Today

AFTERNOON

Guess what: Winter Clerkship! Yay!

There are only two firms in Adelaide that offer to second and third year students, and I will be working at one of them for three weeks in July. I'm pretty happy.

The one that I'll be with (let's call it Firm T) actually seems like the better firm, in my possibly biased opinion (I didn't even get to the first stage of assessment in the other one *cough*). Well, Firm T had a much more rigourous selection process - before we even saw the face of anyone in the company we had to answer all these questions about our communication style, personal interests, motivation, experience in non-law related fields, etc etc. One of their many application questions was something like, 'what, in your view, sets firm X apart from the others' and I wrote about how their thorough pre-selection questionaire showed what an awesome and detailed job they must do with everything, hahah.

There was then an 'assessment centre' thing which I was nervous about at first, because we were told it would be based around 'business scenario'. Aargh. Turns out the business scenario was not financial (which I feared) but administrative tasks. We had to work out as a group which hypothetical tasks to complete in which order if we were Person Y at a new company, and the action we would take for each one. It was stuff like: call Monica to reassure her of this, email Henry to plan for a presentation, prepare documents for Sally by the end of the day, etc. Plus do an individual writing task picking apart a bad contract.

I got through to the next stage which was a proper interview last Tuesday (with HR and a senior associate) and today I found out that I was one of the four people chosen for the job! I had a smile on my face that I couldn't shake for a while after that.

MORNING

I got to feel like a minda (or, let's say, tourist) this morning when I caught a train to the other side of town. I'm a bus girl, and had actually never been on a train in my own city until this morning. Had I lived in train-serviced suburb I may have been familiar before now with the station's walk-through ticket machines. You know, where you stick your ticket in, then the bars unlock, so you move through and grab your ticket where it pops out the other side? Yep, except apparently here the ticket doesn't do that travel-through-the-machine thing, it just pops in and out the same side. And then falls onto the ground. While you are already through and the gate has re-locked. So then you have to detour back around through the "family" bar-free booth to get your ticket off the ground, because hey, that's a multitrip.

Also: less-than-impressed by the train driver who sporadically mumbled the station we were stopping at. I situated myself near the station map so as to count the stops in between his announcements.

I was visiting a primary school with a deaf education unit, to research their perspective and compare them with another primary school. All went okay at first. I admit that when I asked his role and he mentioned he was an assistant principal, my initial feeling was woah! Big shot! Since when am I the kind of person to interview assistant principals and call them by their first name?

Unlike my interview with the first primary school, this man gave much more of a "linguistics lecturer" than "primary school teacher" vibe, going on about systemic functional grammar and metalanguage and so forth. We were almost done when something went astray. He asked me about the other primary school and I responded with probably more information than I should have (to do with an implied criticism of his centre) and I knew right after I said it that I shouldn't have. He seemed uncomfortable and annoyed, though whether at me or them I'm not sure, and wrapped it up curtly after that. Gah. From a confidentiality perspective it was a bad move, and probably tactless too.

Anyway, I sent him an email of apology that I began compose straight away on my (bus) ride back to town, and he responded kindly. All is all well, I hope. Eek.

LUNCH

I just want to mention the turning point between the bad-vibe morning and the good-news afternoon. I popped into the hostel to heat up some lunch, and had a nice chat with W and B. My visit also coincided with H's. H is a Chinese nurse who was a former cleaner/long term guest. W and I had put aside some mail for her recently, and she was excited to dicover that. H has, and I say this with affection, the most stereotypically squinty Chinese manner. She's around 40 years old and often wears a broad-brimmed hat with a drawstring underneath. When W pulled out a bundle of letters, she just about wet herself with excitement. "Ohhh, sank you W-! Sank you, sank you, sank you so mach!" She bobbled her head with each exclamation. "Ohh! Ohh!"

W started telling her about his grandson, who is only a toddler but big and tall for his age. H was loving it. "Ohh! I sink he is strong boy! He grow up vey big! Ohh!"

Overcome with excitement at seeing us again and retrieving her letters, H clutched my arm. "Wait here!" She ordered, and came back a few minutes later with a giftbag of chocolates for each of us. "You not here when I left! Only A- here! I no see you when I left!" Brightened my morning, H did.

Unequal weighting

Too much to say. Do I start with the bliz blaz, the Big, the sad?

BLIZ BLAZ

- Have been out to dinner 3 out of the last 4 evenings.
Friday: with mum's family. 'Cafe Bravo'. My cousin is pregnant with #3, woo! Not so mundane!
Sunday: with DW. The evening felt like a bonus, in that I woke up from a nap in what I thought was the morning, only to discover it was still 'last night'. 'Thai on Parade'.
Monday: with dad's sisters and that side of the family. 'Chopstix'. Turns out my aunt has not only met Oliver Sacks, but she interpreted a speech of his to a deaf audience, and has a whole heap of books about literacy in deaf children and stuff! Awesome resource for my linguistics research right here!

- On the topic of uni, it appears I've been accepted into the Arts Internship Program next semester, as I got an email suggesting that I should 'liase' with this woman after the break about a suitable placement. Yay =)

- Spent a somewhat bizarre evening at the hostel with M, drinking on the balcony in between my night and morning shift. He stayed over, sharing my room, and at some point in the night I *thought* he was being funny and trying to steal my bed (I had the double). Kicked him out, perhaps twice, half-asleep and unamused. Except, in the morning it appeared that that never happened, and either I was dreaming or he was bed-stealing in his sleep. So yeah. Fun times!

- Despite my late night at the hostel and the fact that I was woken up far too early by cricket and footy club guys returning from town, my 6 am trouble-shooting skills weren't bad. The white sheet on the stairs that was smeared with an ominous shade of brown was dumped in the washing machine with the kitchen rags and a large extra cup of detergent. The screeching lift alarm was fixed through skilful jabbing of the broken emergency button. The door to the disaster-zone bathroom was closed and marked with a closed sign. Ok, I didn't say I 'fixed' everything, but the people who I saved from venturing into that bathroom will never know what I did for them. Try not to have more alcohol than your digestive system can handle, folks.

- My soft touch with the disabled lift came in handy later in the day too. Wayne was decked out in a rain coat and wide brimmed hat and was running around with trolley-loads full of crates of bottles for recycling (that run-on sentence was totally a literary technique so you could appreciate the atmosphere). He called me from the bottom of the stairs where he was jabbing unsuccessfully at the once-again whining lift. "See if you can fix it! This lady's tried to operate it herself!"
I go down there and this blonde dazed-looking woman is standing there, all like "oh! sorry..." She has these two MASSIVE suitcases. She starts blathering about how she thought she could just use the lift, and as Wayne is heaving her suitcases onto the platorm (which I have now fixed and assembled for use, with the KEY that you need) she mentions that her boyfriend got "dragged off by the police" and that's why she's been "kicked out of the hotel room" and hence why she has so much luggage. "I don't know much about backpacker places," she says, still kind of vaguely. I then suddenly notice that she is seriously pregnant. "I'm having the baby in a week," she says, rubbing her belly. "Its a shame cos he'll probably still be in jail, my boyfriend, you know. Has to be in at least a week or something."
I nod and do 'oh? mmm.' noises as I slowly take the lift up stairs. Two guys come in and grin at me. "Can we ride on that?"
"Only if you want to go at this speed!" I say.
The woman tags along behind me. "You know, they really dragged him off. Was a bit scary, like. I hope the baby doesn't come early. I couldn't have it while I'm here. Yeah, hope he doesn't come early."
Me too, love!

THE BIG

It's almost embarrassing to read back how in every entry I've got a new plan for travel/life. But this one, this new thing is kind of the Real Deal, the Tell Everyone, the Apply-Before-Wednesday thing.
University exchange, to Germany.
I know. It had always been an option before. A few people had asked me if I'd thought about it, and I'd always said, oh well I've done something similar before. It's a lot of money. If I'm going to go overseas, I'd prefer to do more solid *travel*.
But then... I started to remember how it felt to be swimming in language. To be dissolved in it. How it felt to not understand, until the world slowly took shape in words and phrases around me. I remembered how big that high school exchange felt, and felt suddenly nostalgic for the intensity of feeling that was involved. Here I'd been with my world maps, lazily allocating 3 months of a year here, 6 months there. Those TWO MONTHS were pretty huge to me.
And then... I started browsing the Adelaide Abroad web pages, and researching partner institutions. I went to an information session. And there, I got: "You want to go to Germany? Awesome! The Baden-Wuerttemberg government might just give you a stack of money they call a 'scholarship' for no reason! But, catch is, you have to apply now! Second catch is, you might not find out that you get it until you're already on exchange! So, you wanna do it?"

