Worst place you've ever worked?

[P.C]

Mine arent anywhere near as bad as some mentioned but here we go

When I was 18 I got my first full time job after leaving school, working for MGt limited in Kirkcaldy which was a call centre which outsourced staff to external clients (playboy, b4u tv, travel shop etc). I was hired as a skillseeker earning £100 a week while working towards a qualification. The first few months were a bit of a blur as I was put through training and product training as I was working for UDirect films which is like a knock off version of sky box office

After a few months I was told as part of my training I would be asked to help out in teh mail room on a regular basis, this consisted of putting letters into envolopes for the day... Next I was told that because one of my fellow skillseekers was going off on holiday and he worked in admin I would need to cover his workload despite never doing any of the admin work. The highlight of which was seeing that there was actually a default letter template for our Red Hot films/wifes/europe customers which was in response to them saying the films weren't hardcore enough (yup i took those calls too). From that I was also asked to fill in for payrolll skillseeker which resulted in me getting barrells of abuse from all members of staff when their pay didn't go through correctly and id only been covering for a few days

After all this I was actually getting to grips with my work and becoming pretty good at it to the point I was helping with coaching and floor walking (tho still earning half of everyone else's salary). After putting up with all the numpteys in my office for about a year I finished my "qualification" and was delighted I would be on a decent wage after serving my time. Alas I was mistaken. Just because I had finished the qualification it didn't mean I wasn't still a skillseeker. No. They wanted to put me on another course. When I asked which course they told me it hadn't been created yet... Shortly afterwards a managers job came up and I applied as some of the guys there were just on new levels of muppetness and I thought id have a decent shout. Day before the interviews I had no letter to say if id been accepted or declined. Had a moan to someone about it in the breakroom in front of a manager 20 mins later there is a letter at reception for me with no postage and dated that day. I never got that job

Just to further annoy me they started putting perm staff through the same qualification that we had just completed. I left for sky not long afterwards

[Killie Zenit]

Wine waiter during the Open at Royal Troon in 2004: serving disgustingly wealthy South Africans who watched the whole thing on the big telly in their £2,000-per-head marquee and didn't even bother getting off their arses to go outside when Tiger Woods was teeing off ten yards away. Spent eight hours having these p***ks click their sovvied fingers at me and being shouted at by Craig Brewster's ex-missus, who was my supervisor, for not refilling glasses fast enough. On the rare occasion any of them left any tips, these were immediately pocketed by the lassies by the door whose sole job seemed to be saying hello.

Vindicated in my long-held belief that golf is for fucking c***s.

[Ross.]

When I was 18/19 I took a part time job waiting tables in a cafe in Glasgow. About 3 hours into my first shift, the guy working in the kitchen decided he'd had enough and walked out. The manager demanded that I worked in the kitchen instead, despite having zero experience and having no one to help show me the ropes. It was lunchtime and mobbed. I quit about an hour later and didn't even bother telling the boss that I was leaving.

I also briefly worked doing door to door sales, trying to get folk to sign up for charity, on a commission only basis. Got halfway through the shift and went for a pub lunch. The rest of them finished their lunch and left. I went to the bar and ordered another pint. Then another, then another.

Worst one was probably telesales for some mobile phone insurance company. I had another job lined up but wasn't starting until the end of the following month, and decided that a shite wage was better than dole money. 2 hours training and straight on the phone. Pub lunch and stayed there.

All 3 are equal in terms of shiteness. I have left quite a few other shite jobs out, mostly because even though the job was shite, there was decent banter amongst the staff.

[DA Baracus]

I worked one day for Team Challenge, an events company that goes to workplace events and puts up inflatables and other such shit.

I was put on the bouncy velco thing. It's where you strap on a velcro suit and jump up a big velcro wall and get stuck on it. I spent most of the time pulling young lassies' hair out of the velcro suit and making them cry. It was also fucking roasting and was outside, so I mostly spent the day pulling young lassies' hair whilst sweating in a suspicious manner. Most of the other people working there were fucking arseholes who seemed to be on a sugar or caffeine high and buzzed about disgustingly cheery and loud delivering high fives and hate to my soul. I didn't work any other events.

Another job I hated was working in a call centre, in Dyce, for a cab company that operated in London. This resulted in me, and others, trying to make out a variety of accents telling us, quite specifically, where they wanted to go. The problem was that they described the place as 'just beside the Spar on such and such road' or 'Just opposite the pub on whatever street'. I have never been to London in my life. This was quite a challenge. I quit because I was given grief for being late. I was late because of a massive snowstorm that ensured I had to walk, from Aberdeen, to the workplace in Dyce, which took almost 2 hours. Hardly anyone else had bothered to come in saying that the public transport was off, which it was. Instead of being thanked for making the effort, I was warned about being late. If I experienced such a thing now I would have laughed in their face before going on an angry rant and calling them out, but at the time I just took it and never went back after that day.

[Duszek]

Remembered another one. Tarot card readings over the phone, in a windowless room off Union Street, Glasgow. The scam was to keep the people who'd rang a premium-rate number, on the other end of the phone line for as long as possible. By speaking v-e-r-y slowly and talking complete bullshit.

