Mort the Shit Manager: ''Fart Councilling"

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(Edited)


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Source: Image by @katharsisdrill

Mort, the Shit Manager is a spin-off fictional series of short stories based loosely on the thoughts of David Mortenson, the tyrannical Kwiksave store manager who features in my auto-biographical series 'The Horrors of Kwiksave'.

Mort the Shit Manager Complete Chronology


- Mort as a Stock Lad -
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Flat Arse' - (March 1974)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mort's Interview' - (March 1974)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Armchair Club' - (May 1974)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Fresh Cream' - (November 1978)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Demise of Reginald Bulge' - (January 1979)


- Mort as a Manager -
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oxidation' - (July 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Fart Councilling' - (July 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mandy's Curves' - (November 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bribe' - (November 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Agnus' - (December 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bloody Nose' - (July 1980)


- Mort as a Manager with @slobberchops -
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oppression Supreme' - (December 1980)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Heat Machine' - (March 1981)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Day Off' - (April 1981)

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...'July 1979'...

...'WARNING - ADULT CONTENT'...

“I don’t get it.., I was the store manager and now suddenly I am not?”, said Mort angrily.

Mort was flustered beyond belief. After an extended session of Oxidation the realisation of the title 'Trainee Manager' was settling into his head. True management was coming, but had not yet arrived, that.., he had to tell himself repeatedly.

“There needs to be a period of counselling besides training you to hold a pen and board which requires around 85 IQ. I for one am not convinced you are remotely that intelligent.”

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Source

Mort raged inwardly. Mark Murk, the Hawkish Manager with those ridiculous glasses containing jam jar bottoms fresh from the back shop damages section was telling HIM that he was a brainless twat with little intellect?

The counselling Mort had grudgingly agreed to. Several weeks of some overpaid psychiatrist telling him that ‘inhaling methane from your bosses' arse daily is bad for you and quite abnormal’ was not what Mort had in mind but he had been forced to agree or remain a stock lad.

Maybe he would have to write lines like in school before that fact could emanate into his brain?

  • ‘Always fart outside if possible.’
  • ‘Don’t cock your leg when letting one off.’
  • ‘Don’t talk about farting to anyone, EVER.’
  • ‘Try never to fart’
  • ‘If in need, ensure you have spare jocks in case it’s a squelchy one.’
  • ‘Don’t think about farting’
  • ‘Never ever fart’

It went on and on and was all quite ridiculous, humiliating, and preposterous. There was nothing wrong with him, he wanted to manage and be successful.

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Source

To make matters worse, Sharon the bad-toothed supervisor had somehow got wind of Mort's counselling details and was throwing him ever-so-subtle smirks.

How could he ever get any respect from his future staff with this knowledge being already branded and widespread? Next, the checkout operators would know, and then Brent, that new useless incompetent Stock lad that Murk had hired during this transitional phase would be sending him sly sneers.

Mort glowered at Murk with undisguised loathing. It had not been Murk’s’ decision to promote Mort. If that short-arsed bespectacled cunt had been the decision maker, he would still be stock lad, or possibly fired.

The feeling was mutual though Murk had a little more self-control over his opinions.


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Elton Welsby, the feared and ruthless Area Manager had made a decision Mort would never forget.

He was also an unstable, unhinged boss liable to furious outbursts if anyone even slightly disagreed with him.

"Listen Murky boy, we need to give the lad a chance. He's been working in the store for over five years now. That's some dedication and after a full dissection of his troubled past I feel he needs a break”

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Murk loathed the disrespect but sycophantically smiled after a noticeable pause and agreed with Elton.

"Yes Mr. Welsby, but I think he needs a period of training before I can leave"

“Listen to me you short-arsed little toad.., you forget yourself. I am the fucking Area Manager and you do what I say.., do you understand me?”, screamed an enraged Elton, his tone and volume increasing with every word.

“You train him, tell him he’s a Trainee Manager, boost his confidence, and let’s put all this ridiculous farting business behind us?", Elton continued gaining a measure of control back.

"Of course Mr. Welsby, No problem Mr. Welsby", said Murk visibly shaking, his glasses now slightly unhinged.

Murk silently ground his teeth promising to re-direct this anger toward Mort in some form after this irritating meeting. Area Managers deemed themselves gods and NEVER spoke directly to Stock lads. It would be up to him to break the news to Mort.


