carlos21
KING OF REP
Because I don’t want too.
Warehouse Hell
- Thread starter Death
- Start date
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Christ, reminds me of one place I worked, an "outdoor leisure" retailer's warehouse that had just been set up and had literally no security. Me and my mates absolutely rinsed it stupid, walking out of there with £80 skate shoes in our bags, camping gear, clothes, useful travelling stuff. Used to go the pub on the way home and be like "so what did you get tonight"? Only lasted a few weeks before they got the security sorted but we must have had ££££'s out of there before they caught on.
-Rob-
Player Valuation: £15m
I suppose I'd better work harder, pay more taxes and help fund the lifestyle you're entitled to.
Disgruntledgoat
Player Valuation: £50m
Glad to see you're on board. Now hop to it!
Was the warehouse you worked in callled MFI - made for idiots?
Death
I'll take down dat coal powered MG, I tel u Hwat
Is that how it is now is it? I should be expecting daily harassment from you? Just so I’m clear.
Death
I'll take down dat coal powered MG, I tel u Hwat
You wish you had the balls to be unemployed like Carlos.
-Rob-
Player Valuation: £15m
True story
Carry on smoking your weed - you will be fine.... Senecio vulgaris is the best....
sdk
Player Valuation: £35m
I worked in the warehouse of a marine supply company in California for a number of years, picking up big boxes of spooled rope and cases of bottom coat paint and all manner of hardware, schlepping them about, and then putting them down elsewhere. I worked the 3-11:30pm shift so I could save most of the daytime for school and surfing. Here are two anecdotes that I think get to the heart of the Warehousing Experience.
One afternoon, shortly after starting work, I'd no sooner unleashed my safety tether from the order picker (like a forklift but you rise with the forks) than a low rumble began and then turned into a very loud rumble. The entire building shook as if a train were running through it; one of my coworkers later said he'd figured "Gorbachev had changed his mind" and nuked us. But no, it wasn't a train running through the warehouse and it wasn't thermonuclear warfare, it was an earthquake, and the biggest I'd ever experienced as a California native by some margin. The huge industrial shelving units began to sway dramatically and some items began dropping to the warehouse floor. The noise and motion and incipient bombardment led me to reason that my best course of action would be to flee in mortal terror, which I did. A young woman who was the niece of one of my bosses and who was literally running in circles and screaming reached out and grabbed me as I ran past with a look of horribly frightened supplication on her face, but I tore out of her grasp and kept running. Though I'd been close to the center of the warehouse, I was nonetheless the second person out of the building, such was my speed, will, and terror. As it turned out, no one was hurt and everyone got out safely (no thanks to me). The warehouse would remain closed for a week so they could give it a structural going over, looking for damage, and in the time off work I dealt with a multitude of matters specific to living in a town that had just been walloped by a big earthquake, like sweeping up broken glass, figuring out routes across town to avoid damaged bridges, weeping over lost architecture from the town's past, and drinking. For all you avid quakespotters out there, this was the Loma Prieta Earthquake of 1989.
The other anecdote concerns an even more memorable event. Partway through a shift one evening a coworker glided up to me all conspiratorial-like and told me I really, really had to come look at something in the men's room. Being comfortable in my sexuality, I said Sure, Yeah, Okay. He led me to a toilet stall and lo, there in the bowl was the largest turd I'd ever seen. It was HUGE. It looked to be the circumference of a soup can and probably measured about eight or nine inches long, and it was beautifully proportioned, a nearly perfect cylinder that only tapered at the very ends. Stranger still, it was completely alone in the toilet. There were no little bits accompanying it, no toilet paper, and not even any stains elsewhere in the bowl. Practically a museum piece. I left the men's room humbled but inspired, and rushed off to find someone else to induct into the mystery of this perfect poo. Alas, by the end of the evening some philistine had flushed it, leaving witnesses with nothing but a memory and a largely unbelievable story. Speculation ran wild over the next several workdays but we never learned the identity of the artist who'd produced this masterpiece. If I were ever to have a son I'd be tempted to name him after it.
As these two anecdotes suggest, warehousing taught me most of what I know about abject terror and the triumph of the human spirit, respectively.
One afternoon, shortly after starting work, I'd no sooner unleashed my safety tether from the order picker (like a forklift but you rise with the forks) than a low rumble began and then turned into a very loud rumble. The entire building shook as if a train were running through it; one of my coworkers later said he'd figured "Gorbachev had changed his mind" and nuked us. But no, it wasn't a train running through the warehouse and it wasn't thermonuclear warfare, it was an earthquake, and the biggest I'd ever experienced as a California native by some margin. The huge industrial shelving units began to sway dramatically and some items began dropping to the warehouse floor. The noise and motion and incipient bombardment led me to reason that my best course of action would be to flee in mortal terror, which I did. A young woman who was the niece of one of my bosses and who was literally running in circles and screaming reached out and grabbed me as I ran past with a look of horribly frightened supplication on her face, but I tore out of her grasp and kept running. Though I'd been close to the center of the warehouse, I was nonetheless the second person out of the building, such was my speed, will, and terror. As it turned out, no one was hurt and everyone got out safely (no thanks to me). The warehouse would remain closed for a week so they could give it a structural going over, looking for damage, and in the time off work I dealt with a multitude of matters specific to living in a town that had just been walloped by a big earthquake, like sweeping up broken glass, figuring out routes across town to avoid damaged bridges, weeping over lost architecture from the town's past, and drinking. For all you avid quakespotters out there, this was the Loma Prieta Earthquake of 1989.
The other anecdote concerns an even more memorable event. Partway through a shift one evening a coworker glided up to me all conspiratorial-like and told me I really, really had to come look at something in the men's room. Being comfortable in my sexuality, I said Sure, Yeah, Okay. He led me to a toilet stall and lo, there in the bowl was the largest turd I'd ever seen. It was HUGE. It looked to be the circumference of a soup can and probably measured about eight or nine inches long, and it was beautifully proportioned, a nearly perfect cylinder that only tapered at the very ends. Stranger still, it was completely alone in the toilet. There were no little bits accompanying it, no toilet paper, and not even any stains elsewhere in the bowl. Practically a museum piece. I left the men's room humbled but inspired, and rushed off to find someone else to induct into the mystery of this perfect poo. Alas, by the end of the evening some philistine had flushed it, leaving witnesses with nothing but a memory and a largely unbelievable story. Speculation ran wild over the next several workdays but we never learned the identity of the artist who'd produced this masterpiece. If I were ever to have a son I'd be tempted to name him after it.
As these two anecdotes suggest, warehousing taught me most of what I know about abject terror and the triumph of the human spirit, respectively.
Are you Prince Harry?
jaycee
Player Valuation: £60m
Hes Prince Carlos
witchdoc187
Player Valuation: £60m
Yes in school holidays I worked night shifts packing CDs the amount of ecstasy, lsd and weed being consumed in there. Was like a nightclub. Music banging. When I look back it almost sounds enjoyable
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