Office Collections

I nominate office collections for a cunting.

This is one of those things that starts off as a nice idea. Gladys is retiring after 35 years, and we want to get her a card and something to remember us by.
Unfortunately, it then it gets taken to the fucking extreme and you start having to have a ‘whip round’ because Jane’s split up with her boyfriend (for the umpteenth fucking time,) or Tim in accounts goldfish has died at the weekend and people come around asking for a couple of quid like a mafia protection racket…woe betide anyone who doesn’t want to pay.

I tend to keep quiet when these things go around and discreetly leave the room, mainly because I’m a tight bastard and don’t see why I should give someone money for doing their fucking job. Isn’t that what you get wages for??
Anyway it was found out that I hadn’t put money into the collection for someone. When I explained the reason was that I have only met them when they started and we’ve never said a word to each other because we work in different teams, you’d think I’d admitted to drowning kittens.

Bastards….every one of them

Nominated by The Final Cuntdown

82 thoughts on “Office Collections

  1. Fuck me I hate these things although it’s so satisfying dropping a pound coin into the giant envelope for an utterly spineless cunt who’s leaving.

    There you go, have a chocolate bar on me you wanker.

    • Off-topic, but paedo Epstein friend of Andrew Porchester has been found dead in his prison cell, the cuuuuunt.

      I hope somebody nicks all the documents, and puts them well and truly in the public domaoin.

      Meanwhile, Druncker and Barmier continue to spout their usual bollocks about “Britain will be the loser…”

      I look forward to reading that these two cuuuuunts have been found dead in their panelled wankpits.

      I once stuck a fiver in an office envelope (a leaving do) for someone I really liked. The sad, frustrated office bitch (typical Barry Manilow fan – hair like a Brillo pad, a nylon bra and a truss – could almost be Gideon O – she’d been dumped at the altar – I think someone had a bloody lucky escape) came over to my desk, waived the note in my face, telling me “You can’t put that in there, it’s far too much.”
      After that, if an envelope ever came round, it got one surreptitious copper.
      At the leaving do, I told the intended recipient of the note who and what had happened, and I got a free drink and a kiss.

    • A pound? One of the best responses to an office collection I ever witnessed was when an utter bell end of a deputy manager was leaving. He was hated for being a bad tempered, incompetent and downright nasty cunt but when his PA came round with the brown envelope we all, like total twats, paid up/. Except for one brave soul, when the PA got to him he reached in his pocket and handed her a coin. “Two Pee?” she screamed, indignantly. ”Yes,” He said “I’m sorry but I haven’t got anything smaller”

      It gave the rest of us the courage not to turn up to the cunt’s leaving do

  2. All this sort of shit is driven by women. It’s always women who have to organise this bollocks and know everybody’s birthday and have to make a fuss. If it was left to blokes nobody would bother with all this shit. They’d probably cancel Christmas as well, except for the boozing part obviously.
    If I were an employer I wouldn’t have any women, not even tasty ones with big knockers. Get on with your jobs and stop fucking about you bitches.

    • I see your point Freddy but to exclude tasty birds with big knockers is going a bit to far .
      It’s only the eye candy at my work that keeps me going there.

  3. Always used to put in, stupid cunt that I am. When my Dad died unexpectedly, I didn’t even get a card from the wankers. Utter cunts to a man, when any envelope was then stuck under my nose, it got a swift reply of ‘fuck off you selfish cunts’.

  4. We had a ‘temp’ that left and rejoined the company three times.
    And still the silly do gooder bints came round for money as he is leaving on Friday.
    What, again?
    Fuck right off!

  5. I’ve just bought the wife a ‘get better soon’ card.

    She’s not ill or anything, I just think she could get better….

  6. I used to be part of a large group and went into the office perhaps twice a week. Fuck me they were collecting every fucking time. I gave fuck all and signed no cards. The grasping Yorkie cunts got fuck all off me.

