Many moons ago I worked in a particularly rancid pit. Me and my fellow worker had an incredibly menial and humiliating task to perform, we wrote numbers by hand on large polypropylene bags. Day in day out we numbered the bags. At first we wrote neat uniform numerals taking great care so that they could be read by even the most myopic of idiots. Before long though the monotony started to wear us down and to make the time pass more quickly we invented pathetic games to make the dull task slightly more interesting.
- How many bags can you number in 5 minutes flat?
- How big can you make the numbers?
- Who can write the filthiest slogan on a bag?
- Let's draw all the ones as cocks.
- Zeros can be arseholes.
- Most illegible scrawl.
You get the idea...
It was the middle of winter and the working conditions were appalling, our micro-tearoom had no heating and the window was welded shut. At lunchtimes we would talk endless amounts of shite, our main topic being how pointless life was. Once day my workmate Jason (also a good pal outside of the working environment) asked me what I thought of myself. I answered as truthfully as I could. "I am a worthless piece of shit floating in a sea of piss and vomit." Oh how we laughed. Remembering that still brings a smile to my face.
posted by Clawhammer at 6:05 pm
7 Comments:
You require a taste of some Rapture you degenerate!
I remember a similar shite job, I was sent to this old wooden hut by the Ass-Master. I had to put electrical cables into plastic bags, again and again and again. This old wooden hut was a rancid ugly ex-POW style 'escape to victory' hen-house. After 3 hours working in this hole I needed to take a toilet break of pooptastic magnitude but soon discovered there was no facilities for such arse games....I tried to hold on until I was collected but the horror I couldn't manage after another hour of gut churning. I therefore sought solace to the rear of the property and let go with a stupendous shite and then spent the next hour trying to find something to wipe my wounded third eye!
Xaumito your job sounds like mine expect we have toilets, albeit the bog paper is like wiping your tush with sandpaper
Pooptastic! Your arse related antics made me laugh out loud! Toilet troubles of this kind would make a great blog all of their own.
Claw
The shite episode was a truly traumatic one, of course the shit had to be one of those sticky toffee pudding versions that requires half a tonne of finest velvet to shift from the cludgy canal
Xaumito, The sticky toffee jobby is a curse on mankind. It was developed in the late fifties by the boffins at Andrex but by the mid sixties was totally out of control. Please spare a thought for the third world where a roll of double quilted can cost a months wages.
I am the king of the drop-outs!!
Post a Comment
<< Home