I think I do. I'm sure I do. I wanna do it.

THE SAD

Well... there's no good way to say this. She was the mum of the girls that my sister and I grew up with, the girls who were the same age as us and epitomised everything primary school. The mum that carpooled for netball matches and helped E and I with our compering notes for The Festival of Music. The one who'd sit for a cup of coffee in our kitchen after dropping one of us home, who'd refer politely to using 'the facilities' before she left. The one who'd watch 'her boys' in a Crows match, who'd feed us Dunk-a-Roos after school, who once gave 13-year-old E and I a warning about boys and was a little taken aback when I chirped some comment about 'remembering to keep your knickers on!'

Back then, we were lucky, we were wholesome and whole, we didn't comprehend that it could be otherwise. E and I and our other mate were once the 'biggies', trotting together after school to the kindy where we'd pick up our sisters, the 'littlies.' She was one of the mums who made up the picture. She was one of our kind. She died, and her two girls are now girls whose mum has died. While our mum, our lovely healthy wonderful mum, just celebrated her birthday. It could have been us. I don't see E regularly anymore, though our sisters, those 'littlies', are still good buddies, in their last year of high school at different schools. I just wish those girls and their dad well on the most basic level. I can't believe their mum, their mum who was once very solidly alive and well, isn't here anymore. I can't imagine how they feel.

At this point in time...

The pace of life changes at this time of year. At first your body drag with the effort, unused to the speed. Before you know it you're buzzing and recharged. Then, just as quickly, overwhelmed.



I thought I'd give a brief wrap up of the State of Stuff.



WORK



Mad March. The month that swings me wildly between feelings of love and exasperation for my job. The best feeling is that of a hostel that's booked to the brim full of guests, who are all out enjoying themselves... elsewhere. Slightly less enjoyable: relentless demands of guests when I just want to close and get out of there, vomit stains on the wall and carpet when I walk in the next morning, personality clashes in too-full dorms, drunken Irish guys who insist on shouting the words along to 'Little Lion Man' at 6:30 am, fielding complaints about why the night staff didn't answer the phone, teetering on the wrong side of the how-full-is-full tightrope. Human error becomes critical. Got a voucher for tonight that we booked for Friday next week instead? Told us yesterday that you wanted to extend your accommodation, yet somehow nobody got around to making a note on the system? Oops! How do you feel about sleeping on the street tonight?

And things can only get more exciting: it's not even Clipsal time yet!

However, its invigorating in a way too, especially when you get it right. Carrying the baby upstairs for the stressed-out mum as she wrangles the four-year-old and his scooter. Hearing someone who'd presented at the counter with bed bug bites gratefully thanking you for your help after you breezily move guests from the room, wash all the linen and do the rest of her laundry for free, lend her the heavy-duty bug spray for her bag and call the pest control services. Realising that something like that would have once caused you stress, but now you take it in stride. Having someone say to you, after a long morning dealing with guests who were unhappy about the noise last night, interpersed with nagging from the guys whose iPod you confiscated to get rid of the noise (can't win!), "I just want to thank whoever it was that finally got those guys to shut up!" and being able to have a laugh with someone about it. Helping exceptionally friendly and appreciative Canadian guys with bookings, tours and directions around the city. Passing on the complaint about 'dripping mouldy food' to Victor - When he began to go off his nut about how it was just the fridge leaking, I successfully avoided hearing him rant by changing the tack to, "I know Wayne doesn't want to fix the leaks, but maybe you could move your bag to the bottom shelf - then nobody can blame you! Just trying to look out for you!" He sort of chuckled then, and was like "Ah, I understand. Complaint number fifty eh! I'm keeping a list!"

For all Victor's "quirks", I'm actually quite fond of him these days. It'll be a bit sad when we do finally seek the help of the Catholic church to find him more appropriate accommodation. Perhaps because Victor's such a pain when he's in a cranky mood, I find him strangely enjoyable when he's in a good mood. Lurking at the corners, he sees everything that goes on at the front desk, and is the only guest who I can tell really *sympathises* with the staff sometimes. An eyeroll at a tedious guest here, a request followed by a generous "-when you not busy," there.

"You here tomorrow?" he often asks, brusquely, peering through his lens-less glasses. If I say yes or no he responds with a nod or a sympathetic smile as required. Then he swings his bag over his shoulder and lifts one arm in goodbye. "See you next time!" He hobbles off to wherever it is that he goes, his ankles poking out at the bottom of never-washed jeans as he disappears down the stairs.

Last weekend was WOMAD, which stereotypically attracts the best kind of guest: those who are friendly, laid-back and somehow 'clean', jokes about dirty hippies aside. Clean in a way that old men, bogans and drunks aren't. Although there are still a few of those around.

Speaking of old men: Some well-dressed, grey haired gentleman booked into rm 23 before I started my afternoon shift yesterday. No worries. A little later, in my peripheral vision I see this person near the entrance to reception with unnaturally wide, drawn-on pink lips, broad shoulders, a tight dress and garish eye-make-up. Ok, someone who looks like a drag queen. Being Fringe time, there are a lot of interesting characters around, and because I am a dork I'm thinking "don't stare!" and preparing myself to not do a double-take when I see this person front-on (this is all within a split second). All guests are welcome, right? So I chirp, "Hello!" and give the drag queen a big welcoming smile. She/he sort of gives a faint eye-brow raise of recognition and scurries past reception. Looks like she's following - oh, looks like she's following the old man. Ah. Well. Isn't it nice when you find two unlikely friends like that.


Sometime later the man presents his room key to reception. Oh, he's checking out! He doesn't need the room for the night after all. Isn't it nice when something else just comes up! Meanwhile, his "friend" slips out the door. I ask him to return his linen, as is standard procedure. He puts up a fuss. "It's all there!" he says, meaning its all in the room. Yes, well if I'm going to have to touch those sheets I'm not bloody well making a trip upstairs to get them. You can bring your own semen-encrusted sheets down here, boy. Of course I don't say this. "Oh, that's strange that it wasn't mentioned when you checked in!" I say cheerfully, with an air of polite disbelief. "You actually need to return them to get your deposit back!" He grumbles some more then goes to get them. I guess when you're in a position to choose a backpacker's hostel as your den of hooker love, the lure of $10 is strong.


UNI


Looking like a good semester. Constitutional law, Lingustics (Language Learning), German and English (Modernisms). Lots of work but its all kind of different. I'm kind of planning to finish my Arts degree at the end of this year (well, by the end of summer school) so that if I want to, say, teach English in Japan then I meet the contract requirements.


LIFE

What else? H and S are back from India. H might be getting a job at the hostel which would be fun I think! I had a good chat with DW the other day about going overseas - I hadn't wanted to bring it up in case it caused problems before it had to, but I'm glad I did. He basically shot down a couple of my ideas (care work, outdoor kids' camps) and although I don't have to listen to his advice, I do value his opinion... and it also kind of helped me, because I wanted to make some decisions rather than try to 'do it all'. He was quite keen on the idea of teaching in Japan (i to i do contracts from anywhere between 2 and 12 months) and was even like, "I'll come visit you if you do that." Naw.

Guests

Victor: "When you have time, I need -" *holds out empty bowl of handwash soap*
Victor: "Tell me. How many are we?"
Victor: "Tell me. When he leaving?"
Victor: "Tell me. What is your rule on bed light. He always complain when I put it on, even though I have cover over it!"
Victor: "Tell me. Why we don't have camera in the room?"
Victor: *requires rubber band*
Victor: *requires plastic coin bag*
Victor: *requires torch batteries*

Victor: **long, bitter tale of woe about arguments over the bed light**
Me: (because I am trying to distance myself from V's many problems, rather than reinforce the idea that I am the one he can 'vent' to) "Well, that sounds annoying. But, that's for you two to work out. Part of living in a dorm room I guess."
Victor: "But mine is very dim! He wants me to use always my flashlight, eh? And when he wants to get up, he turns the big light on! Disturb everyone! Tell me, what is he allowed to do?"
Me: "I can't really make him do anything, especially not in the middle of the night. Sure that sucks. But, that's for you two to work out. Part of living in a dorm room I guess."