  7. If I’d actually worked with them and they were good craic, they’d get slightly over the odds. If they weren’t a complete cunt and I had met them at least twice a year, I would consider a small, affordable contribution. After all, do as you would be done by, and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this job, myself. If they were a cunt, and/or my awareness of their existence began with the department’s begging email, sorry…no, not sorry—SFA is the allotted amount, and I may stretch to practicing my sarcasm on their leaving card.

  8. I wonder if the staff in Downing Street had a whip round for Mavis when she fucked off?
    Imagine the prezzie you could have bought her. I would have bought her a pair of knee pads and some anti spermicide toothpaste.
    Fucking bitch whore.

    • She’s so useless she took boatloads of EU goo for years and STILL couldn’t get pregnant. Perhaps her hunchback ovaries dried up decades ago.

      I’d have shat in the envelope.

    • I’d have tied up up and used a Singapore cane on her til she had no arse or thighs left.
      That’s the sort of whip round she deserves.
      But in Christ’s name why did the bloody Tories vote her in as leader ? Massive error of judgement.
      Could the Gove wank-puppet have been any worse ? They are neck and neck in the physical repellant stakes…

  9. The office “manager” tart came round poncing for a secretary who had had a flood in her flat. She had no insurance so, the sensible amongst us were supposed to subsidise a feckless cow as she spent the money on fags and booze. As stated elsewhere, the shit I got I may as well admitted to being a kitten-drowner. Fuck them – I couldn’t care less if the tart lost her belongings – a life lesson I say.

    • An office “manager” tart at the same place I mentioned earlier complained that I was taking too much time off work… I was getting atrocious stomach cramps and gale-force fulminating D (which I only ever had working at that place…): I said to my section leader “Oh, her..I thought she was part-time.” He replied that she was “on the sick” more often than I was.

      She was so obese that special arrangements for her “evacuation” in case of fire had to be made. My aforementioned section leader was the fire warden for our floor, and he sent round the necessary Elf’n’Safety email, which was none too complimetary (A gang of strong Naaarge lads required to manhandle Trace down the stairs, or something similar). Funnily, he hit “reply to all”, and he hadn’t deleted her name from the recipients list. Oh dear, much blubbing, wailing and gumming of flabby chops…

  10. Only ever put in for people in the company of 400+ that I knew, liked and respected.

    Which to be honest was not that often.

    Not interested in the rest, who as far as I was concerned could fuck off.

    • With you there, Willie. I only ever contributed if I liked someone, which was hardly ever. Didn’t give a fuck what they thought, it was what I thought that counted. I earned my money, unlike most of them, especially the women. Lazy bastards. Stick your collections up your arse.

  11. I have established a solid reputation in this area.
    When asked by the prettiest admin in the office to contribute to children in need my response was a very loud “You can get fucked. Fuck children in need.”
    Needless to say no-one has asked me for money since. Even when chipping in for a new kettle I get told not to worry about it.

    Result.

    • My question would be “why are the children in need?”

      Nowadays I guess the answer would be “Because muh brexit”.

      Remoaner cunts.

      • Well, nearly 50yrs and billions later, the whole of Africa is now just like Wakanda isn’t it.

        Besides they no longer need white saviours, David Lammy said so.

        Amazingly enough, none of the big charadee outfits dared call the bigoted, racist cunt out on this for fear of being called waycist themselves.

        The delicious irony of it!

        Besides, most of the Africunts will be in Europe soon anyway thanks to the EU, UN and George “Palpatine” Soros!

  12. They always leave the envelopes in a top drawer so when the collector fucks off for lunch make a big thing of going to the drawer, opening the envelope, putting your hand way in there, and then leave fuck all in it!

    The office gob-shites will notice and will let the collector in charge know, thus guaranteeing that they breeze past you on the way to pestering known non-contributors, rattling the envelope as they go…

    Simples!

    • I’d dip it and pocket most of it, then look shocked that someone would do such a horrific thing. Fucking office cunts.

  13. Lovely cunting.

    I love no longer working in an office. I can tske it or leave it. But when they shake the fucking envelope at you like a big issue… get tae fuck.

