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The Daily Shithouse


Keith Houchen

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18 hours ago, Hugh Thesz said:

Scott

What is the jacks?

Sorry

Irish slang.

https://theculturetrip.com/europe/ireland/articles/irish-slang-terms-you-need-to-know/
 

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In Ireland, ‘the jacks’ means ‘toilet’, most commonly used to refer to public bathrooms. Every Irish person knowns what this term means, but few know why they use it – indeed it’s difficult to find a solid explanation. Some believe it to be derived from the Tudor English term ‘jakes’, first used in the 16th century.

 

Edited by Tamura
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Donkey's years ago now, but I was a fresh faced 17 year old who just got a "dream job" working for an IT company. In reality I was just taken advantage of by a couple of Tory cunts who ran a shitty IT company. However, this was around 97/98 so the internet was still fairly new, there were lots of places you could learn about all sorts of naughty things that people didn't know about, and operating systems would be vulnerable for ages with bugs.

The best was a program I'd found, I don't recall what it was but it was along the lines of a ping of death type tool, that would cause a BSOD on another computer. My manager was the type of person who loved to put you down constantly, loved to brag about his public school upbringing that no-one gave a shit about and would never give you any credit what so ever for what you did for his fucking company. So this tool became very valuable in the war that myself and my coworker waged against him.

Nothing was better than waiting for him to write up a long email and just before he hit send running this tool and watching his computer throw up the BSOD. He'd be cursing at the computer, but because he was such an ego maniac he couldn't bring himself to ask us minions for help. He spent weeks taking his computer apart, changing parts, reinstalling windows etc. The joy of letting him gloat for a bit because he proclaimed the issue fixed just to fire up the tool once again and dash his hopes was immense.

Eventually Microsoft fixed the issue, the advantage of "them days" when you didn't get daily updates on your computer and instead had to wait ages for a "service pack" to be released, and ended that fun.

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I work in a building with a shopping center on the first 3 floors before extending into an office tower above. The problem is it's only served by one continuous elevator and the local people seem clueless how to operate it. A big thing is people talking no, shouting on their phone in the lift then when a door swings open waddling put to the doorway to check if it's their floor as they can't be arsed or are too stupid to read the led display. This ends up delaying the lift and adding to frustrations. If on occasion one said phone talker does this and moves too far out of the doors I will do my best to press the close button leaving them trapped until another lift reaches them. Another annoyance is the small language schools which have opened in the shopping centre bit on floor 1 and 2 adding to delays. What's especially annoying is there is a direct run of escalators down. They don't even require walking back around the first one it's literally go down one then walk 10 paces and down the second. I was in a particularly grumpy mood the other day and the lift stops to go down the last floor, it opens and 3 staff from the school are standing there. The lift is actually further away than the escalator so I stood at the front of the lift and told them to use the stairs before closing the doors In their shocked faces.

 

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23 hours ago, waters44 said:

So five minutes before he was due to be picked up I meticulously replaced the last A in drama to an ER. His mum walked in to picked him up, this kid immediately starts telling her how my daughter is a drama queen and we all laugh it off. She picks his bag up and clocks the board and takes him home. She didn't say anything but I really hope they spent the evening doing some spelling revision

This reminds me of a favourite bit of persistent workplace shithousing when I worked in a call centre.

There were two managers and two supervisors, and for a while one of the managers only worked half days. She started getting pissy that, during the afternoons when she wasn't working, people kept taking her stapler. It was no different to any other stapler in the office, but she printed out her name on a label - "ANDREA" - and put it on the stapler.

The next day, after she went home, the other manager - Kelvin - and one of the supervisors hid the stapler, but started to get carried away, so they also glued her favourite mug to her desk, glued her jar of Bovril to the shelf, then opened up her jar of paperclips and linked them all together.

The next day, Andrea takes it in uncharacteristically good humour, and plays up to the joke by then printing out labels with her name on and sticking them on everything around her desk - phone, computer, monitor, keyboard, mouse, mug, every bit of stationery, the works. Everyone has a good laugh about it.