Victor: **long, bitter complaint about how we don't have adequate staff at nighttime**
Me: Well, we do have staff in the building. For emergencies. I guess it's up to them what they consider an emergency.
Victor: We used to have 24 hour reception! Under the old system! **long, bitter tale of woe about arguments over the bed light**
Me: If the night staff don't consider that an emergency, there's not really much we can do.

This goes on for a while.
Victor: So you're saying there's nothing you can do.
Me: *sad nod*

Rade: "PEN"
Me: *hands over pen*
Rade: "NO YOU WRITE"
Me: "What do you want me to write?"
Rade: "HUGGGHHERRRMARR" (something unintelligible starting with 'H', with an 'R' in it somewhere.)
Me: "How do you spell that?"
Rade: "I DON'T KNOW! DAT'S WHY YOU WRITE!"

Notes on the system:
Plz don't extend Rade. We kicked him out of Shakespeare.
Rade is up to his old tricks - sleeping on couch, hiding remote. Guests are sick of watching old movies all day!
PLZ DON'T EXTEND RADE. Guests have accused him of stealing their food.
Rade will pay on Thurs for 4 more nights. ref Wayne.

Nice guy: Rade's acting a bit weird.
Amit: Rade's fucking nuts.
NG: He keeps opening and closing the fridge. I think he's looking for something to eat. Maybe you should remind him that he can have some free rice.

This, I do. Rade is still in the kitchen, staring into the fridge. He has watery blue eyes, and has the demeanor of someone who has just fallen out of a spaceship into a foreign land and is both bewildered and unimpressed at what he sees here.
Me (kindly): Are you looking for something?
Rade: MY MEAL.
I remind him about the rice. The bewildered, unimpressed expression intensifies.
One of the Korean girls pipes up. "He looking for something," she tells me. "Someone take his food."
It transpires that he is looking for a yellow carton of milk, which looks identical to one already in the fridge, but is not that one. He has no intention to stop looking, and open and closes the fridge door a few more times.

Sometime later, I am sitting at the desk and Rade comes up to the counter. "I find my milk," he tells me, glaring. "One moment, it was not there, then I go away and it APPEAR again."
He stares at me for a moment. "Strange, ah?"
I say something about how he should just enjoy the fact that he has it now. "VERY STRANGE. Someone take it. Nothing safe here."

A few minutes after that, Brian comes to the desk and say that people have noticed Rade taking stuff that isn't his. "Some salt here, some bread here."
I roll my eyes and wonder if, when Rade "found" his "milk", he really means he "stole" somebody else's "meal".

When Rade's stay is finally up, I get him to check out with minimal hassle - just one short outburst.
"Can I stay one more night, and pay tomorrow?"
I tell him no, we are 'filling up'.
"FILLING UP AH? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU TALKING ABOUT'
Smile and shrug!

Eventually he leaves, dressed in his best with a suit jacket and hat. He says, "Thankyou for the hospitality. You, but nobody else!"

Next time I am on shift, there is a note on the system:
Rade will stay 5 more days referring to Wayne. Then checking out for good.

Sigh. We'll see. Until then, more amusement!

Gyms, Work

I'm officially a gym member. Benefitness - the cheapest of the lot. I visited Fitness First, and they sat me down for something like an interview:

'These are the 4 proven reasons why people join gyms. Which one would you say you were? No, it has to be just one out of the four. I'll give you a moment to think about it. Ok, 'health'? Could you expand on that?'

'So you used to play netball. Now how happy with your level of fitness were you when you played netball? Would you say your goal is to get back to that? Or would you like to exceed that level? Ok, what timeframe are you looking at to Meet Your Goal?'

Fitness First did have awesome facilities, including electronic lockers, tiny fans on each treadmill and a huge group fitness room. Benefitness is more like, 'Eh. We don't have lockers as such, just dump your bag at the back of the class.' And let me tell you, there was no interview or even real orientation scenario. But, for $8.95/week, who's complaining? I have to pay a once-off extra to have a session where someone goes through all the machines with me and gives me a personal plan or something, but they did waive the joining fee and I figure its worth it anyway. So far I've mainly just been going to classes.

For the record: Fitness First was $22.95/week, $100 joining fee (which I probably could have got for $9, though) and a $70 'admin' fee.

Fernwood would have been my other choice - I've been there a fair few times as a trial member and it's a nice place - big tv screen in the cardio room, refrigerated work-out towels, complimentary toiletries, free breakfast, good aircon. It's also a good balance between 'whatever, join if you want' Benefitness and 'hey there KHERE! It's Evan calling from Fitness First! How's it going mate? Have you given any more thought to our membership offer?' Fitness First. But even the student discount membership at Fernwood (with no joining fee) would have been $19.80/week. Can I justify an extra $566/year for MusicMax and the comforting knowledge that, if I ever showered at the gym, I would have access to a hairdryer? Unfortunately I can't. Maybe when I'm one of those rich career women who has a different Portman's outfit for every day.

I've only done two classes at Benefitness so far - Circuit and Step. Big thumbs up for circuit. The first time was the worst, mainly because the instructor came off as kind of a bitch. She knew I had never done the class before. Without saying a word to me or anyone else though, she charged into the room with her g-string under tights and was all like 'Rawr! Let's get MOVING!', launching into aerobics moves straight away. The class is basically aerobics or whatever, but with short frequent intervals using the machines around the edge of the room. Well, that's what I came to understand after everyone latched themselves to machines, no thanks to her explanation. It reminded me a bit of playing 'musical chairs' as a kid - ladidah, da da, quickdive for that machine that you know how to use!

Today I did the class again with a different instructor who I found much more personable. The stuff we did in the non-aerobics part of the class was a fair bit different to the first time, actually - I wonder if they change it up a lot, or if it just depends on the instructor. We did push-ups and tricep dips today, and hello my chicken wings may be feeling that tomorrow.

As for the other class - Step. Well. Let's just say it inspired me to look up the 'Nine Types of Intelligence'. Hey, step-class members, you'll just have to believe me when I say that I'm quite competent at using my Linguistic, Inter-personal, Intra-Personal, Logical-Mathematical and even Naturalist, Existential and Musical intelligences! What's that? All I need for a step class are Kinesthetic and Spatial intelligences? Huh. About that. When God was handing out coordination I guess I thought he was giving out, er, mudcake. And asked for a small serve. Or whatever.

(Shut up. I totally could have proven my mad linguistic punning skillz there if I had wanted to.)

In other news, there's a brewing bitch-storm at work. One girl got fired and now everyones clawing for her shifts. Well that's one facet of it. Also relevant: the new award which means we have to get paid more next year, which means the business will have to completely redesign itself to manage the burden of wages. Also: the possibility of my cluey workmate 'A' leasing the business and the things he will change, namely the mindset of 'these are my shifts so I can sit on my ass and be rude to customers and not worry about losing hours'. Also: customer complaints about a certain staff member. Also: resentment at 'A' for wanting an equal share of hours now (he was on less before), instead of dividing the new shifts evenly among all staff members, good and bad. Also: is the manager playing a big lateral game of chess and picking off staff one by one so he doesn't have to fire people come the new year? Also: I'm technically owed money due to some weird legal thing - the collective agreement we worked under for 2 years was found void, so we say everyone was retrospectively paid under their previous agreements, except I didn't work there long enough to have a previous agreement. So I should have been paid under some ancient award for 'hostels' that housed people fresh out of jail. Which meant that I should have been paid penalties. Or something.

Got that? Work is full of excitement at the moment. And that's not even counting the guest who reckons he's in the mafia.

Anyway, I'd better get some sleep so I can handle that funhouse. Psst, don't tell anyone, but I've found a 'learn the moves' step video. If New Zealander Mark Nu'u can teach me the basics, I may be back in that class soon, improving my futness.

--khere is a nonsensical translation.

You say neurotic, I say erotic

It's official: Father Christmas is in town. He may be dehydrated and dripping with sweat inside his suit, but he's here!

It was pageant day today, and the hostel balcony was the place to be. Exclusive view, Wayne's shade contraption rigged up out of old sheets, cigarette butts swept away, and "rooly clever" disabled lift access. It was a fun atmosphere at work, although the collide of backpackers and kiddies was a bit exhausting.

I slept there last night, with DW giving me a ride into town. We, uh, well, let's just say there was more fun in the rm 6 'storage room' than there's been in a while!

Town tonight - this metaphorical hair is coming down, because exams are over yeooww!