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Mort assumed incorrectly that the demise of Bulge meant automatic promotion. His narcissism had taken him there, thought Murk with a little satisfaction.

Boost his confidence. What.. was he now a fucking councillor? The paltry salary that Kwiksave Managers’ were paid didn’t include such specialised skills.

Once Welsby left his store to torture the next store manager, Murk would continue to belittle and diminish Mort's confidence, wearing him down.

Oh yes, he would boost his morale no end.


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Mort, the Shit Manager is a Serial Shitposting Fiction Story inspired by Torundel the Shitposter by @katharsisdrill, Ren du Lot, the Shit Lawyer by @vcelier and Nordlute, the Shit Sysadmin by @steevc.

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28 comments
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Another great episode in the telling, just got to love Mort!

!BEER

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Thanks Joan, I'm finding these more enjoyable to write than 'The Horrors' which is mostly fact. Having the freedom to make ridiculous plots up is feeding my warped fiction mind!

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Did anyone ever aspire to be a Kwiksave manager? I can't believe the money was that good. I know some people just enjoy having some power over others. Shit managers are a curse.

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I don't know whether you know, but @grindle was a real Kwiksave Manager and around the same time as I was a Stock Lad. He relates to all this particularly well, but never being a Stock Lad.., can't see the pain I had to endure.

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I know you bear the scars of that. I think all managers should experience life on the bottom rung first.

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The pay was shite, I think going back to the late 70's it was net pay of about £110 pw. for a managers hours of around 55 a week work that out!!!

No wonder on half day wednesday when all and sundry had gone home, (and I wasn't entertaining mary o'dwyer my supervisor on a pallet of sugar [surprisingly warm and comfy!]) I was loading my boot up with the family weekly shop! and the occasional case of red salmon to flog off in the pub. Tie that in with a nice little fiddle on my petrol expenses. And a killer major fiddle with the Country maid breadman I was easily making well double my salary. Fuck em. managers got very little respect from those above them. Don't get mad get even!! @steevc. @slobberchops

But I looked after my stocklads, always sausage butties everyday once the load had been pulled, cooked by me. Share the wealth !!

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(Edited)

I think going back to the late 70's it was net pay of about £110 pw.

It was never more than £50 a week, double my pay.., and I can't remember any rises through to 1985 either.

(and I wasn't entertaining mary o'dwyer my supervisor on a pallet of sugar [surprisingly warm and comfy!])

Hope you changed the name, to save legal litigation!

I was loading my boot up with the family weekly shop! and the occasional case of red salmon to flog off in the pub.

Hilarious, Red Salmon sells well on Sunday Boot Markets. If ur quick, you can offload the lot and leave before the rent man comes (a story I was told by a fellow booter!).

But I looked after my stocklads, always sausage butties everyday once the load had been pulled, cooked by me.

That never happened. I can't remember a single incident any of the many managers being kind to me, or any of the entourage of Stock Lads.

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I looked after my lads, and Mary !!

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Laughs that very first photo in the post, what was that show called again?? Fuck that was proper funny shit!! I'll have to rewatch them 😅😅

Damn the nostalgia feeling is real now

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Laughs that very first photo in the post, what was that show called again??

I have seen that character banded around a lot in Discord, but didn't know where he came from. He does fit Murk's description well, I had a good look at a few 'Murks' out there!

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Trailer park boys!!! I have it!!

Its a bit of a weird series but the movies were pretty darn good, and what made them good is the fact that they were actual people living that life, they legitly just had a camera crew recording their life.. But fuck it was good!!

The guy in the picture has no parents, only a bunch of cats😅😅 but the shit they say is hilarious

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I did look it up yesterday. One day I'll get around to watching it.

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There needs to be a period of counselling besides training you to hold a pen and board which requires around 85 IQ. I for one am not convinced you are remotely that intelligent.

Did they really treat those under them that badly???

This post has been manually curated by the VYB curation project

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Oh man, the power trips and head games that go on in retail management ...

Of course, I worked in a bookstore. So: the pay was worse, but we got to feel cultured.

From my new-hire on-boarding routine: "I know we all have degrees in English. Nobody ends up working retail because they make good life decisions..."

I miss the people I worked with, but never the job!

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Nobody ends up working retail because they make good life decisions..."

Always leave retail to 'somebody else' 😀

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