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14 Aug 14
18:00
Joined:
Date Joined:
28 Aug 07
some musical memories from that year on vintage tv now,for an hour
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they're showing highlights from henley 80s festival on 129 now
I was selling my first house and doing everything possible to avoid listening to The Smiths
I spent the Summer of '86 in San Antonio, Ibiza doing mad stuff.
Guess who's bored tonight...
Living in Downham, Kent (but it's now called south east London)
Working in Canning Town as a warehouse supervisor.
A wages argument was started by the fairly new works manager, who didn't gross as much wages as me the previous year.
I had refused to go on to the staff payroll as I knew I wouldn't get paid overtime, which I worked loads of, and fiddled loads of, for my team.
A supervisor is only as good as the team behind him, and I had ‘cherry-picked’ mine from other companies.
We had 3 warehouses, each with it's own supervisor. It was accepted for years before I started that the supervisor of the one I now supervised, was the senior supervisor, as we were by far the busiest of the 3 warehouses.
The pay was the same, but the say of how things were run was in this warehouses lap as 75% of the staff worked in this one.
I can't work anywhere, for any amount of money, where the staff can't have a laugh.
While I was away for two days, (I went to Hull and back) one of my staff stencilled 'GF' on my office door in 9 inch letters.
When I asked what it was, he said 'General Foreman' and nothing was said by ‘upstairs'.
Some weeks later, winding up the new Works Manager, who didn't come down to the warehouse very often, my mate came in and asked to speak to me. He was leaving a few hours early to go on his holidays, and when I shook his hand to say goodbye, he bowed his head, kissed it and said ‘Thank you Don Pellicci.‘
I thought ‘What the fack?1/!?!’
Works manager looked at him and said to him 'What’s that all about, Pat?'
Patsy opened the office door, pointed to the 'GF' on it, and said 'God Father.’ and walked off smiling to himself.
Works manager had no sense of humour and was fuming, but as he stormed out of my office, my second in command bumped into him.
'What's up with you?' he asked the works manager.
'Him,' he said, nodding at me 'you'd think he owned the facking place.'
Andrew said 'I thought he did.'
After some time, with an increased workload, it became apparent to all that the works manager wasn't up to the task. We were losing contracts we had had for years, and getting crap ones in their place, which meant my staff, as well as other departments, weren't getting much overtime.
By September most of my staff who had families had applied for council rent and rate rebates as they now had no overtime at all.
5 staff with a combined service of over 100 years, had left for other warehouses.
At the end of October 1986, a few of us wrote letters to Head Office in Kensington, expressing our concerns about the works manager.
But the upper echelons, being nobheads, wouldn’t sack him. It was their decision to take him on, and they weren’t going to take any notice of a group of eastenders.
Business became dire when one of our major clients moved from Wembley to Leicestershire, which was too far for our lorry to do his usual two runs a day. Rather than pay the female staff redundancy he gave them crap jobs to do, like cleaning the toilets, painting walls and doors, sweeping the yards, so that they left.
Things got worse by the start of 1987 and I had had enough. Of my own team in my warehouse there were just 5 left of 36.
We had to rely on agency staff, who were nothing short of useless.
At the beginning of March, I sent a final letter to Head Office, a long winded load of ‘virtual begging‘ to show ’how grateful’ I was to work there. In short it amounted to ‘Get rid of the works manager, and I can get my staff back, and all our old contracts. I’ll stay as supervisor, we don’t need a manager. This saves you a wage packet every month.’
The snotty nosed bastards wouldn’t go for it.
I left the company, with 3 of the last 5 of the original staff,on 16th March.
They sacked the works manager on the 23rd March.
The place closed down for good in July.
6 years and 4 months of my life - wasted.
Living in Downham, Kent (but it's now called south east London)
Working in Canning Town as a warehouse supervisor.
A wages argument was started by the fairly new works manager, who didn't gross as much wages as me the previous year.
I had refused to go on to the staff payroll as I knew I wouldn't get paid overtime, which I worked loads of, and fiddled loads of, for my team.
A supervisor is only as good as the team behind him, and I had ‘cherry-picked’ mine from other companies.
We had 3 warehouses, each with it's own supervisor. It was accepted for years before I started that the supervisor of the one I now supervised, was the senior supervisor, as we were by far the busiest of the 3 warehouses.
The pay was the same, but the say of how things were run was in this warehouses lap as 75% of the staff worked in this one.