I feel so glad when I hear people talking about assignments and exams they still have, and remember I can dismiss all those thoughts. Selfish but nice! I had another strangely freeing moment when some guy behind me on a bus was talking on the phone in a real serious sooky voice about his break-up. "I'm not saying she's defective, I'm just saying she needs to be better at prioritising." I decided I didn't want to be listening, realised that I had no obligation to, and put my ipod earphones in. The wonderful benefits of modern society!

Get scared much? You should probably stay away from Paranormal Activity. Actually it was awesome, but I'm not usually affected much by scary movies and this one I did find creepy. I got free tickets and went with DW, a lovely friend who I will entitle "L", and his pretty housemate "H". (damnit! I know too many 'H's!). It wasn't as jumpy-scary as I thought it would be, but a lot oogier. DW had a high opinion of it too, which I was glad about.

Also: Dog Boy, by Eva Hornung. Eegh. Read it. Dooo it *shakes*

Enough. Time for this dirty girl to shower.

--khere is a chalk-drawing melting on the road.

friday-saturday-doorcodes-and-vodka

Today feels like such a waste. I hate the vague hungovery tiredness that saps all concentration. Or maybe I just hate the fact of my unfinished uni work *sigh*.

Last night was good though. Actually, the actual town part (German pub crawl) was a bit average, but things livened up once everyone was back in room 29. *winks*. While I could have ignored even the most 'suss' bed noises, the whispered commentary coming from my friend down on the double bed was a little harder to block out. Amusingly, it was the other friend on the bottom bunk who eventually mumbled, "Guys, do you mind?" - and she hadn't even tuned into what was being said. Hee hee. I left H and her battered boy (he had to get stitches in his head last night!) in town this morning, and last I heard they were at the movies today. For H's sake I really hope everything keeps going well! Big grins and fingers crossed!

Other noteworthy parts of the evening included:

H arriving at my house dressed for town, with not a single item for the overnight/morning at the hostel. I suggested she might be a little uncomfortable with no toothbrush, change of clothes or shoes other than heels to wear in the morning, and she agreed and we went back to hers to pack a bag. Lovely. Then? Discovered that she'd brought the wrong bag on the bus with her, so instead of sensible toiletries she had her sister's ugg boots and a scarf. Woohoo!

Friend J being there - she and H had a falling-out, I guess you'd call it, in year 12, and last night was really the first time that they hung out properly since then. Happy feelings when H and I were stripping linen off a bed this morning and H was like "I missed her and I didn't even realise."

Meeting new people, friends-of-friends - 2 stand out in my memory. One was this guy who got more annoying by the second. He went to the USA to work as a camp counsellor for 3 months and he brings it up in every conversation, which is fine, whatever, but he had a very grating attitude about travel. You didn't meet anybody in America who was at all decent? That sucks I guess... but... you can't even entertain the thought that some Americans might not fit your stereotype? You've concluded more than one discussion with: "JUST BECAUSE WE SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE, DOESN'T MEAN WE'RE THE SAME COUNTRY." Profound, especially with that long-suffering 'seen it all' air that you give it, but it might have had more effect if it related to what we were talking about at all. For someone who loves travelling and experiencing different cultures soooo much, you seem strangely keen to dismiss them. And that orgasmic 'ughhhhhhhhh' you do when talking about Europe is kind of unattractive.

The second was guy who was fun to chat to and cute in a goofy gangly way, who started tagging along with our group. Someone said to me, "I think the only reason he's hanging out with us is because of you," and seconds later, said guy was like "PHOTO TIME!" and posed with a wet kiss on my cheek. Uh, good timing! But, a little too much wetness there buddy! Nice to meet you!

Being another football-group weekend, we had all this extra security which made it kind of annoying to have friends stay at the hostel. Friday morning I'd stood on the couch for extra height and warned the footballers about how there'd be a security guard at the door, so they couldn't bring back any 'friends' they might meet on the town (Wayne piped up with jokes about friends in skirts. Oh Wayne.) Well, guess who almost got turned away for not having a key card: old battered head boy! Guess who had to be summonsed by the security guard to verify whether BHB could enter the hostel: Wayne! Apparently Wayne was all grumpy about my role in the matter, which is surely fair enough, but frankly there's a big neon fuck you hostel sign in my head at the moment and if confronted by Wayne, I may have to start mentioning a few of the matters that I find unsatisfactory, too. I'll spare you a rant about the irritating qualities of some people and incompetence of others at the moment, but, yeah. This weekend I've had a real love-hate relationship with the hostel, more emphasis than usual on the hate. I was glad when Brian didn't accept any money from my friends this morning, quietly pointing out that 'other people' let their friends stay over for free quite a lot. Brian's a keeper.

It's now an acceptable going-to-bed time and I can put the dreary waste of a day to a finish. Although I'm sure I was more sleepy at 2pm, when I could have actually been productive. Man, uni work... *buries head*. I'm so good at making schedules for myself. I can plot a timeline for study like nobody's business. It's just when it comes sticking to these schedules that I struggle. When you're 5 hours or 2 days 'behind' a self-imposed schedule though, what do you do? I know: make a new one, with less work involved! It's a great exam revision technique, worked for PPL last semester! Wait: no it didn't.

--khere is chocolate for breakfast and bare feet in the halls.

a fish-flavoured surprise

This weekend's footy groups were a little better than last. Well, I still have tomorrow morning to cope with, but hopefully they'll check out reasonably early or be so knackered that they can't be much trouble (I can hope). Live goldfish were swallowed, and the one English guy on the team (moved to Bendigo from Manchester) got incredibly soppy-drunk at me, but that's all the damage to date.

I guess the effect that alcohol has on a person has a cultural, or at least personality, component, but good lord, that English guy (whose name I don't even remember, therefore can't hide) reminded me so much of this freaking guy when he got drunk, a completely different specimen to the rowdy Aussie boys. He was actually a decent guy, and had made me think earlier in the day about the difference between a nice guy getting drunk and a person who was already a dickhead getting drunk. He complimented me for how I handled the group, and came by the desk a few times to tell me that he thought I was pretty and so forth. When all the other guys ended up going out, he stayed behind because he was so tired and couldn't hack their company (biggest mark of honour among footy groups, apart from swallowing fish and crapping unconventional places, it seems: not sleeping the entire weekend.) But then. BUT THEN. As his voice got more and more mumbly and slurred, he just turned into.... mush! He proposed that I join him in his room for a bit of fun, and when I declined, he got all mopey and philosophical about it. I didn't want to hook up with a drunk guy in a hostel room while I was 1. on shift and 2. in a relationship? Clearly, this was a deep insight into how I was a conformist who secretly wanted to break free!

"It's like, shho hard, innit. So hard. I can see you're like, how do I shhhay thiss, wiv'out offending you, you're like, you feel like you have to conform to what people think of you, you like to have everyfing planned... don't you just want to go nuts, eh? Lose control? I think you just need to give up control for once, just do someving a bit crazy, yeah but it's so hard innit... I can see in your eyes you wanna do it wiv me but you just feel you can't, it's so hard, so hard for us, innit... you got such beautiful eyes, you're shhho beautiful, I just wanna give you a bit of a cuddle and a kiss eh, why don't you come into my room..."

He would kind of drift off mumbling for long stretches of time, and I couldn't really understand what he was saying. There was one morose tangent that I caught when he was slumped on the other side of the counter about how he was just one more drunk guy for me, I must have heard things like this before and just let it wash over me, I'd put up with it at work and then just go home and laugh it off and never seriously think about it. Which: well, he wasn't wrong. And how could he distinguish himself, how could he let me know that we could be something really special, that he wasn't just another drunk guy? Answer: he couldn't?

Then I started feeling a bit bad, because I had enjoyed his company earlier in the day, I could believe that, sure, there would be more to him when he wasn't drunk. But: I had known him for one day. That one day, he was smashed. What could he expect? He was begging me to tell him what I thought of him, and I said I guessed he was a nice guy, and he was like wahhh is that all. I reminded him (not for the first time) that I didn't really know him and that he could be a totally excellent guy for all I knew. "Oh you're so honest, that's what I love about you. You're just such an honest girl. It's just so hard for our situation, innit, so hard for me sitting here at this bar wiv you just thinking that I'm some drunk lad like all the others, but at least you're honest eh, so honest."