    • Never worked in a office so never encountered this, wouldnt want to seem tight fisted, as im not by nature a penny pinching bloke,
      But if it was for someone i didnt like,
      Wouldnt want to give,
      Definitely wouldnt if a fuckin peaceful!
      Dont know really ?
      Dont care, fuck it pop a quid in.

      • I always had an excuse lined up. I am a tight fisted bastard when it comes to giving £ away.

        Like you said; if it was a close colleague or someone who was genuinely nice or could do their job properly; I would contribute.

        But before I worked in engineering; in an office full of cunts watching love island and big brother… not a chance. The fuckers had enough £ out of me by stealing by milk.

  14. In a previous workplace, they were collecting for Children in Need. I was on the phone when one of the sanctimonious cunts came to my desk. He carried on walking around the office collecting, but I noticed that he kept his eye on me, waiting for me to come off the phone. I finished the call but pretended to remain on the line. Then when he fucked off somewhere else, I put the phone down. The cunt then came back and made a beeline for my desk, I picked up the phone again on purpose, just to piss him off. That felt good, can’t stand that children in need or red nose day shite.

  15. Surprised no ones cunted red nose day, or have they already?
    Assume large offices do something for it?
    Fuck that.

    • As a self employed construction worker, I don’t usually get the chance to sit in a bath of beans to raise money for the starving architectural studies group. People in offices always seem to have a lot of time to Fuck around on cunt book and other complete fucking bollocks social media. Utter fucking nothing to do at work cunts.

  16. You can drop “collections” from the cunting, just call it office. I fucking hated it. Suit and tie, working with cunts you hate, trying to see if the brown flecks in the ceiling tile has the shape of an elephant during board meetings, bored meetings, work-a-holic cunts, cunts who dont use all their holiday, but THE fucking worse, weekend team building retreats where I basically drunk myself into oblivion.

    • I once went to an annual do in Eastbourne where I got so fed up of the wankers I worked with that I got shit-faced and fell asleep on the floor behind a nice white leather sofa in the lobby.

  17. Anyone that wants money off me can fuck themselves with a chainsaw.
    One of the reasons I hate the idea of remain.
    One of the reasons I hate beggars.
    One of the reasons I hate charidee.
    I don’t care if it’s a penny or a pound or forty billion euros.
    It’s my money. MINE.
    Fuck off cunts.

  18. It’s a marvellous way to get rid of that small collection of dull pennies and tuppences that seem to gather in your top drawer…
    Or make out an IOU for a couple of hundred.
    And why’s it usually some cunt wishing to be sponsored for going trekking in Nepal or something similar. For charity, naturally.
    If fit birds came round offering sponsored BJ’s for a tenner though…

      • It was only a mild stroke, Cap’n. The stupid cow has got back the use of her legs okay; her speech is still rather odd.
        A stroke at 45 fucking years old!
        Undoubtedly there’s a major one (hopefully terminal) on the way.

        • There’s nothing more warming than sibling love.

          I wouldn’t mind a mild stroke as long as it were from Pritti Patel.

      • Upon reading this I thought you were talking about his car with a timing chain.

        My old Celica had a death rattle to it. Fucked it off post-haste.

  19. Epstein’s “suicide”!
    About as convincing as all the people connected to the Clintons who “committed suicide” with three shots to the back of head.

    • Don’t usually do conspiracy theories, but this one’s very tempting. Cunt was put on suicide watch after first suicide or “suicide” attempt, then taken off suicide watch (not likely to try again? Really?) before the next one. Doubt if it was Phil the Greek, though, more likely Donnie the Trump. There was more than sexual crime hanging on this one. Epstein undoubtedly knew where a lot of bodies were buried.

      • Those named in the recent allegations do not include Trump. Though I’m sure this minor issue will not stop those with Trump derangement syndrome blaming him.

        • Trump and he have some previous, though, and rancorous previous at that. Sure, Epstein knew the shit had hit the fan and had every reason to do it himself, but it doesn’t look as if anyone was working too hard to prevent him.

