building bullshit, videos about people throwing fish at each other, and the guys around me thought they were city lawyers and shit.
So on day 8, I got a call from another company offering me a job and potential career in media. I was so happy I couldn't believe it. Thing is, E-Sure had paid me a month's wages, so when I went back after lunch to tell them I quit, they said "that's fine, but can we have 75% of the money back?"
"Erm.... no..." - I'd got my job through an agency, so E-Sure didn't even have my number to call me up. Got something like £1k for a week and half's training/ sitting around, walked away, and was being verbally abused by Andy Gray just a few weeks later.
I 'resigned' from one Saturday job by phoning in sick to play cricket. Not too much can go wrong with that really, provided A - you aren't playing against the boss's brother, and B - you don't give the reason for your sick day as 'I'm going to play cricket'
I was forcibly resigned from a Saturday job at a fishmonger's after having a wank in an outside bog
I worked one night in a fried chicken shop at the top of Deptford Broadway - the owner was a Turkish bloke who was coked out of his nut and fucked off to Champs about fifteen minutes in, leaving me with no idea how to make any of the food. Dropped twenty 'chicken' pieces into a vat of boiling oil without putting the breadcrumbs on first, burned my hand trying to pull them out with tongs that had no rubber handles, then three rude boys came in and robbed the till - I stupidly stabbed one of them in the hand with a wooden chip fork, then grabbed a massive knife that was laying on the counter after they legged it in case they decided to come back and kill me. Took 20 quid out of the till, walked out without locking up, straight over to Champs and told the bouncers to tell him the keys were on the counter
Long story but will be brief- 1988 got a job at a printers in Northfleet, I was a planner and plate maker ( this was pre apple macs) they gave me some dough to start up their studio with the promise of a good pay rise when up and running. It took me a couple of weeks but I started smashing out the work and they were happy. If we were too busy we used a planning plate making studio in Strood the boss there offered me a job effectively doubling my money plus a company car, I spoke to my employer who said all he could offer me was £10 a week raise, so off I went to the new place. Started monday morning the new boss asked me to wash his car???? I'm thinking an initiation so went along with it until I saw them taking the piss! It turns out the new boss walked into my old place offered to run the studio and they agreed, so he stiffed me completely, I lasted 2 weeks he never paid me and just tried to make my life a misery. I was still in the NGA Union and knew the new boss was paying cash to workers still drawing the dole from the union and government , so contacted the union who met me on the following Monday morning with the DHSS at the premises, and he was nicked. I told him I was leaving there and then, he swore a lot. He remains the biggest piece of shit I have ever met. There's a lovely postscript. While he was away one of his legit workers was hopping on and off his missus. I reckon I won that one!
I 'resigned' from one Saturday job by phoning in sick to play cricket. Not too much can go wrong with that really, provided A - you aren't playing against the boss's brother, and B - you don't give the reason for your sick day as 'I'm going to play cricket'
I was forcibly resigned from a Saturday job at a fishmonger's after having a wank in an outside bog
I worked one night in a fried chicken shop at the top of Deptford Broadway - the owner was a Turkish bloke who was coked out of his nut and fucked off to Champs about fifteen minutes in, leaving me with no idea how to make any of the food. Dropped twenty 'chicken' pieces into a vat of boiling oil without putting the breadcrumbs on first, burned my hand trying to pull them out with tongs that had no rubber handles, then three rude boys came in and robbed the till - I stupidly stabbed one of them in the hand with a wooden chip fork, then grabbed a massive knife that was laying on the counter after they legged it in case they decided to come back and kill me. Took 20 quid out of the till, walked out without locking up, straight over to Champs and told the bouncers to tell him the keys were on the counter
Just a cotton pickin' minute, I'm not going to let that one pass by without question, just because you frame it between two other corking stories!
How did they find out? Was some of the stock "involved" or what? Were you just noisy? Pardon the pun, but c'mon, spill the beans...
Not a resignation as such, but it might just as well have been.
Place I worked, on bonus day the boss who was a real prime and proper character came round with a pile of envelopes. But no envelope = no bonus.
Anyway, the manager walked straight past one girl's desk. And she shouted after him across the office: "So the blow job was no good then?"
Reminds me of a drinking game with colleagues; where you drink if you've done a certain act.
"Had sex in the toilets at work."