Anyway, just like it was in reality, recounting this has gone from amusing to tiresome. The last I saw of him was after I came into reception to see him leaning over the counter, lips pursed. "Just give us a kiss, eh?" he asked, and I have no idea why he thought the answer would be any different than it was to any of his previous suggestions. Then, he kind of wouldn't shut up: "Come on, why not? Just a little kiss, eh? Just gi'us a kiss!" he whined. I sort of snapped at him that he was crossing the line and needed to tone it down. Then he stumbled off (hopefully to sleep) and we shall see tomorrow whether his devotion can last two days.

Anyway. So that we don't have an entire entry about that guy... I'm also:

- Loving Songs for Silverman, the Ben Folds CD I bought the other day. Actually cried at that Gracie song, much to DW's disgust when he learnt that it wasn't even 'that time'.

- 'Dog-sitting' for my aunties over the weekend, for their naughty brown short-haired pointer who's all like 'rrowwr. love me.'

- Relieved that my research assignment is due one week later than I originally thought it was. That means I was extra-virtuous spending those holiday afternoons at uni. I've probably negated whatever effect that had by proceeding to ignore it as soon as I found out the 'real' due date, but... I'll get back into it tomorrow.

- Really into cereal at the moment. Did you know you can eat it any time of day, not just for breakfast? Yeah, I knew it too, but I didn't really know it in an intimate sense until recently.

- Hoping that nobody enters my aunts' house before I do and sees the dim bedroom with messy sexed-in bed. They shouldn't, but... well, they better not.

- Happy that there are multiple episodes of Seinfeld screening on the new channel 'Go' each day. What can I say, I'm easily pleased.

--khere is always the first one to leave the shower.

The Boys and Girls Are Not Alone

My frugality streak was broken over the last few days - but, now I have new and super underwear*, a slightly more groomed appearance, some nice summery tops and four (4!) new CDs. I never buy CDs, except, I guess, when I do. I feel that I am special and entitled to illegal free downloads, but apparently my computer firewall doesn't agree. Hence: Ben Folds, The Clash, Sarah Blasko and The Flaming Lips, in real-CD form.

*TMI: Not a big G-string fan. They seem only good for dressing sexy, and who feels sexy when they have an unhygienic strip of material wedged between their ass cheeks? Not me, obviously. But these 'lacy boylegs' are another story. Just so you know.

Between Aldinga, Goolwa and nights spent with DW, this is one of the first evenings I've spent in my own house for a while. Aldinga was good as always - there's a lovely carefree feeling that emanates from the dusty almost-finished shack, and reminds me why it's worth driving down to the coast even if I can only spend one night there. We played drinking games and Wii sports and something called 'Articulate' which my partner and I rocked at. Apparently she had a massive tanty the second night when she couldn't be in a team with her boyfriend, so... kinda glad I missed that. My other good friend has an aunt and uncle who designed and built a fancy place in Goolwa, so over the weekend we spent two nights there as well. Yay for friends with beach houses!

DW has kind of moved out of home for six weeks while house sitting for his Opa, and has said he's not sure how he'll adjust to moving back in with his parents. He's starting to look at buying property which is kind of exciting. If he bought a house, he'd probably have me and one of his friends move in... money matters aside, I'd be quite keen to do that. Even though it seems like the benefits of moving out with him would be somewhat negated by having one of his mates living there too, it seems somehow a better move to do that than to move somewhere just the two of us... a smaller step, maybe? I wonder whether it would generally be better to be part of a couple living with another person, or be the person living with the couple... Anyway, nothing's a reality yet. And let's not delve too far into the hypotheticals - my teaching-overseas mental adventure combined with sugar-pill week left me feeling quite strange and disconnected a few weeks ago. Perhaps appropriately, I've started reading 'The Power of Now'... that whole spiritual deal isn't usually my thing, but I figured I'd give it a chance.

Bah, uni. I've decided to try to stop "multi-tasking", a.k.a. clicking onto facebook every time I get bored or stuck with uni work. Study time will be for study. Fun time will be for fun, not for procrastination-marred-with-guilt. *Nods*. *Sighs*. Gah, I wanted to get so much done in the holidays, and they're ALMOST OVER! Only one more free (as in: assignment) day before I have work, then I'll have Sunday free, and that's it. True, I have had a real break with the beach and all, but it's depressing that that should cost me, when this is supposed to be a semester break after all. Never mind.

Oh, and as for work, let me note for future reference: FOOTY GROUPS ARE DISGUSTING. As if general rowdiness and body odour and slurred leery remarks and spilled drinks and off-set fire alarms aren't enough, they have to go and use the whole world as their personal toilet. Pissing on the roof and off the balcony onto the street, crapping on the bathroom floor and in the urinal and on the balcony - what the fuck is wrong with these people? Ugh! I'm really starting to question my manager's sanity when he cheerfully rattles off a business comparison between our hostel and our former 'sister' hostel - we make the same amount of money putting up the price for louts over three nights as they do for having a cheap long-term weekly rate! Go us! Really? The difference is we have to deal with all that shit on the weekends, no pun intended, pay for a security guard and extra night-watch staff, and probably deter other guests away from our premises, then are dead quiet for the next three or four days and pay for someone to take extended smoke breaks, browse the net or sit on the couch watching TV with the guests. While they, I assume, have fairly steady days and rooms full of international students who presumably don't smash things and vomit and evacuate their bowels on the balcony and compel the police to visit following public complaints. So, yeah dude, you tell me who has the better business plan there.

(Although, I guess I can't lie, I did thoroughly enjoy hearing of the phone exchange between my Chinese co-worker and manager:

CC: There's a shit on the balcony!

M: A what?

CC: A shiit!

M: I didn't see any linen out there?

CC: No! No linen, a shiiiit!

M: Huh? Put it back on the shelf, then!

CC: A shit! Somebody squat and make a shit!

Bahah.

- khere will not be stripping for your entertainment.

Sprouting Instructions Enclosed

There are good group vibes at the moment. Drifting threads of friendship and love and aquaintance suddenly all got tangled up and formed a nice little ring. As in: H is now going out with S, whose a friend of C, and C was a friend of mine whose now quite close to H as well, and S and C have a cool mate called L, who gets along really well with everybody, including DW, and now DW is friends with S and L, and his friends get along with their friends too, and everybody loves each other the end.

Yeah, I could use names, but its funnier this way.

I saw the History Boys play last night, with a friend who got me a ticket for my birthday. Awesomeness! Said friend, a guy we'll give the nifty name of A, is my best book-and-movie discussing pal, and is very highly attuned to awkward social situations. We decided to sit in the very front row, which meant A ended up staring practically right up the nostrils of whichever boy took centre stage. Oh the awkwardness! Where to look? He ended up looking to the man next to him for guidance on theatre etiquette.

Sometimes I imagine an employment position for someone to do the things that I dislike or can't be bothered doing. Let's say shoe shopping, ordering my room, etc. In this idea the position is something like a personal assistant, I guess, like whatever Elaine was for that guy in Seinfeld. Then, in this weird mental loop, I simultaneously think: That would be a fun job! Like imagine researching different brands of makeup so your client wouldn't waste money on crap stuff. Cool fun! Or creating a system of organisation for past uni work - sounds like a decent job! Working out possible Centrelink entitlements - woopee! Then I wonder why I'm thinking how great a job that would be, when that job is in fact my life, and who thinks about the pros of being employed to run their life?

This train of thought has become more rare recently as I move my thoughts away from making appointments and renewing licenses and shopping and the like, and onto things like limits on parliamentary power and situations in which a third party can enforce a contract. Exams exams.

I had a few weird experiences with male attention at the hostel recently. First one was kind of funny, this Aussie guy in town for a 'fresh start' who was completely not my type (and I mean not the type who would normally go for me, too) deciding that I was a 'real top bird' and grinning and winking at me from the other side of reception while repeating that phrase a lot. He asked me if I liked a good 'Chinese or Italian' meal (these were the two cuisines on offer, apparently) and if I would be interested in joining him. When I brought up my boyfriend he was momentarily deterred but then restated his offer with even more zeal, reminding me that I was a real top bird and he'd always thought I was such a catch, etc, and if I ever got sick of my boyfriend then just call him up for a good Chinese or Italian meal, he'd treat me right. Yeah, he'd treat me right all right! Because I was such a top chick, I was really something! Just remember, if I ever get sick of my boyfriend, alright? Eventually he left, after giving me his number on a scrap of paper. I didn't add it to my phone.