As soon as she's left, Kelvin and the supervisor meticulously remove every single label, and replace them with ones saying "ADNREA", as if she had spelled her own name wrong. When she comes back in the next day, she's furious, and neither of the other two are owning up to it, even though she knows it's obviously them. Eventually, while the supervisor is out on lunch, Kelvin produces a stapler from his own desk, with a label on it saying "MELVIN", and proclaims, "see, I told you it wasn't me, the fucker got me as well!". Obviously, Kelvin had done it himself to absolve himself of any blame.

Saturday morning comes around, and management don't work weekends. A few of us are waiting outside for the supervisor to arrive, unlock the door, and let us in. He shows up, we walk in, and see that everything in the office has been labelled. The radiators all have a label saying "RADIATOR", every keyboard has "KEYBOARD", every pot plant has "PLANT", the painting above my desk had "PICTURE". Absolutely everything has a label just saying what it is. There must have been hundreds of them, and it must have taken hours - and it had to have been done either after the office closed at 6pm on Friday, or before it opened at 8am on Saturday. The only thing not labelled correctly is Andrea's stapler, which started it all off, and which was labelled "ADNREAS STAPPLER". Just an absolute masterclass of stretching a joke above and beyond any sense of reasonable response.

More than two years later, having moved to a completely new office, and Kelvin and that supervisor being long gone, I was still finding labels on things I hadn't spotted before. 

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Saw a mum getting her sons care package weighed at the post office as I was collecting the mail and parcels. I caught a glimpse of the address that started with HMP and she was trying to make eye contact with me which usually leads to a request that I wait so I can take their parcel with me. Her son’s a massive massive cunt who once ran up to an unsuspecting bystander and punched him in the back of the head full pelt for a laugh. Needless to say I put my head down and pretended I couldn’t hear her when she said excuse me. The fucking power!

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Driving up the M62 on the way home from work I'm over taking a van on the inside lane.  There is also a car in the outside lane.  Another vehicle is speeding along flashing his lights to get the car on the out side to move over.  I pulled up enough to make a three car barricade so he couldn't get past.  Made my day.

Edited by Dazzer
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22 minutes ago, Dazzer said:

Driving up the M62 on the way home from work I'm over taking a van on the inside lane.  There is also a car in the outside lane.  Another vehicle is speeding along flashing his lights to get the car on the out side to move over.  I pulled up enough to make a three car barricade so he couldn't get past.  Made my day.

That’s beautiful. Driving is prime real estate for excellent shithousery. I’m one of those wankers who slows down or goes at the same speed if someone tailgates trying to get passed as well. I’m a safe and courteous driver, always letting people out and making room for delivery drivers who are probably on a horrific contract trying to make minimum wage but entitled pricks can fuck off. 

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My first office job was for a local authority and the guy training me, Alan, had been there for donkeys years. He was a big old cockney lump, and a lovely bloke.

Of course by the time I'd joined, all the calls were monitored and recorded (including when you put someone on hold/mute as I found out when my manager pulled me aside and asked me to listen back to a call where I called someone a prick whilst they were on hold. Not my proudest moment.)

Alan, on my first day told me it was so much better in the old days when the calls weren't recorded and he regaled me with a tale of when he answered the phone and this chap just absolutely went off on one calling him all the names under the sun for no reason. He let him rant for a few minutes before he stopped and asked the guy if he'd taken his name at the start of the call.

When the guy said no, Alan then said to him "Well, why don't you fucking fuck off then you cunt!"

Of course, when he rang back, everyone denied it was them. A lovely tale that still makes me smile when I think of it.

Top job, where I also saw a Finance Director break down and cry in the middle of the office after someone kept eating his cheese at lunch times, and a Housing Officer get fired in the middle of the day for being steaming drunk and attempt to set a load of confidential files on fire before fleeing.

 

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