Queue no-one drinking apart from one ditzy blonde girl (alas, I've mentioned her before - she made me leave that workplace.) and her line manager. The story wouldn't have been so annoying had she not always had me opt for a hotel..
I once walked out of a job at lunch time and didn't go back. Was at an Arab bank in the City, been there about eight months, hated it. The HR woman was on reception as I walked out. 'See you later' she said, 'no you won't I replied' and that was that. Walked into a new job the next day, it was like that in the early eighties in banking.
I 'resigned' from one Saturday job by phoning in sick to play cricket. Not too much can go wrong with that really, provided A - you aren't playing against the boss's brother, and B - you don't give the reason for your sick day as 'I'm going to play cricket'
I was forcibly resigned from a Saturday job at a fishmonger's after having a wank in an outside bog
I worked one night in a fried chicken shop at the top of Deptford Broadway - the owner was a Turkish bloke who was coked out of his nut and fucked off to Champs about fifteen minutes in, leaving me with no idea how to make any of the food. Dropped twenty 'chicken' pieces into a vat of boiling oil without putting the breadcrumbs on first, burned my hand trying to pull them out with tongs that had no rubber handles, then three rude boys came in and robbed the till - I stupidly stabbed one of them in the hand with a wooden chip fork, then grabbed a massive knife that was laying on the counter after they legged it in case they decided to come back and kill me. Took 20 quid out of the till, walked out without locking up, straight over to Champs and told the bouncers to tell him the keys were on the counter
Just a cotton pickin' minute, I'm not going to let that one pass by without question, just because you frame it between two other corking stories!
How did they find out? Was some of the stock "involved" or what? Were you just noisy? Pardon the pun, but c'mon, spill the beans...
I disappeared for about 20 minutes. Left the mag in there. Someone else went in afterwards and put 2 & 2 together and told the owner. Didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out what was going on. Larry Holmes could have figured that out.
Comments
The reply was "...and the third one?"
"Misunderstood."
I actually got offered the job a day later - Christ knows what the other interviewees were like.
The best one though again not a resignation but it felt like it. I got a new job internally at the end of last year and the best bit about it was the timing of it. I was officially offered the job the night before we had our annual end of year people reviews where basically the senior management in our department would decide how well you were performing in your job based on there perception of you. A very political battle every time by ungrateful bastards with nowhere near the amount of knowledge I and my colleagues possessed.
So instead of a 30 minute debate all about how good you are or aren't - of which of course you're not allowed to attend - the only thing they could discuss was my resignation being handed in the previous night.
The timing couldn't have been any better and it meant I had the last laugh which might not sound very much but when you're dealing with managers above your level who have held grudges unfairly against you and other senior managers who are no more than bullies it was an extremely satisfying time and really did feel like I had the last laugh knowing they were all sat round a table being told the news I was moving on to bigger and better things leaving them all behind in there bubble.
This seemed to turn Dad (who hitherto had a perfect record of being a wonderful, perfect human being), into a raging bull. He delicately pointed out that if he was sweating his arse off to put food on the table, the least he expected of me was to get an effing job. Dad also shocked me when he called me a name (lazy *) that questioned his own fatherhood.
Two days later I found myself working in Woolworths, manhandling about a ton of the gardening product ‘dried blood’. from the back of a lorry up to the stockroom. This was hardly what I’d planned, as the dust from the product choked the hell out of me and removed all moisture from my mouth for the following three days..
On day two I was told in no uncertain terms by a young couple in the stockroom to get lost for twenty minutes. I was a very naive 16 year old and wondered why they didn’t require my help. Very strange.
Midday day three. The smarmy manager handed me a bucket, a brillo pad and a pair of pink rubber gloves. I was shocked to learn that he expected me to remove the black deposit that gathers at the base of the counters. He seemed equally shocked when I told him that I had no intention of doing it. There followed a frank exchange of views. It ended in me requesting that he made my cards up. I recall wondering if that was the correct terminology as the words left my mouth. Either way I was on a roll now and demanded that he should do it forthwith as I dramatically headed for the door.
Phew, the blast of cold air on my face as I left the cauldron of the shop was pure heaven.
I cut a forlorn character on the bus home though as I considered the less than spectacular start to my working life. Maybe God had made a mistake, placing me in a lifestyle that wasn’t really my bag? And then there was Dad, what was I going to tell him?
Anyway, I turned up begrudgingly for this interview only to be questioned by this really tasty girl, but it was obvious that recruiting was a step up new job for her, and she was all brisk and keen to make an impression.