"I'm turning over the first card now, Jean. Oh... What's this I see? It's... the three of cups. Now... that could be good... then again... it may not be... we'll have to see..."

It was awful. The half-dozen people doing the job were either freaks who believed their own mumbo-jumbo, or cynics who enjoyed taking the piss out of society's most vulnerable.

The 'job interview' involved the owner of the scam asking me to select a card from the deck and say what I thought it represented. I picked the five of swords and said "perhaps some conflict ahead", and the guy looked me in the eye and said "you have the gift. You'll do well here".

I left after the first night. Dreadful, dreadful place.

[Killie Zenit]

..the guy looked me in the eye and said "you have the gift. You'll do well here".

I know a guy who does tarot readings for a living. He's a Dundonian. He describes scadging a pint off his pals (which he does all the time) as a 'Dundee deal', as if it's an elaborate scam worthy of Paul Newman in The Sting, instead of begging like a tink. He also has the gift.

[P.C]

Also remember a job I had for about 2 weeks

It was a job at strand lighting in Kirkcaldy who built, configured and delivered stage lights all over the world for stage shows, displays etc. Sounds like an interesting place to work doesnt it?.. My job was to assemble card board boxes (really) place the assembled lights inside the box put on pallet then put the pallet into the warehouse. 8 hours a day

when i complained the job was boring they offered to put me on the line instead which involved clipping one item onto the lights. i quit

[Cardinal Richelieu]

Another shite job I had working for Roadferry - luckily it was only a temping job.

It was a general admin work. The first week was pretty boring, but that was nothing compared to the 2nd week. They put me into a tiny windowless storeroom and gave me 10,000+ delivery invoices. It was my task to put them in numerical order. It took me the entire week and I was a broken man at the end of it.

At the end of my temping contract, they were really pleased with my work and offered me a full-time position. Although I really needed the money and they were actually nice people to work with, the cold dead look in their eyes from doing years of mind-numbingly pointless tasks meant I had to turn it down to save my own sanity.

[Ross.]

Also remember a job I had for about 2 weeks

It was a job at strand lighting in Kirkcaldy who built, configured and delivered stage lights all over the world for stage shows, displays etc. Sounds like an interesting place to work doesnt it?.. My job was to assemble card board boxes (really) place the assembled lights inside the box put on pallet then put the pallet into the warehouse. 8 hours a day

when i complained the job was boring they offered to put me on the line instead which involved clipping one item onto the lights. i quit

I done exactly the same thing on a few occasions, taking temp work at IBM when I was at college and living in Greenock. Would generally be decent money for 2 or 3 weeks at a time but after doing 12 hour shifts every day for that period you wouldn't have a clue what was going on. They did break up the monotony of assembling the cardboard boxes by sometimes letting you put things in the boxes, and then, even more occasionally, putting the cardboard box, filling and all, beside another cardboard box that had been folded and filled by someone else. Exciting times.

[P.C]

I done exactly the same thing on a few occasions, taking temp work at IBM when I was at college and living in Greenock. Would generally be decent money for 2 or 3 weeks at a time but after doing 12 hour shifts every day for that period you wouldn't have a clue what was going on. They did break up the monotony of assembling the cardboard boxes by sometimes letting you put things in the boxes, and then, even more occasionally, putting the cardboard box, filling and all, beside another cardboard box that had been folded and filled by someone else. Exciting times.

im forever thankful for the large cuts i use to get up my arms when putting in the carboard inserts to keep the lights in place, made me look like i was self harming

[Monster]

I spent a few months at I.B.M. in Greenock for my sins.

The first week I was accosted in the break room by a gentleman with a fairly protruding forehead and asked: "Who dae ye support?"

When I answered "Ayr United", the predictable reply was of course: "Aye, but who dae ye really support?".

Having exchanged intellectual brickbats for a good five minutes the chap became a tad frustrated at my refusal to confirm that my season ticket for Somerset was in fact a mere red herring (or possibly red hand?) to cover up who I really gave my allegiances to, leading the poor fellow to shout: "AW YOUSE AYR FANS AR JIST ****** BASTURTS ONYWAY!" before storming back out to mordor.

Almost exactly the same conversation took place around a week later with another well balanced and almost odourless young shaver, except the last sentence was "YOUSE AYR FANS ARE ORINGE BASTURTS!"

All in all it was generally a clean, friendly and interesting place to work. Wait, was it f**k.

[tinkerbelle]

Thought you were going to say the Puma factory.

[The Real Saints]

Paper round. It was awful.

I enjoyed it the first time around. The lady who ran the corner shop was a very pleasant person and she made sure I was well prepared for the arduous 20-minute trek through the streets of Perth. She gave me a walk-through of the route so that I wouldn't make any mistakes and could do it as quickly as possible.

Then she left. There was a change of owner. He was a cretin. He still runs the shop to this very day. I haven't come into contact with him in recent years, so I don't know if he is still a cretin.