I can't work anywhere, for any amount of money, where the staff can't have a laugh.
While I was away for two days, (I went to Hull and back) one of my staff stencilled 'GF' on my office door in 9 inch letters.
When I asked what it was, he said 'General Foreman' and nothing was said by ‘upstairs'.
Some weeks later, winding up the new Works Manager, who didn't come down to the warehouse very often, my mate came in and asked to speak to me. He was leaving a few hours early to go on his holidays, and when I shook his hand to say goodbye, he bowed his head, kissed it and said ‘Thank you Don Pellicci.‘
I thought ‘What the fack?1/!?!’
Works manager looked at him and said to him 'What’s that all about, Pat?'
Patsy opened the office door, pointed to the 'GF' on it, and said 'God Father.’ and walked off smiling to himself.
Works manager had no sense of humour and was fuming, but as he stormed out of my office, my second in command bumped into him.
'What's up with you?' he asked the works manager.
'Him,' he said, nodding at me 'you'd think he owned the facking place.'
Andrew said 'I thought he did.'
After some time, with an increased workload, it became apparent to all that the works manager wasn't up to the task. We were losing contracts we had had for years, and getting crap ones in their place, which meant my staff, as well as other departments, weren't getting much overtime.
By September most of my staff who had families had applied for council rent and rate rebates as they now had no overtime at all.
5 staff with a combined service of over 100 years, had left for other warehouses.
At the end of October 1986, a few of us wrote letters to Head Office in Kensington, expressing our concerns about the works manager.
But the upper echelons, being nobheads, wouldn’t sack him. It was their decision to take him on, and they weren’t going to take any notice of a group of eastenders.
Business became dire when one of our major clients moved from Wembley to Leicestershire, which was too far for our lorry to do his usual two runs a day. Rather than pay the female staff redundancy he gave them crap jobs to do, like cleaning the toilets, painting walls and doors, sweeping the yards, so that they left.
Things got worse by the start of 1987 and I had had enough. Of my own team in my warehouse there were just 5 left of 36.
We had to rely on agency staff, who were nothing short of useless.
At the beginning of March, I sent a final letter to Head Office, a long winded load of ‘virtual begging‘ to show ’how grateful’ I was to work there. In short it amounted to ‘Get rid of the works manager, and I can get my staff back, and all our old contracts. I’ll stay as supervisor, we don’t need a manager. This saves you a wage packet every month.’
The snotty nosed bastards wouldn’t go for it.
I left the company, with 3 of the last 5 of the original staff,on 16th March.
They sacked the works manager on the 23rd March.
The place closed down for good in July.
6 years and 4 months of my life - wasted.
I was offered 3 jobs in 86 at Hamburg, Fulham and a local firm. Ended up working for the local one as the wife to be did not want to leave mummy.
final year at uni. lived in Ilford, full of cockernees with strange accents.
In Torquay for the summer and the night England lost to Argntina ended up with this Swedish stunner from the language school down there, shame I got so pissed 
call me a taxi , how old where you when you where team leader , if ou dont mind me asking
TheChaser 15 Aug 14 08:30
call me a taxi , how old where you when you where team leader , if ou dont mind me asking
I was 29 when I started there, in charge at 31.
call me a taxi , how old where you when you where team leader , if ou dont mind me asking
I was 29 when I started there, in charge at 31.
2 Years. I'm on my third retirement but probably not my last.
Moved into my current home on 1.8.86.Paid £73K as I recall,maybe worth about £600K or upwards now and how sad is that for young people these days.Conceived my first child,or so my wife would have me believe,a few months later(it was my daughter's birthday yesterday),so all in all a year to remember.
On this day in 1986 , was getting married for the 2nd time, at Bromley,Kent,
And yes, still going strong 28 years later.
hennigan
ex poker forum
And yes, still going strong 28 years later.
hennigan
ex poker forum
Watching Super Ted and He-man, eating Spaghetti hoops
Thinking that if the internet could be invented, I would invent a simple bet matching web-site.
And it would be simple - no complexity
Then I woke up and had to go to work.
And it would be simple - no complexity
Then I woke up and had to go to work.
86/87 Definitely the most reckless years of my like. Drank like a maniac and ended up in plenty of trouble because of it. Luckily got away with it.
Think the worst occasion was when I smashed through the glass of the front door with my fist because I couldn't get the door key to work. The police woke me up. Turned out it wasn't my front door.
curiosity cat
Yes indeed, Boiling hot day too.
