Occupations Relying on Past Glories

kfc1

Brownlow Medallist
Oct 27, 2010
10,752
9,708
AFL Club
Essendon
Postie
Used to get big cash bonuses around christmas. Porking sexy sex wives on deliveries and often some very intresting gun fights in the office. Nowdays wearing some crappy lime green uniform delivering junk mail

on a bicycle some more!

No bored housewife wants a piece of your sweaty box after you've been riding for 3 hours in 40 degree heat
 
This thread is outstanding.

The sudafed thing is spot on.

I have a bad nasal passage on one side and get regular sinus infections.

When I want a box, I get looked at like a drug addict.

Go figure.
 

Ross Prunster

Team Captain
Aug 16, 2009
525
748
Perth
AFL Club
Carlton
Office Clerk
Change from $5 for a bourbon & coke? Groping a fellow worker and not getting a sexual harassment charge? These were the glory days when Rumours, Gobbles and Pinnochios formed the golden triangle of Perth late night entertainment, and a young, slack fellow, who got through high school by his wits and boyish good looks, could aspire to a humdrum job in an office, counting down the hours till he hit the turps hard on a Friday night.
Sundowners, RDO's, tea ladys, clandestine roots, these were the hallmarks of the office johnny. Not just for the fellas, countless young lasses would find themselves in the employ of insurance companies, banks, and the granddaddy of them all, the public service, waiting for their prince charming to come and take them away to a lifetime of marital and domestic bliss. An 8.30 start, a 30 minute conversation with the good sort in the next section, trying to look interested as she told you about the movie she saw with her boyfriend the night before, all the while you try not to get caught staring at her ample bossom, straining and teasing to burst out of her practical, yet seductive blouse.
At the stroke of 9, off for a 45 minute dump, before coming back for a couple of token phone calls before 10.15 morning tea. Up to the canteen, a little flirting with the post menopausal canteen lady, sending a shiver to the driest of her regions, before the hardest time of the day - the 11.30 - 1.00pm grind, where you bust your arse trying to look busy, while all the while debating with yourself whether Karen from accounts, or Debbie from claims would be the better root. At 12.30 you mumble something to your supervisor about chasing up a claim, but you go and have a yarn to your mate at security, before heading up to the canteen for the $4 Schnitzel, salad and chips. And here's where the flirting reaps its reward, as Valda gives you half a dozen more chips than anyone else, and gently brushes your hand as she hands your dollar change back. A quick 30 minute burst on the Social Club table tennis table, where you blitz the postal room blokes, once again re-asserting your office dominance and showing off your superior athletic prowess to the two ugly membership section girls, who no one wants to sit with.
The afternoon slows a little, your supervisor doesn't care, they're 4 flights above brown nosing with their superiors in the hope of a $9 a week raise. Sitting at your desk, a pained expression on your face that warns anyone that comes near that you're snowed under, you get up and have a speculative wander into the copy room to see if you can get a cheap grope, keep wandering, paperwork in hand, have a conversation with the manager of claims, who you have a strange rapport with since he was full of piss and bummed a durry off you 2 christmas sundowners ago. The same sundowner that the bubbly and evervescent, and recently engaged Sally, had a few too many midori and lemonades, and got chopped up by Mitch, from the recently established computer department. Expecting her first child now, lucky man her husband.
To the highlight of the day, when the accounts department bring around the payslip, and the real work of the day gets done. Only 30 minutes till knock off, and you have to figure out whether your measly wage will stretch to having an absolute blinder on Friday night, and going to the strippers, or spending the night at home with a Papa Guissepes, watching Fitzroy take on North Melbourne, saving your dough to shove down a dirty girls G-string on a boozy Saturday night.
Then arrived the efficiency experts, departments shrank, then came the computer networks, they shrank some more, accountability was demanded, more shrinkage than a mid winter swim, the online business, sending work off shore, as well as looking to employ the best candidate. To deliver the coup de grace, Joe Hockey demands, in a case of grand irony, belt tightening across the land, and hence the care free, drunken, slack arse days of the office clerk are all but dead.
 

Hipster Doofus

Bigfooty's Neighbour
Feb 14, 2011
11,886
9,170
Apartment 5B
AFL Club
Richmond
Other Teams
Sacramento Kings
Praising the Lord .gif


Outstanding
 

courtjester

Cancelled
Aug 14, 2008
3,251
1,683
victoria
AFL Club
Richmond
The General Practitioner.

Once upon a time, the general practitioner was a font of knowledge on all things, and a trusted confidante of all people in their community. He was white haired. He ran his own clinic with his partners, employing dowdy, but for the most part friendly, middle aged women as his receptionists. Their waiting rooms were warm and felt like a lounge room away from your own lounge room.

Dealing with not only the physical ailments of the body, but also the emotional ailments of all those who were happy to confide in him, his patients could be sure in the knowledge that what they discussed with him during their thorough 20-30 minute consultation would be dealt with professionally and confidentially. The GP could be relied upon in times of trouble, and was often contactable at night to come out when little Johnny had a bad tummy ache, or when dad chopped half his hand off with the axe. The loved and concerned GP would administer some gripe water, or a few stitches, before returning in the dark to his abode cheerfully in the knowledge that he was serving his community in an important role.

Now, GPs work in mega clinics. Harried for time, they simply dispense either or all of the following: sick certificates, antibiotics, and pseudoephedrine for junkies.
 
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