Have you ever worked with someone who

zzzzz said:
No. Pretty much speaks for itself.
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So basically you're saying that people who do nothing but try and dominate every conversation with their own experiences and deliberately make everyone else's life a misery when they throw their little tantrums and cause a poisonous atmosphere should be met with forgiveness and acceptance? Aye, righto pal. 🙄🤦‍♂️
 
Black cat, mines blacker. Double pneumonia, I had triple pneumonia. We once called a lad PS5 when there was only PS 4. Met them everywhere I've worked.
 
30 years ago I was on a 3 week residential course for work down south and there was a little ginger haired fella - only early-mid 20s - and he fitted your description perfectly. About 5'4" and 7 stone wringing wet, but oh, the guys he'd knocked out! And he was pretty much a millionaire already of course, but was nevertheless going to be the top earner in the company within 2 years. Could drink anyone there underneath the table of their choice. Had a different lass every night too - what a guy!

Of course, entirely predictably, come the last night everyone's hitting the bar and there he was, little Billy 2 pints. By 10 o'clock, he's off his face and sobbing his eyes out that he constantly felt like a failure and how all the ridiculous bragging was all just a front after all. I was shocked, I tells ya...
 
We had one lad who said, while skiing in Austria, that he jumped over a road with cars below him. Then some one said, quite dryly, is that when your Union flag parachute opened. That shut him up for a couple of days.
 
The bloke I mentioned earlier actually had some good stories to tell but you never new if any of it was true. He was so full of himself that he didn't recognise the fact
that none of us liked him and he thought he was the life of our party. We used to pray that he didn't join our table when he came in.
I would've been happy to listen to his stories if he waited until somebody else had finished their story instead of jumping in and taking over
the conversation for so long that the original story that was being told was left unfinished.

Thank god that there were plenty of other workmates at other tables that I could have a drink with or the pool table that I could escape to.
 
I used to drink in the British Legion in Thornaby in the 80's. The company I sat with tended to be older than me. One particular man had seen it all, done it all and been everywhere. His claim to fame was that he was a substitute for Bishop Auckland in the FA Amateur Cup final of 1958 (I may have the year wrong). Seeing as substitutes were not introduced into football until the following decade told me he was telling me a little lie. He'd won medals for valour and was in the SAS, once being captured by terrorists but escaped by killing his guards and stealing a car. I couldn't listen to anymore.
The other men in the group told me he was a Walter Mitty but they just put up with him. He had never been in the forces. he couldn't even drive. And he had never ever played football above primary school team.
 
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