The flunky

After MLP fessing up to this:

It got me thinking about all the shite minimum wage jobs I've done in the past to earn a crust or two.

Before I became awesome, my illustrious career included the following degrading, badly paid, gash jobs, which I am proud to add to my CV:

Marshal at a Go-Kart track - This role basically entailed being run over and abused by drunken stag do wankers. The upside was that I got to drive go-karts around and piss about. Unfortunately this small amount of joy was by far eclipsed by the fact that I would spend most of my shifts having my ankles driven into at 40 mph and having to break up fights between testosterone filled chavs.

Occasionally I would get revenge and put a little oil on the track, I also once let off a Co2 fire extinguisher in someone's face, telling them their kart was on fire. The other lads I worked with where generally the sort who where destined for a career fitting tyres in Kwikfit or spending time at Her Majesty's pleasure for stealing Citroen Saxos. I didn't really fit in and felt a bit out of my comfort zone. I joined the mob straight from this job and didn't even bother to tell them I was leaving, I just didn't turn up one day.

Conference & Banqueting Assistant - For some reason, despite breaking every employment law on the planet and employing 13 year olds, the owners of the hotel I worked at decided that having mere waiters was beneath them, this meant that everyone got a Gucci job title. Basically I was a waiter, but not the good sort who comes to your table and writes down your order and gets tips, no, I was the gash kind who walks around at wedding receptions, topping up your wine glass and collecting empties at the bar.

I'm still unsure whether this was the best or the worst job I've ever had. The money was a little more than minimum wage and the hours where long, however the hotel employed a lot of hot girls, mostly filthy foreigners, I also got fed and would invariably end up drinking or stealing any left over booze after the weddings. The average shift could go one of two ways; I'd either end up getting smashed on Champagne, having a cheeky fumble with a Spanish waitress (sorry...I mean C&B assistant) and going home with a stolen case of wine, or I'd end up laying tables for hours followed by being verbally abused by middle aged fat blokes, who were at a golfing conference.

Eventually, because I stuck it out and put up with a lot of shit, I was given a small pay rise and some minor responsibility, I could also swap my bow tie for a normal one, which made me look a lot less like a cunt. Generally this meant more Spanish waitresses to finger and I could delegate the shit jobs to people I didn't like. Unfortunately it also meant I would be held accountable for ruining someone's wedding, which I did, on a variety of occasions. After months of taking the piss, stealing booze, getting my mate to clock me in when I wasn't there and generally acting the cunt, I was 'persuaded' to leave by the management.

What gash jobs have you done to get by?

 

I had the honour of also working at Lazer Quest in Carlisle. Similarly with 2DD's Go Kart job; this role basically entailed being punched and abused by drunken stag do wankers. The upside was that I got to mill around in the dark with drunken hen do slags.

For this privilege, I was paid 102.50 a week and I was a staff supervisor, the poor games marshals were on about 90. On the upside, we did do a roaring trade by ringing two for one vouchers through the till without the customer knowing and pocketing the extra. We also watched and marked all the fruit machines in the foyer and dropped them at will. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this being in Carlisle it was rough as fuck and we found ourselves carrying out the duties of bouncer more often than running games.

One of the lads I worked with there was in a boyband called 911. He was a throbber.

 

Back to my mountain bike mechanic job. I'm also convinced with the benefit of hindsight, that this was the best job I've ever had.

Despite the chad pay, I spent every day sat on my arse carrying out easy fixes. When that got tiresome, I would drive around the holiday park on a quad looking awesome, coming to the rescue of idiots who can't work out how to change a gear. Two of the other lads and I had a parts scam going which again topped up our meagre pay and we used to cover for each other when we bunked off to fuck whichever female colleague liked us that week.

The staff parties were on the epic scale of things. Every worker from every department crammed into the glitzy holiday park disco and given cheap booze. No wonder teen pregnancy is so rife in Cumbria.

 

I bumped into a lad I was at school with in the pub recently and he proudly told me that he was the assistant deputy manager of Quasar Laser in Hemel Hempstead.

He's a real high flyer and sometimes gets to wear a Primark suit to work. I used to think he was awesome at school because he once told our music teacher to fuck off and he had a moped.

How the mighty have fallen.

 

Events site manager - Not really a flunky job at all, in fact a big doss that my best mate got me onto while I was on leave from the mob, I'll include it here though because I occasionally was mistaken for a flunky and would often have to direct people to the bogs.

For years my mate had a cheeky scam going in the events industry, he'd double and triple book his jobs and then sub-contract the work out to his mates, coordinating everything from his front room with a mobile phone, turning up on site occasionally to meet with the bosses and to see how things were going.

One Christmas leave, my mate offered me 100 quid a day to basically guard a marquee and walk around with a radio looking important. These large events, I'm talking parties for 5000-15,000 people, are always chaos. You'll have AV guys, lighting technicians, catering people, bar staff, cloak room people, security, portaloo people and around 100 Eastern European waitresses, all from different agencies and companies.

My mate would come in during the morning, have a meeting with all the heads of departments and then say ''any problems talk to 2DD, he's in charge.'' Then he'd fcuk off to one of his other jobs and I'd just let everything run it's course. On the rare occasion that something bad would happen, the HODs would sort it out among themselves or I'd just phone up my mate.

Once the party kicked off I would just wonder about nicking booze trying to pull the waitresses and making sure all the HODs had everything they needed, then I'd get my head down in a portacabin.

Cheers Easy.

