I quit the job today.
Things have been mounting up for a while and I’ve had my eyes open for greener grass for the past few weeks too.
It came to a head last Sunday night. I belled the TM up as usual about 5.30pm to find out what run I was doing (starting at 6pm) and he said to me, “you can have tonight off because I’ve got all the runs covered. Do me the 12pm Deeside run tomorrow please”. Excellent thinks I, and not wasting an opportunity to get hammered I phoned the lads up and had them come round here for a sesh.
Half an hour later the bell goes again and it’s the gaffer. “Hi [gaffer], [TM] rang me a half hour ago and has already told me I’m not needed tonight”.
“No, I need you to do the London run for me”.
“Oh, you’re kidding me? 
I’ve made plans to go out and just finished finalising details of where we’re meeting” (not strictly the truth but plans had already been made).
“Right, you do what you want and carry on with your plans then and I’ll do the run. I’m not going to argue about it”.
“No, no, I’ll cancel the plans, I’ll do it”.
“No, I’m already here, I’ll do it. I’ll speak to you tomorrow”, and put the phone down.
He phoned me up this aft in a raging mood about something else and then started laying in to me about it saying it was all my fault 
so I told him I’d had enough of his [zb], blue-eyed boys and heir-to-the-throne mechanic and told him a few things that made him sit up in shock and that was the end of that.
.