I tried really hard to look and sound a bit keen myself on this job suddenly, but it was not really going to go anywhere because I had not bothered to find out anything about it beforehand.
So we got to about question 3.
"So, what was it that interested you about this job?" She said brightly, pen poised to write down my scintillating response.
I looked at her blankly.
"I don't know." I replied.
She stared back at me and I could tell something deep inside her quietly died.
But she rallied herself.
" Ok, well, what made you apply for this position?" she said, encouragingly.
I should point out here that I lacked the finely honed interview skills that only a few months later would propel me to the heady role of Assistant to the Fruit and Veg Manager of the nearby Coop.
" My mum." I replied.
There was a silence.
" She's fed up with me just lazing around the house playing the guitar." I added.
She looked down almost sadly at her redundant clipboard.
"So you don't really want this job, do you?" she said.
" Not really." I replied.
Bless her, at this point, she again rallied and actually looked up some other jobs that I might have been interested in, and even gave me the number of another place to try.
She was, in fact, totally professional.
And I was a bit of a wanker.
But the "interview" did end with a smile, when we both agreed it had been " unusual".
She probably went on to great things, I meandered my way to listening to old ladies tell me about the price of cabbage, as I put out the carrots.
My only regret was I didn't ask her out.
She was lovely.
you ll end end up digging a hole for yourself
I was forcibly resigned from a Saturday job at a fishmonger's after having a wank in an outside bog
I worked one night in a fried chicken shop at the top of Deptford Broadway - the owner was a Turkish bloke who was coked out of his nut and fucked off to Champs about fifteen minutes in, leaving me with no idea how to make any of the food. Dropped twenty 'chicken' pieces into a vat of boiling oil without putting the breadcrumbs on first, burned my hand trying to pull them out with tongs that had no rubber handles, then three rude boys came in and robbed the till - I stupidly stabbed one of them in the hand with a wooden chip fork, then grabbed a massive knife that was laying on the counter after they legged it in case they decided to come back and kill me. Took 20 quid out of the till, walked out without locking up, straight over to Champs and told the bouncers to tell him the keys were on the counter
The training was horrible. Team building bullshit, videos about people throwing fish at each other, and the guys around me thought they were city lawyers and shit.
So on day 8, I got a call from another company offering me a job and potential career in media. I was so happy I couldn't believe it. Thing is, E-Sure had paid me a month's wages, so when I went back after lunch to tell them I quit, they said "that's fine, but can we have 75% of the money back?"
"Erm.... no..." - I'd got my job through an agency, so E-Sure didn't even have my number to call me up. Got something like £1k for a week and half's training/ sitting around, walked away, and was being verbally abused by Andy Gray just a few weeks later.
Place I worked, on bonus day the boss who was a real prime and proper character came round with a pile of envelopes. But no envelope = no bonus.
Anyway, the manager walked straight past one girl's desk. And she shouted after him across the office: "So the blow job was no good then?"
1988 got a job at a printers in Northfleet, I was a planner and plate maker ( this was pre apple macs) they gave me some dough to start up their studio with the promise of a good pay rise when up and running. It took me a couple of weeks but I started smashing out the work and they were happy.
If we were too busy we used a planning plate making studio in Strood the boss there offered me a job effectively doubling my money plus a company car, I spoke to my employer who said all he could offer me was £10 a week raise, so off I went to the new place. Started monday morning the new boss asked me to wash his car???? I'm thinking an initiation so went along with it until I saw them taking the piss! It turns out the new boss walked into my old place offered to run the studio and they agreed, so he stiffed me completely, I lasted 2 weeks he never paid me and just tried to make my life a misery.
I was still in the NGA Union and knew the new boss was paying cash to workers still drawing the dole from the union and government , so contacted the union who met me on the following Monday morning with the DHSS at the premises, and he was nicked. I told him I was leaving there and then, he swore a lot. He remains the biggest piece of shit I have ever met.
There's a lovely postscript. While he was away one of his legit workers was hopping on and off his missus.
I reckon I won that one!
How did they find out? Was some of the stock "involved" or what? Were you just noisy? Pardon the pun, but c'mon, spill the beans...
"Had sex in the toilets at work."
Queue no-one drinking apart from one ditzy blonde girl (alas, I've mentioned her before - she made me leave that workplace.) and her line manager. The story wouldn't have been so annoying had she not always had me opt for a hotel..