The second one was... well. A bit weirder. There's a guy who used to stay there, a ginger-haired Irish electrician who I always had a soft spot for. He's a very genuine guy, doesn't like the nightlife scene or the rraww my car is better than yours male mentality, just wants to have a laugh and a drink and talk shite, or maybe get me to play some Irish ballads on youtube while he reminisces about people singing in pubs back home. I often have interesting conversations with him. Anyway, he was at a loose end the other night and popped into the hostel, and ended up staying at reception, having a few beers and talking with me for a fair while. At one point it was revealed that I was only 20, and that he had imagined me older and somehow felt 'less intimidated' by me now that he knew how old I was. At another point he started talking about how he found me really attractive but couldn't imagine being intimate with me, and why did I think that was?

Well. By intimate he meant 'cuddly'. Like he couldn't imagine holding me, snuggling with me. Eventually he came to the conclusion that it was because he thought I was more educated than him, and it intimidated him, but that it was his own problem. He asked me if I did like cuddling, like not doing anything but just getting a really warm feeling of wellbeing by lying their touching another (yes) and then seemed to feel really bad that he had assumed I was this cold character who wouldn't do that. At this stage it was kind of awkward but interesting. I had my own theories, but he reckoned it was the education-intimidation thing, and his own insecurity.

We had been talking about checking out this bar, and so when I finished work I went there with him. He knew that I had a boyfriend. But once we were in the bar, and talking there, he started getting really... I don't even know the word. Horny, obviously, but there was more to it than that. Lovey dovey. He had gradually decided that he could, indeed, imagine being 'intimate' with me, and was glad about righting his mental state. He stroked my hands, and words like 'pure' and 'beautiful' were thrown around. He praised the way I was so professional and friendly at the desk, gave people my full attention, really talked to them, engaged with them. I reminded him of bartenders in Ireland. With another guy I would have hightailed it out of there a lot faster, but I really liked this fellow, liked his humanness. I was keeping a close eye on his advances, but I didn't want to scorn him because he had dared show appreciation. Perhaps I didn't want to be seen as cold and uptight, as I assumed he had seen me as before?

I wasn't drinking, because I was driving home, and I had warned him beforehand that I wouldn't stay long. It became increasingly apparent that sooner was better than later, though, when he gazed adoringly and leaned in close to kiss me (I moved away, and he ended up kissing my shoulder, proclaiming the shoulder the 'most attractive part of a woman's body'), and also when he started talking about how he would just love to please me during sex, how he would devote 99% of time to me and he would be happy with that, he wouldn't even mind. He fondled my fingers lovingly, my hands being the one part of my body I was happy to let him touch. At this stage I could practically hear DWs indignation in my head, and was slightly uneasy about the possibility of someone seeing us act all couply. Time to go.

We walked, arms hooked together, back to my car. He kept commenting on my brisk walking pace, although with the disclaimer that he liked that in a girl. "What's the hurry?" he asked. I wasn't even walking that fast, just more in a style of 'getting somewhere' rather than 'savouring the stroll'. It's cold? It's night-time, in town? We're in Light Square? I could think of many reasons, and thought with amusement that if I was with DW, he would be walking fast too.

I was saved the awkward decision of whether to give him a lift home when he stopped at the entrance to the lane where I was parked and was like, "ooh, I don't do dark alleyways". Dude, wasn't there a point to you walking me to my car? But I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to see him off, and made my way to my car alone.

For some reason the whole thing kind of... shook me up a little? I couldn't put my finger on why. The relentless discussion of how I 'came across' to him? (such an ooky topic of mine) Maybe being confronted with the clear opportunity of another guy, did I feel 'restricted' by having a boyfriend? I'm not sure - if anything, DW's existence feels like an anchor, a comfort to me, in those situations - without that tangible line to cross, the 'line' of acceptability would be entirely in my hands, and I don't think I'm good with that. I didn't particularly want to do anything with this guy, but maybe I liked the idea of it? Did I? I didn't even know. But I felt all weirded out, and had to relax by watching a DVD of human dissections once I got home. Mm, science.

- khere is 'logical but extreme'

Stuff and Things

Life has been rather busy lately. I am travelling to a relatively far-away suburb to feed my aunt's cat every day, which on one hand is kind of a pain. But on the other hand it can lead to delicious nights of sex and silliness in a place that isn't within earshot of anybody's family members. That, I think we'll all agree, is a plus.

Kate Miller-Heidke = awesome performer. She played at the Gov on Friday and was grand. My friend and I first ended up in front of these incredibly annoying drunk girls who were almost drowning out the singing with their conversation, and by conversation I mean 'shrieked inane comments interspersed with warbling of incorrect lyrics'. I could ignore them but when my friend politely asked them to keep it down, they responded with the helpful, "IF YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH WHYY DON'T YOU BUY THE CD EY? HUAHUAHUA." Because... we bought gig tickets? As did you? We decided to squeeze our way into another spot, which was much better, except the guy in front of us kept farting. Seriously, these were stinkers. Lucky Kate Miller-Heidke was so engaging that the undesirable crowd members were mere blips on the evening. Her band was pretty hot too.

Then last night I went along to a quiz night, where I believe I was quite unhelpful, especially in matters of geography and sports. Perhaps I redeemed myself by knowing what the word 'nullabor' meant and how many tentacles (?) a squid had, but then again I did convince my team to write that an earthworm had zero hearts, which was... 5 hearts short. DW came along, which made all the difference in the world to my happiness, as I realised I tend to have a rather disproportionate reaction to my requests (for company, etc) being rejected. Seriously. Perhaps it's because I don't tend to ask a lot of people or rely on my friends all that much, and am lacking in practice or experience or something - but if I ask DW something and he says no, not because of inescapable commitments but because he just doesn't want to - it bothers me a lot. Nevermind, it ended well, and both of us amused over how his wilful oblivion to my irritation irks me even further. And then we decided at the last minute to stay at my aunt's house, and had a lovely lovely time with lots of random talking in bed. The end.

Not really. I have more to say. I'm tossing up whether or not to go to another quiz night on Tuesday night, a German club v French club thing. I do desire to be more social within the German club, especially since a girl I know from school is in it and I have, like, a friend to launch off from. (Mel, she's so springy!) On the other hand, I have a meeting on that same night at uni (inaugaral secretary of AUHSSS, yo) so I'll be in town all day, and have to bus it home late etc, and quiz nights are fine but they do tend to drag on... but on the other hand it'd be good to get to know some more people in the club... but on the other hand, I've kind of neglected uni work lately, and I probably should study, you know, sometimes. And if I don't go then I could watch DW's indoor soccer match, which is always a plus. But then again, if I do that then I'm not really studying either. But, it won't actually be long as the quiz night, and they might actually have a chance at winning these week.

Hm. Watch this space.

The majority of Aussies who stay a the hostel are loutish, but the ones who aren't tend to be endlessly interesting. There are three there at the moment:

1. A woman who's with her kids, a 7 year old and a 7 month old. The hostel is not child unfriendly, as such, but it's certainly an adult environment and rather unusual for kids to be staying. For a baby it's probably irrelevant, but for a 7 year old, I dunno - I mean, guests will be going along their business of watching scary movies in the common area, drinking, smoking, swearing, etc, without a second thought to their little companion. What if little Timmy goes onto the balcony and someone's smoking dope? What if he goes for a piddle in the middle of the night and there's a girl and a guy showering together? I'm ambivalent - on one hand (I'm very big on the hands today, aren't I) those potential situations sound bad, on the other hand, the world is an adult environement and on principle, I think giving kid-tailored explanations for adult behaviour is generally preferable to keeping a child in a bubble.

But whatever. The point about this lady is that she seems positively unaware that having children there is unusual, and maybe even inconvenient, for other guests. She doesn't seem to really get the place. Someone will turn off the random documentary playing in the background to put on a DVD and she'll get all offended and like 'excuse me, I was actually WATCHING THAT'. I'll go to grab the rags out of the dryer and come back to hear her bleating at the reception counter, "HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO." as if I am just hiding under the counter in spite.

Worst, or most amusingly, she does this weird humourless chuckle sometimes which seems to convey something like, 'lord, how embarrassing for you.' Eg. she comes in the back door of reception and demands more linen for her kids, and when I give her some she's like, "Not that one! It's all pilled, like it's about to fall apart." Rather than dispute this I gesture at the piles of quilts and invite her to choose, and her response? "Oh, they're all like that! Ooh - of course, right?" Then she chuckles dementedly as if she's just realised the 'inappropriateness' of her remark, like of course she's totally offended me by alluding to the fact that she's in this common place. Which it is. It's a HOSTEL.