          We may be certain that if, after Epstein’s first suicide attempt (if it was that) the prison governor had been advised that it was essential Epstein faced trial, and the governor’s balls would be in the grinder should anything happen to Epstein, the cunt would still be alive….so that elementary precaution wasn’t taken.

          I see no reason to exclude Trump from the enquiry. Or Prince Andrew’s family. Or….the man had a lot of suddenly ex-friends, Including Wexler, from whom he appears to have embezzled an awful lot of money, rather successfully.

    • Another thought….perhaps (as he’s a billionaire), he’s been smuggled out of the prison and taken to a very private plastic surgery clinic. One wonders if he will be “buried at sea” within three days and no body ever presented, like Osama Bin Musl1m…

  20. Ohh, well-cunted Sir.
    I’ve worked in a few offices down the years and these, like parties, ‘leaving-do drinks’, Christmas Dinners, Secret Santa, and any excursion, are fucking horrible.
    Maybe I’m a miserable git but I was brought up to be polite so I can be civilised to colleagues without having this matey shit forced onto me.
    Do the job and be paid. I dislike even signing the card. Why must I waste precious minutes on a halfwit I don’t even know? I detest these things.

    • There are about 120 people in the office I work in so these things come around with tedious regularity. If I like the person I’ll put something in,if it is a cunt I despise,I ask where the Good Riddance or Fuck Off and Die card is because I’ll sign that. The card companies are missing a trick there.

    • Oh yes. Christmas dinners. In which two conversations occur.
      1. People talking to people they talk to every day, about the stuff they talk about every day. They do not talk to people they do not talk to every day, and know better than to try.
      2. Cunts greasing up the boss.

      Forget it. I’ll have a bah humbug instead.

  21. Praise the good lord I’ve never worked in office with all its associated bollocks, secret Santa what the fuck is that about all, arranged by females who would be better employed doing what they are paid to do. It’s called work for a reason not time wasting, soppy tarts trying to form their pathetic hierarchy to make themselves feel important.
    Probably wear those stupid lanyards with name and rank on . Thank fuck I worked outside on my own.

  22. Ive never worked in an office and have been self employed most of my working life. The nearest is a round at the pub but usually there’s only 5 or 6 of us.

    The office collection idea is open to abuse by the collector.

  23. Office collections in other parts of the world…
    I was asked to tip in for Ahmed one of the drivers.
    Why?
    Broken leg
    But I just saw him
    No the guy on a motorbike
    What?
    The motorcyclist turned in front of Ahmed on a blind crest in dust and Ahmed hit him.
    But it’s his fault
    No [here] it’s the bigger vehicles fault
    But then surely the driver contractor company should be insured against this
    Erm no
    So we here in the office have to bail him out?
    Yep

  24. About a year ago or so Mrs WCC and I were minding our own business sitting on a bench in the lovely market town of Tavistock. After around ten minutes we were approached by two libtard septuagenarians with a collecting bucket. After a brief discussion it transpired they were collecting for funds to build a new drop-in centre for refugees. Suffice to say they were told, more or less, to get to fuck, the cunts.

    Even Mrs WCC was impressed with swift outcome of our discussion.

  25. Office collections are utter bollocks. A whole load of show.

    I was lucky in so much as I rarely got collared into giving towards a collection as I worked permanent nights, so I avoided the bloody tin rattler who had started the damned collection (unless our shifts coincided)

    They pissed me off when I did get collared, though. Usually it was an endless stream of bloody collections every time a nurse or colleague either:

    (A) Got up the fucking duff and was going on maternity leave

    or

    (B) Was leaving (which was every bloody five minutes with the NHS staff turnover)

    It made me laugh when I resigned from my first hospital nursing position after a shit storm clash of heads with the management. The bouquet of flowers, a gift voucher and a card signed by all of the bitches who I couldn’t stand, nor they me, signing it with sweet farewells and wishes of good luck., the two-faced cows.

