Your worst job?

So - what's the worst job you ever had?

Mine was packing Bassett's Liquorice Allsorts in their Sheffield factory.

I had to sit on an uncomfortable seat with a box of Bertie Bassett's finest in front of me. All the packers sat in a line facing the back of the slave in front - so no conferring. We weighed out the allsorts, added one of these .......

......... (or two for the M&S bags) and tipped them all into a box on the conveyor belt.

Oh and we could eat as many as we liked.

A doddle I thought.

I was wrong. When the buzzer sounded our release I had a bad back, bleeding fingers (round the nails) and felt sick and bloated after overdosing on liquorice.

I didn't last the week.


The idiot who wrote this book (obviously I haven't read it) must think all jobs are fulfilling and life enhancing.

This could be my gran in t'mill.


Perhaps you've never had a job like these.



But - what's the worst job YOU ever had?
KAZ

Trainers

click to big

I really love Victoria station.

You can still imagine the hordes of excited mill workers starting off at the beginning of Wakes week for holidays in Blackpool or Morecambe.

But I wasn't really surprised yesterday that Manchester Victoria was named the worst station in the UK.

(BTW - where was everyone when I took the photo last year? It's usually very busy.)

The Ladies is still beautiful and there is sometimes one that's in working order.

I hope they don't ruin everything with the makeover.

Last week I travelled from Victoria to Stalybridge. It was the train that comes to rest on the buffers of Stalybridge station eschewing the marvels of Mossley and the glories of Greenfield.

Two lads sat opposite. They had been doing a bit of shopping. The skinnier one had a posh, shiny yellow Selfridge's carrier bag. The other had shopped at Primark (not posh).

The skinny one couldn't wait to open his lovely bag.

I was all agog.

Out came a box and, out of that, emerged some trainers like this.


He looked proudly at the receipt and showed it to his cheapo Primark mate.

I gave him a smile.

I was so glad I hadn't worn my latest trainers which are identical - he would have been completely mortified.
KAZ

Wait your Turn!

My female colleagues and I were in that pub on Ardwick Green having an animated chat while eating our sandwich and chips. A bloke walks past, stops in amazement, and says 'You're all talking at once ...... but you're listening as well".

Well now it's official.

Brain scans have recognised and explained it and I read about it in Stylist Magazine given free with the Manchester Evening News.

Men are unable to talk and listen at the same time.

You have to let them finish before you speak - unless you fall asleep before it's your turn. And it's also not always a lie when a bloke say "Nothing" in response to the dreaded question "What are you thinking about darling?"

Research on the male brain shows that they can turn it off completely.

They often turn it off during an argument.

So what have we learned today readers?

There is no future to the male - female relationship unless you have excellent sex and a good telly.

Or is this a pessimistic view?
KAZ

It's coming around again

Do you recognise the bloke in the picture?
He was our toff Prime Minister for a couple of years in the early 60s. We were used to toffs in those days.

Here's a list of British Prime ministers so you can see what I've had to put up with during my life.

I came from a left wing family and my dad was a keen member of leftie associations and book clubs. My dad would read and my mum would rant.

So it's very odd that I was devoted to my Royal Family scrap book. No I don't understand it either - just one of those things that we didn't question.

Harold Wilson 'released' us from the Toff Tories, then Uncle Jim Callaghan lost to Thatcher. Thatcher, Heath, Major etc. were a different type of (state educated) Tory and possibly worse. You know what I think of Blair & co. but they did make some valuable social changes.

But, reading this article and Geoff's post at the weekend made me realise that (in the words of Carly Simon)

I know nothing stays the same
But if you're willing to play the game
It's coming around again
So don't mind if I fall apart
There's more room in my broken heart

KAZ

What not to wear.

This notice has appeared on the pub in Rassbottom Street.

I presume these rules apply to men. Surely they wouldn't mind women in work wear.

But I'd like to add a few to the list - these are mainly for the women.

NO Orange tans

NO Black tights with white shoes.
NO Leggings with short tops - unless you have one of these.

NO Sequinned boob tubes with micro minis, black killeer heels and bare legs. (Come on girls - You know you'll be rat-arsed before chucking out time)

NO Full hijab. Not a good outfit for beer drinking and the pub needs to make a profit.


NO SJP

Click to see the full horrendousness.

KAZ

The Corncrake

I promised I'd tell you about Friend A. You remember - the one with two cups of tea to drink.

It was Sunday evening a few weeks ago - I was relaxing on the squashy sofa with a preprandial Sauvignon.

Phone rings - friend A speaks "I'm so angry I have to talk to someone - can you spare a few minutes?"

Kaz (impressed by A’s improvement in social skills) says 'yes' and tries desperately to remember the half day course in counselling skills she took in 1996.

A very long conversation followed. Later, I ate my dinner with the smug air of a good Samaritan.

The e mail arrived the following morning.

'A real friend wouldn't say some of the things you said yesterday .... You said you didn't want me to be upset - I wasn't upset I WAS ANGRY!!!! '

It continued..……. on .. and on ...

***Now I don't know much.***

But If I sat in this chair I would have to choose British Birds as my special subject.

Next day’s e mail said ‘You implied that wasn’t a corncrake I spotted, surely you know me well enough by now to know that I would know.’

Trust me on this one. The corncrake doesn't live in the north of England and if it did (as the name suggests) it would be unlikely to be in A's back yard

Tonight I go out with my other pals - the ones with scintillating social skills - for a very late birthday celebration .

I just hope they don't give up on me - I haven’t got many friends left.
KAZ