2. The woman who I think may have Aspergers, based on my very unscientific observation of her manner. She has a very large, fat face and a deep voice, and she often comes to reception to ask questions disguised as ponderous thoughts. E.g. "Based on my experiences of Perth Zoo, which I visited in --- time, I would estimate that the price of entry to Adelaide Zoo, would be --."
Me: "I can look it up for you if you like - I don't think it's as expensive as that." (opens website)
Her: (continues talking about the facts of Perth zoo, before drifting into a rant about plastic bags)

3. The man who seems to be a twelve year old boy inside a grown up's body. He is super sweet, very nervous and openly confused. Yet as excited as anything to be in Adelaide, which is... refreshing. I talked him through check-in in lots of detail to reassure him, when he told me, "I get so nervous being away from home!" and he kept coming back with more questions and clarifications, e.g. "Could you remind me again where the boy's toilets are?" "So that other bunk in my room, that's for me too?"
"Yup, it's a private room, just you, nobody else."
"Wow! Thanks so much! Will somebody as cool as you be working tomorrow too?"

We can only hope, buddy. I took a photo with his disposable camera, of him standing grinning in front of the brochure wall.

Well, that's enough for now. Bis Spater, na?

- khere wants to share fuel and fun.

What I talk about when I talk about Stuff

Since getting my new ipod, my itunes had refused to upload all songs to it because it couldn't find the source, or whatever. I could have done some stuff to get the lost songs on there, but basically I was lazy and didn't worry about it. But suddenly, itunes did something weird and added nearly all the 'lost' songs, including things I didn't even have anyore on my old ipod, plus doubles of already-added songs, so now I am bursting with new/old music. Hey, Bloc Party are pretty good. Why did I ever dismiss them? Damn old 2GB Ipod, making me forget Bloc Party!

The issue of adjusting to plans/ideas interests me. I saw some lateline thing with two academic females battling it out on issues of marital rape and sexual dynamics. One of them (I think she'd done some sort of research study) suggested that many women tended to claim 'not in the mood' and then stick by their decision, suppressing mood changes that may have otherwise taken place. Heh. Of course there's a very fine line between implying that women should have sex even when they claim they don't want to, and being lenient on marital rape. These ladies were parading down that line. I wouldn't mind reading her book actually; I should try to find who it was. *pinging new ideas radar*

Then there's the similarity between that and the mental flip flop that occurs when 1. you have Sunday off and plan to have a quiet day studying 2. your co-worker messages you asking to cover her shift, because she's sick 3. you agree, first reluctantly but then become happy with your new mental plan for the day 4. you proceed to walk to bus stop 5. you have another message informing you that a different co-worker, who is currently at the hostel anyway, wants the shift to cash up 6. you liase with said co-worker and agree that he can work 7. you walk back home, kinda bummed 8. you figure its actually a good thing, because you didn't want to work anyway, remember? 9. you now don't feel guilty for wasting great chunks of time on facebook and 'blogger' even though you had designated this as study time, because hey, you had already come to the mental conclusion that it was ok to work a 6 hour shift anyway

From sex to work rosters! I win the Most Boring Segue competition!

Other Stuff:

My friend who was kicked out of the hostel (I'm too lazy to figure out how to link to past posts) is apparently running a competition for people to nominate designs for him to tattoo on his knob.

I appear to be quite in favour with all the guests at the moment - last shift Victor (old, cranky, OCD man) was what can only be described as cheerful towards me, expressing gladness that I was on shift. The annoying kiwi architect somehow has the impression that I am the force pulling all the strings around the place (when clearly it's Brian, gosh) and always jokes about how the place is now in 'good hands' whenever he sees me. Chris, a big bouncy-faced English chap who visits sometimes, complimented me on my figure, suggesting I had put on half a kilo in all the right places (um? whatever, I'll take it) and the group of Aussies down in the state for Clipsal were relieved to vent to me about the issues they had with the boss, the airconditioner, the rudeness of another staff member, etc. On request, I got one of them a bucket of water to soak her feet (apparently swollen from the heat of a poorly-functioning air conditioner?) and murmured with shock and disapproval at all the right places in their stories, managing to avoid either dismissing their complaints or badmouthing the hostel and staff with phrases like 'oh I completely understand' 'thanks for letting us know'. And I'm fixing other people's stuff-ups on the reservation system instead of making them. So it's all good there at the moment.

I went to the 21st of a family friend on Friday and got quite drunk, which is kind of embarrassing considering the relatives there and the fact that we left before 11 pm. Maybe it was the concentrated period of drinking over just a few hours, the availability of very drinkable wine on tap, but I ended up throwing up at home for the first time ever for alcohol-induced reasons. Shh. I think the rest of my family was asleep, so my dignity remains intact.

I now own a bunch of free crap that was given to me at the legal careers fair, including a coffee flask, a bottle opener, many pens and note pads, and even a little folded cardboard box full of fantales (left in my locker at uni for chocolate emergencies). My brain kind of went into overdrive reading all the firms' brochures and the legal careers guide publication and whatnot, envisaging myself in all these various positions, for good or bad. I could be a judge's associate! An expert in commercial litigation! A drafter of legislation! A solver of civil disputes! Firms with flexible hours and massages once a month - good, right? Or are all firms evil and bad? What's better: Big or small? Adelaide or interstate? Government or private? What about money? Hours? Future family? *hyperventilates*

Ok, kidding on the hyperventilation. On Tuesday my friend and I are trying our first ever round of a client interviewing competition, with very little idea of what to expect. A step in the right direction anyway, whatever that direction will be.

And for anyone who was wondering, the lentil burgers turned out very good, better than even I expected.

Is it weird/pretentious to refer to myself as Khere, as if that's my, uh, name? persona? I don't think you can be a persona if nobody knows about it. If a tree falls...?

khere is a falling tree in an empty forest.

Pickles

THE GOOD:

My comfy wumfy pants. OMGZ SO comfies!

Getting my groove back in the first German tutorial. This may have something to do with the abscene of the girls who are all OMG WE'VE ENTERED THE ROOM EVERYONE talky talky laugh-loudly-at-the-tutor's-jokes, oh-we-so-get-it-even-though-its-in-german, now lets whisper loudly to each other in german! (Hm. I need to work on my concise adjectives.) Anyway, one half of the said pair is actually lovely, and the other is not entirely awful, but it is nice to not hear the same cutesy voices every two seconds. Our tutorial is at 5 pm so the uni is nice and emptied and there are like six people in the class, plus we've got the sweet East-german tutor that I liked from last year. But to be honest, I enjoy feeling competent and loquacious again.

(But did I go too far in my excitement to share my associations with the word 'integration'? First, I offered something dramatic about how it used to be a positive, but now was seen as a negative, because people lost their own culture! Then, after a few simple entries by the others like 'language' and 'living together', in an attempt to not to seem too radical, I mentioned that if people of different cultures lived 'close' together without integrating, there could be 'violence'! The tutor murmured something about that being an extreme example.)

A break with unigirlfriend, signing up for a legal comp and talking about social stuff.

Brian offering his apologies for putting me on a back to back shift and offering to take over earlier on Wednesday evenings should I ever want him to.

Experimenting with going to bed with wet hair and a little product = waking up with nice nice curls.

THE BAD

Keep a non-paying former guest's passport as security, or give it to them because they need it to get paid? Would you pay back money owed for nights you slept somewhere for free, if you were just getting back on your feet and finally had nothing tying you there? What's to stop you taking the passport and walking away? What if you were annoyed about how you'd been treated there? I've got to say, if I was in that situation I'd put pretty high regard on looking after number one. Perhaps I'd mail the hostel a cheque for what I thought was fair, then never show my face around there again. Perhaps honour would win out and I would return the passport and promise the money soon. Perhaps the free breakfast given by the receptionist girls would keep me on their good side. Here's hoping, for my sake!

And then there's the woman who wants to go to Kangaroo Island, who finally gets the last place on the second-best tour and is waiting promptly for her tour bus in the morning, who waits forty minutes before coming back to the hostel. The bus driver who misses her on the list but comes back just as she's gone and calls (leaving no number, so I have to wait til the office is open twenty minutes later to contact anyone) to say he can't wait any longer and has to go. Too late to catch a taxi, no chance to book another tour. I actually felt sorry for him too, after giving him an earful of my (rightful) disapproval, because he obviously took his boo boo to heart. And then I had: "Sticky situation! I'll give you a sticky situation!" in an American Parent-Trap accent continuously refraining in my head.