 

Worked as a cleaner/porter at a mental institution on a secure male ward. that was bad but when I worked overtime it was on a secure female ward, what ever was smeared on the male ward it was better than the "extra" that was smeared over the walls on the female ward 8O ukeright:

For this I was payed the princely sum of 50p an hour. Working all the overtime I could get and every weekend plus extra work in a laundary I could take home £32 pounds a week.Then after 6 month I joined up and got £9 a fortnight, that was a shock to the system

The partys in the nurses home had to be expirienced to be believed

 

2DD. I remember being a little shit in lazar quasar in 'emel empstead chucking slush puppies around... i always hated those marshal cunts...

 

Worked in a carpet shop (1985) before I joined up. I was on £5 a day, and £6 if I worked a Saturday. Did howver have untill recently a good stash of Stanly knives and inner tubes (had a small bike shop on the side)When I joined up I recieved a nice letter from the Tax man informing me I had not paid any tax. So my 1st Navy pay packet of £182 was £80 light. He had me registered as YTS however was paying me short.

Had to be dragged off my old boss by my Dad many years later after a few beers in the masonic lodge (guest not member, wink, wink), however the twat did agree to give my parents a good discount on some lino!!!

 

I dressed up....

Nothing unusual for a bootneck, until I found out the Beeb was hiring me out for 1800 quid a day and I was getting paid 45!!

That changed... and I got good money doing what all good booties can do, hit people and fall over whilst dressed up...

Before that I used to dress up as a soldier and get real sh1t money. :wink:

Now I pretend to be a log truck driver....

I'm spotting a trend here..

 

Along with a few mongoloids from Arrse, I did a few days extra work in October on the new X-Men film. Top dosh for standing around, eating bacon sarnies and listening to airsoft Walters spinning gash dits.

In the end I was around £400 up for 2.5 days work. It was fairly soul destroying at times though, I was a Russian soldier, on our day of filming we had to show up at 0600 then we got into our costumes and sat in the basement of the set until 1830 doing nothing at all. Then I had to stand in the background of the scene for 4 hours while they filmed the same 30 second sequence over and over again from different angles.

I learned a few top tips while I was there though; all make up and costume birds are stuck up cnuts, always tell the production assistant that you had to have a haircut for the day (extra £29 in your pay packet) and never strike up a conversation with the weird bloke breathing heavily in the corner.

 

Extra work......

Only done that once, boring as fcuk but funny as fcuk sitting around doing sod all apart from eating everything in the "green" room and listening to film star "walts" who do that kind of shit for a living.

I did however get approached from a "talent" spotter who wanted to sign me up for his agency, the conversation went well and I felt smug and superior to all the other wannabe actors because I was there for a laugh, they wanted to be spotted, it went really well actually, right up untill I asked what his agency was called.

"Uglies"

Came the relpy.....

 

It's funny as fcuk, some of the deluded twats you meet.

Out of boredom, I spent 10 minutes chatting to a lad about random shit. He told me he was a classically trained actor and was just doing extra work during a dry patch. When I enquired how long he'd been in the dry patch he replied: ''12 years.''

My favourite bloke by far was the 4 para Walt airsofter. He was showing everyone pics of his scarily large collection of plastic guns on his iphone, until an ex IDF hard case came up and called him a prick. Then he sat in the corner sulking for the rest of the day.

 

It's an experiance everyone should do at least once. The amount of self loving mongs out there is unbelievable.

Where I live now is a mecca for TV advert shoots, they are always advertising for extras in the local rag, I'm tempted to put mine and NZB's name forward just for a giggle..... :twisted:

 

A few years ago whilst inbetween wives and trying to supplement my meagre income which was being stolen by the then CSA, I decided to "moonlight" by working at an abitoir, abbet.., slaughterhouse. I had been working there for about 2 months, working my way up from packer to stacker, then onto the fridge rooms hanging the carcasses etc. I got the chance to Zap the Oinkers, befrore they had there throats slit (MMMM), anyway one day I was zapping away, (these electrodes were basically like a big set of pliers, placed either side of the oinkers head, contact, zap, stunned, throat slit, job done) one of these little feckin piggies was a rather wriggly little fucker, just as i was about to zap him he wriggled free, knocked me off balance and BINGO, one electrode either side of my knee, ZAPP !!! 20 trillion volts straight through my Stbd kneecap, Exchiefcook on the floor effin and blindin, unable to walk, rest of slaughteroom staff pissing themselves laffin and one little piggy running around thinking to himself "yer not turning me into bacon you big eared cnut".

Not the worst job I've done, but at times one of the funniest. :scratch: :joker: ain10:

 

Blobs - Is your voice any better these days? I find Strepsils useful.

 

Main leave 1966 took a job in Raymonds Review Bar Soho. Job was applying makeup to the girls naughty bits, pay £10 a week, not much I know but that was all I could afford to pay at the time

 

Cleaning dishes in a galley and getting called a cnut by chefs for doing such a sh1t job and breaking all the crockery.

Infact, I loved that job so much I joined the Navy to carry it on doing DHP.... Good times.

 

£55 a week cleaning stuff, living in a hole and getting fed shite. Mind you I get to spend the winter in the alps and go skiing every day (or I would if there was any fcuking snow!) and I'm on nights this week so I get to watch the last test.

I guess it's not all bad

 

I did that once too, when I did it I believe the position was called OM(ew)

 

Now that there are, by my calculations, 4.7 million people waiting to start Raleigh, surely there must be some of you cunts who are having to wash cars with Polish people for a living?

Come on let's have your burger flipping dits.