Anyway, he gave me a brand new route. I would have had no problem with this, but he gave it to me on the day of my first paper round under his stewardship and he refused to give me a walk-through. I didn't know some of the streets on the route and told him this, but he said that he had no time to advise me. Funnily enough, it took me absolutely ages to complete. On one street, there were two houses which were #1. The sheet of paper, which told me the names of the streets and houses, advised me that I must pop a copy of the Daily Record into #1. But there were two number #1's. Which #1 should I choose? Why are there two #1's in one street? Is this even allowed?

Putting aside all troubling questions, I decided to play a game of 'Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Mo' to determine which house to choose. It proved to be the least successful and most damaging game of 'Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Mo' in history (until Jeremy Clarkson kind of stole my thunder).

Yes, I picked the wrong house. The next afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was the cretin who runs the corner shop. I knew instinctively that I was in serious trouble. His seething face confirmed my fears. ''You took an incredibly long amount of time'', he said smugly. ''And you made a mistake. You picked the wrong #1.''

I confirmed that I had serious trouble in picking the correct #1 and would have perhaps benefited from a walk-through so that he could show me the ropes. He replied by telling me that it was an ''easy'' route and my efforts were ''below-par''. Landing a killer blow, he told me that I would be ''fired'' if I made one more mistake.

This corner-shop version of Lord Alan Sugar then turned away and disappeared into the distance, leaving me feeling hopeless. Pathetic. Like a piece of dirt. I didn't think things could get any worse. Then the doorbell rang again, a mere 5 minutes later. He had returned, looking more smug than ever.

''I have actually done your paper round route on many occasions, alongside my dog'', he said, pointing down at his ugly little bulldog. ''I have decided to take you on a walk-through to show you just how easy it is. My dog will lead the way.''

The cretin and I then proceeded to follow his dog through the Perth streets whilst it walked to every house of my paper round route in their exact order, getting nothing wrong whatsoever. The dog was taunting me as it approached each house, turning its disgusting little head towards me each time in a display of horrible arrogance. This lasted about 20 minutes, but felt closer to an hour in length. Once we returned to the corner shop, the cretinous man smirked at me and said, ''See? Even my dog can do it'', before turning his back on me. I soon turned my back on the degrading job.

[banana]

Did you get chased down many alleys?

[The Real Saints]

Did you get chased down many alleys?

No, the people of Perth accept me for who I am.

[ForeverSinging]

Inside Ur mom.

[Hedgecutter]

Paper round. It was awful.

My lasting memory of my paper round involved a woman who ordered the Sunday times despite having a tiny letterbox with thick, stiff bristles.

The first time I had to pull the thing apart (which I myself had put together at 6am) and force the supplements through one by one. The thing was totally shredded so of course she complains to the shop.

Next week, I'm told to leave it on the doorstep. It's pissing it down but I follow instructions. She complains again and I get in trouble from the newsagent owner.

Next week, it's pissing with rain again and so I ring the doorbell (at the end of the shift seeing the windows open). Despite being fully dressed and obviously up, she has a massive go at me for disturbing her... and complains to the boss.

The next week I think I just gave her the Sunday Mail.

[Zen Archer (Raconteur)]

My lasting memory of my paper round involved a woman who ordered the Sunday times despite having a tiny letterbox with thick, stiff bristles.

The first time I had to pull the thing apart (which I myself had put together at 6am) and force the supplements through one by one. The thing was totally shredded so of course she complains to the shop.

Next week, I'm told to leave it on the doorstep. It's pissing it down but I follow instructions. She complains again and I get in trouble from the newsagent owner.

Next week, it's pissing with rain again and so I ring the doorbell (at the end of the shift seeing the windows open). Despite being fully dressed and obviously up, she has a massive go at me for disturbing her... and complains to the boss.

The next week I think I just gave her the Sunday Mail.

She should have waxed.

[~~~]

Also remember a job I had for about 2 weeks

It was a job at strand lighting in Kirkcaldy who built, configured and delivered stage lights all over the world for stage shows, displays etc. Sounds like an interesting place to work doesnt it?.. My job was to assemble card board boxes (really) place the assembled lights inside the box put on pallet then put the pallet into the warehouse. 8 hours a day

when i complained the job was boring they offered to put me on the line instead which involved clipping one item onto the lights. i quit

[Newbornbairn]

To supplement my evening job working in West End theatres, I used to do agency temping work which is why I ended up working at the British Council. My job was to collate paid invoices into a binder which had to be bound and glued in a desktop contraption. I was given a desk in a small office with one other guy.

This guy.

The British Council has a policy of actively recruiting disabled people and those with learning difficulties/special needs so I had this guy to put up with every day. Whenever the phone rang he would yell "Telephone ! Telephone!" before answering it. I swear to god that's the most sensible and legible thing I heard him say in three months. He just spouted random words and gibberish so I would smile and nod until he smiled and nodded back. The only other guy I saw come into the office was the guy who brought me my trolley-load of invoices each day.

Anyway, the job wasn't too bad. I put on my Walkman and largely ignored the bizarre behaviour of my colleague. So I was a bit surprised when the agency phoned me up and said the British Council didn't want me back. It turned out the strange guy was actually my supervisor and I hadn't been carrying out his instructions despite his repeated warnings!

Not the worst job, but one of the weirdest.