Was in Bromley all last week.How it has changed.
WE live in Stockport now. Had a nice meal with family in that new Turkish place.Very popular by the look of it.
Hennigan
Yes indeed, Boiling hot day too.
Was in Bromley all last week.How it has changed.
WE live in Stockport now. Had a nice meal with family in that new Turkish place.Very popular by the look of it.
Hennigan
back in 86 someone hammered on our front door ... it turned out it was the neighbour's ex.
don't remember glass being smashed though.
don't remember glass being smashed though.
Anyway we smashed her fence in in 1987 when a tree got blown over 
curious cat
senility has got me. Was 27 years today not 28.
hennigan
senility has got me. Was 27 years today not 28.
hennigan
Doubt they actually broke in and fell asleep in your bed thinking it was their own bed cc.
nice of the police to put you right though CLYDEBANK29
call me a taxi
15 Aug 14 11:22
Joined:
02 Oct 03
| Topic/replies: 3,714 | Blogger: call me a taxi's blog
TheChaser 15 Aug 14 08:30
call me a taxi , how old where you when you where team leader , if ou dont mind me asking
I was 29 when I started there, in charge at 31.
2 yeasr and running the joint
I did work there for about 4 months in 1973. But I moved too far away to Rochester, which meant getting up far too early to get there. But that was in their old building about half a mile away.
When I went back, this was their new 'flagship' building, they now had this, plus the old one, plus a smaller one two miles away. I had changed a lot physically, and my old boss, a blinding bloke, never recognised me at all.
I told him I had worked there before at the interview, which was just before Xmas. He asked me a few questions, which I answered, and then pointed out of the window at somebody.
'What's his name?' he asked.
I told him.
He said 'I still don't recognise you.'
I asked him for a piece of paper, and wrote something on it, and gave it back to him. He read it, then put it in his pocket and said 'Okay, you've worked here before.'
I'm nothing if not confident. I said 'The bloke in charge out there there has turned your hair grey, it was black in 1973, and the place looks a shambles.'
He just smiled and gave me a start date.
The supervisor was an ex-docker who was about 62. He had blagged his way in, his brother-in-law and nephew also worked there.
The first thing I saw him write out was a 'goods-in' slip for 'Engine Mountains' (not mountings) .
I knew then that his days were numbered.
I wound him up with my first wage packet. I said 'That's handy Jack, the boss has paid me for the xmas holiday, and I only started on January 5th. He was fuming, the vein in his forehead was going mental.
He was so thick it was unreal that he was in charge.
He came down from the office about 9 months later, and said to Ginger (who was grey ffs) 'Guess what Ginge, I just found out I'm only 64 next week, not 65.'
WAC
When I went back, this was their new 'flagship' building, they now had this, plus the old one, plus a smaller one two miles away. I had changed a lot physically, and my old boss, a blinding bloke, never recognised me at all.
I told him I had worked there before at the interview, which was just before Xmas. He asked me a few questions, which I answered, and then pointed out of the window at somebody.
'What's his name?' he asked.
I told him.
He said 'I still don't recognise you.'
I asked him for a piece of paper, and wrote something on it, and gave it back to him. He read it, then put it in his pocket and said 'Okay, you've worked here before.'
I'm nothing if not confident.
I said 'The bloke in charge out there there has turned your hair grey, it was black in 1973, and the place looks a shambles.' He just smiled and gave me a start date.
The supervisor was an ex-docker who was about 62. He had blagged his way in, his brother-in-law and nephew also worked there.
The first thing I saw him write out was a 'goods-in' slip for 'Engine Mountains'
(not mountings) . I knew then that his days were numbered.
I wound him up with my first wage packet. I said 'That's handy Jack, the boss has paid me for the xmas holiday, and I only started on January 5th. He was fuming, the vein in his forehead was going mental.
He was so thick it was unreal that he was in charge.
He came down from the office about 9 months later, and said to Ginger (who was grey ffs)
'Guess what Ginge, I just found out I'm only 64 next week, not 65.' WAC
Was up at University in Scotland tearing my way through the batting line ups of all the other Scottish University cricket teams!
Thin & Crispy: I also retired for the first time in 1986, in my case after having a £1,000 to £80 West Tip to win the National.