    That alone confirmed to me that work place collections are total bullshite.

    • In one job I did years ago I picked my last day to call out the faker who claimed to have a debilitating illness and had successfully claimed all sorts from the state, including a fucking car.
      On top of that she was a fucking cow to everyone all the time.
      Anyway, on route to the target area I was waylaid by a manager who explained that if I couldn’t leave it alone I had better call it an early finish and fuck off home.

      Ok then, I said, see you later. (early finish? Of fucking course!)

      And after all that they still gave me a leaving gift ha ha ha a bottle of vodka!
      Pussy cunts. Ha ha ha. What a bunch of dipshits.

  26. There was a Chinese lady researcher for whom I worked, and with whom I got on rather well (professionally only, sorry to say). She had major domestic problems and her funding dried up, leaving her in something of a multiple bind. None, but none of her alleged colleagues offered any moral support, and they tended to exclude her from the in-crowd. Eventually, she left – for a better institution – and the collection envelope went the rounds. When she left, there was a presentation of flowers and not much else, from aforesaid colleagues, which I attended (as moral support), and was privileged to witness a half hour of excoriating…praise and thanks to the department in reply to the ‘so sorry you’re pissing off, but we’ll get over it’ speech by the boss.

    She went right over the top. It was pure sarcasm with a sweet smile, and even a little sob. A masterly performance, and the audience increasingly resembled the uneasy Python lumberjacks – “We dress in womens’ clothes????”. Afterwards she asked me, “Komodo, do you think I was too hard on them?” I replied that she hadn’t been hard enough, and we parted still friends. I have made it a rule since never to piss off Chinese researchers, though.

  27. Hollywood star Richard Gere has called upon the Italian government to assist migrants who have been stranded on a Spanish charity boat in the Mediterranean for more than a week.

    None of your business Dick so keep your fucking big hooter out of it.

    Cunt.

    • Too right, willie.

      I fucking hate celebrity do gooders. They get off on the fact that they are ‘standing up for the little people’, showboating wankers.

      They don’t live in the REAL world, like the rest of us plebs. It is easy to have a social conscience when you don’t have to deal with the shit brought to shores by migrants. He is buffered from reality in his Beverly Hills mansion or wherever the hell he resides, interfering asshole.

  28. I worked for a while in a call centre. A few decent blokes in my group,who,like me,couldn’t have given one fuck about the job and looked out for one another,since we were mostly skiving cunts. But most of the others there were the kind of cunts we all love to hate- blue hair,large dopey earrings, tofu chomping. Lots of shirtlifters/lezzas, with dozens of rainbow flags about the place,and a high percentage if Lammy lookalikes and peacefuls.So it gave me great pleasure to refuse every single time someone-usually a dizzy bint from H.R.- came round with her hand out either for a member of staff or for “charidee”. Not one fucking penny did I hand over. I sometimes donate to charity,so I don’t need some grinning cowbag trying to coax more moolah out of me. And as for the collections for staff members I barely know,yet still despise,they can get fucked.

  29. I’m delighted to always refuse to give a single penny to any and all collections.
    I’m well known to be a cunt so they can fuck off.
    Nicely crafted cunting thank you.

      • Ah, thanks for clearing that up. There isn’t really any way of finding out which monikers are taken on the site, is there? Good cunting, by the way.

  30. I’m with you on this. Gladys, or Barbara, or fucking Tracey, only worked there for 145 years because no one else would’ve employed her. They’re a total cunt to deal with. Everything was better… 10, 20, 100 years ago at the company. Always have to bog down an already shitty, pointless, meeting with how x, y, z change has been tried before etc. and how the company is shit to work for now. The company is shit, but it probably always was. Watching your pruned mouth that resembles a tortoises puckered arsehole won’t change that. Eat your fucking cake and disappear from our lives, you genuinely be forgotten within hours of leaving. And make sure you take your scented candles and half dead bouquet of flowers that I didn’t contribute a goddamn penny towards.

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