Was sharing a house in Slough with a couple of girls who, like me, were working in an office in Gerrards Cross doing technical translations. I was dating a third girl who was also working there, but who was living with her parents and was extremely unhappy with my domestic arrangements.
So I chucked in the job and used the grand to go racing every day, promising that I'd soon win enough to get a gaff of my own.
I lasted three months, which looking back was an extraordinary achievement considering I had so little behind me and there was still a 4% on-course tax in those days.
It all ended one hot afternoon at Devon & Exeter when I went for a big punt on something in a novices chase. It got beaten by an unraced nag who made all despite being soaked in sweat and taking half a dozen goes before allowing a saddle on its back, called Mr Frisk.
I tried to get it back on a dog called Aboushabun in the last to no avail. I remember overhearing the late Dodger McCartney giving a mournful post mortem on the Aboushabun debacle afterwards, then announcing to some shifty characters that he'd see them at Wincanton the next day. I wouldn't though. It was a long train journey back to Slough and a search for employment, which ended in me renting a truly desperate flat in Merton Park, SW London.
So it was back to office work, this time medical translations and dreaming of retiring again and spending afternoons in the fresh air like Dodger et al.
But that will have to wait until the What Were You Doing in 1989? thread.
Was sharing a house in Slough with a couple of girls who, like me, were working in an office in Gerrards Cross doing technical translations. I was dating a third girl who was also working there, but who was living with her parents and was extremely unhappy with my domestic arrangements.
So I chucked in the job and used the grand to go racing every day, promising that I'd soon win enough to get a gaff of my own.
I lasted three months, which looking back was an extraordinary achievement considering I had so little behind me and there was still a 4% on-course tax in those days.
It all ended one hot afternoon at Devon & Exeter when I went for a big punt on something in a novices chase. It got beaten by an unraced nag who made all despite being soaked in sweat and taking half a dozen goes before allowing a saddle on its back, called Mr Frisk.
I tried to get it back on a dog called Aboushabun in the last to no avail. I remember overhearing the late Dodger McCartney giving a mournful post mortem on the Aboushabun debacle afterwards, then announcing to some shifty characters that he'd see them at Wincanton the next day. I wouldn't though. It was a long train journey back to Slough and a search for employment, which ended in me renting a truly desperate flat in Merton Park, SW London.
So it was back to office work, this time medical translations and dreaming of retiring again and spending afternoons in the fresh air like Dodger et al.
But that will have to wait until the What Were You Doing in 1989? thread.
SlippyBlue 14 Aug 14 20:52
I spent the Summer of '86 in San Antonio, Ibiza doing mad stuff.
i was in san antonio june/july 86
I spent the Summer of '86 in San Antonio, Ibiza doing mad stuff.
i was in san antonio june/july 86
Programming on an ICL 2955 mainframe , getting drunk , seeing a work colleagues wife ,watching footy on the plastic at Boundary Park .....
Left the Police and went to Ireland to breed, school, train and race greyhounds.
Left the Police and went to Ireland to breed, school, train and race greyhounds.
sounds a mad thing to do but interesting
sounds a mad thing to do but interesting
1986 . saw dawn run win the gold cup and dancing brave win the arc . apart from those two days can't remember anything else at all.
playing U14 junior county tennis.
He didn't turn out too bad Mr Frisk did he Screaming! Still the fastest at Aintree I think.
He didn't turn out too bad Mr Frisk did he Screaming! Still the fastest at Aintree I think.
@Emden, not really; I'd had some success on the flapping tracks of the west country (my superiors did not like this aspect of my use of my free time; apparantly I was mixing with criminals
)and property was cheap in Ireland then so I thought I'd give the game a go full time. I was lucky, had some excellent dogs, most exported to the U.K.
)and property was cheap in Ireland then so I thought I'd give the game a go full time. I was lucky, had some excellent dogs, most exported to the U.K.
@Emden, not really; I'd had some success on the flapping tracks of the west country (my superiors did not like this aspect of my use of my free time; apparantly I was mixing with criminalsCrazy)and property was cheap in Ireland then so I thought I'd give the game a go full time. I was lucky, had some excellent dogs, most exported to the U.K.
fair play.
fair play.
I was 17 had just got back from a holiday in Salou, I had been given a full time job after 9 months on a YTS, was prepareing for my first visit to York races. There were some great horses in 86. That year is certainly in the top 10 of my life.
Facts 17 Aug 14 21:53
Having an affair
Did your husband find out?
Having an affair
Did your husband find out?
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