THE UGLY

Call it office politics, suspected theft, a testosterone war, 'no trust', the IT boy claiming too much authority, a tendency to 'annoy' staff behind the front desk, a tendency to 'help' staff behind the front desk, stepping out of the view of cameras, too much 'social acumen', a dirty set up. Morgan's been kicked out of the hostel and it sucks. For him, I would imagine, even more than for us, since we're talking about his home and family. Damn it.

Bobbling head

A mix of social obligations on the horizon. Dinner in town with a mixed group of old school buddies tonight, the 21st birthday DW's friend tomorrow night, and a housewarming party on Sunday for some uni girls who have just moved down to the 'big smoke' from the country. In the still-further future there is a night of house-sitting which DW has gone so far as to roster off work, heh. And plenty of relatives' birthdays. Does town feature into any of my social plans? Perhaps not, although I am half-inclined to convince DW to come to see a magician/mentalist show with me while the Fringe is on, a guy who apparently stayed at the hostel before I worked there and was quite... awe-inspiring. DW is not normally my choice of companion for those sorts of outings (rather, by his own choice he's a closer-to-home type) but... who else will get geeked out with me over a magician? Anyway, yeah, I feel kind of over the whole drinky drinky town scene at the moment, but isn't it lucky that at present there are many things to do in Adelaide city apart from that. Mad March!



Recent realisations:



I eat meat almost every day. I don't really *need* to eat that much meat. I have no desire to be vegetarian, exactly, but from an environmental/economic standpoint I don't really feel like I should chow down on the animal flesh as much as I do. Plus, I just grossed myself out typing that last sentence. Maybe it'll be the vegie platter for me tonight.

When my car has a funny smell, I should alert the authorities (by which I mean: my dad) ASAP because it means that water is leaking from something and is a precursor to an overheated car and a wet carpet and a new radiator and a bill.

I have almost the least amount of responsibility and authority at work, which actually suits me fine. There is this new kinda chain of authority where people who are in other senses 'equal' now have to sign off each other's books and all that jazz, and I am basically out of it because I don't do anything extra apart from run reception. On one hand, there's my boss saying to me that he would have loved me to be the one to start organising procedure manuals and stuff, but that he knows with uni and whatever I'm too busy to commit myself to that. Which is true. However, I seem to be screwing up a lot lately anyway with basic things like guest's money and forgetting to extend them on the computer, so on the other hand I'm thinking that it may be for the best anyway. Speaking of work, I stayed over on Thursday when I worked a back-to-back night and morning shift, and wasn't that a laugh and a half. I was giddy and happy drinking a cruiser with some friends on the balcony after I finished, then subjected myself to the cold shower of the northern toilet block, then... then when sleeping time began, there was massive noise from the TV, despite my room being upstairs, and city traffic and germans arguing in the next room and somebody rhythmically pounding on the door to their room when they forgot their key in the middle of the night (I let him in with my magical key). So, it wasn't the most restful night. I'm yet to decide whether or not its preferable to catching a bus home and getting up half an hour earlier.

Tata for now.

Love and Hate

There are times where my job grates on my nerves and sensibilites. Times when the place can only be described as 'dysfunctional' and its my role to take the steers, if only for an evening, and navigate through the crap. Times when it seems like I'm surrounded by a bunch of caricatures, times when everyone lives up to their worst ethnic stereotype, times when I'm painfully aware of how I have to condone, if not initiate, dangerous and irresponsible practices for the sake of the night running smoothly.

Then there are moments when I feel very lucky. Moments that I see the world as a rich and endlessly interesting place. Moments when I am surprised at the layers of every individual who I get to know. The NZ guy sleeping in the parklands who chats about how he won a trip to the Globe Theatre for his high school Shakespeare performance. The angry old middle-eastern fellow who puts on his nice shirt to go out and suddenly tells me how he gets self-conscious about how he looks. The big Aussie in the rainbow jumper and kooky glasses with the dreams for a revolutionary public transport system, revealing his suddenly somber divorce story.

And its not just perceptions about others that change, its perceptions about myself, about 'us', Australians in general. Are we, like the cuddly Irish guy suggested, less communal than our UK counterparts? Is it true that Aussies are friendly on the surface but just want to get back into their powerful cars and drive home to their wide-screen TVs?

Plus, of course, there are the little perks of the job, like getting drunk on shift during the Australia Day/Chinese New Year celebrations. Oyy. That was certainly an interesting night! Being drenched with water on the balcony, ringing DW and giggling uncontrollably, having my sober buddy take over the desk for a short time, seeing the wry affectionate looks from Mr Irish at the 'front bar' slash reception desk, getting a massage from the hospital security guard... good times...

But, enough about the hostel. I've got a day off, and I'm quite glad for it. On the weekend I'm having some people around for a BBQ party thing, and I'm just realising I need to plan a little more than just posting the event on facebook. Eg: food? Drinks? Sweeping the yard? Is the pool clean?

DW and I have been, well, not rocky but not smooth lately. There are lingering issues, questions I have about his willingness to make time for us, irritations about how he's being complacent, taking this relationship for granted. Here isn't really the place to nut it out (I did speak to him yesterday, and I was quite proud of my articulate and calm manner - there is no other choice, really, when speaking about such matters) but its been playing on my mind a little. To be continued.

You know what makes me angry? Babies and toddlers getting their ears pierced. Something about hearing a littel girl screaming and bawling in the beauty shop as her skin is mutilated for beauty standards really, really shits me, in an irrational GRAAAA sort of way. Oh, I know plenty of people who themselves got their ears pierced at four years old or six months old or whatever, and they seem to be normal human beings, but I just can't. get behind. why you would subject a perfectly beautiful little toddler to pain that they don't understand, for a PERMANENT CHANGE IN THEIR BODY SO THEY CAN WEAR PINK STUDS. Pink studs which the parent will have to clean and rotate on schedule, because oh yeah babies don't really have that autonomy to look after their own bodies yet, do they. Oh, I alter my own body in ways to appear attractive by societal beauty standards all the time - my hair has highlights, my eyebrows and girly bits are waxed, legs shaved, I wear make-up, etc etc. But I think, in an ideal world, everyone would do those things knowing that they are doing them based on an ideal of beauty, understanding what the process will entail (pain, stubbly regrowth, monetary expense, etc) and being able to independently manage the effects (the steps to prevent infection around the piercing site, for example). To do otherwise just... well, it doesn't even make me angry any more, it just makes me feel a little sad and sick. But I'll get off my soap box.

In fact, I'm going to go to the gym. I have a three week membership. Other airconditioning-based plans for the day include: watching Greys Anatomy, and possibly cleaning out my bookshelf. We'll see which one of those gets priority.

A black notebook will make everything better

I feel like typing, feel like opening the stopper and letting the brain words come out, but it seems there are no brain words to come. Wait... maybe there are a few.

I got a Bras 'n Things voucher for Christmas, and today I bought an excessive amount of naughty knickers with it. The voucher was for $50, and the purchase came to around $60. Sixty dollars! In one knicker-buying spree! After suspiciously looking at the receipt to see how a few frilly things on sale could possibly come to such a figure, I discovered that one pair stood out from the crowd at $26.90. That's one hell of an ass-coverer. Lucky it was shiny. I had better receive some appreciative fondling while wearing that one.

Yesterday I gave blood, which went okay despite my apparently weeny veins. I think I had the most senior person, and I felt relieved when my nurse was the one that the other lady was asking for help. I also had to suppress a smile when, at the request for help, my nurse stopped her friendly chat with me and turned to face her colleague with a steel-faced glare. "You'll just have to wait your turn." Tension in the blood bank. Apparently in China, once you give blood three times, you're entitled to free transfusions for yourself and immediate family if you ever need it. As Brian pointed out, "If everybody in China give blood three times, that's a lot of blood." Damn straight.

Speaking of work, I had one of those moments this morning that I knew would have to happen some time - I was locked out, due to the door code being changed and nobody alerting me. Damn them! A lady in a tour bus was waiting outside for a guest and I could imagine her watching my progress as I tried the door code, looked confused, tried it again, looked it up in my phone, tried it again, then grumpily started calling everybody who might be able to help me. Nobody answered their phones, including the hostel phone, and I retreated into the bus. We both waited, a little tense and irritated, for a guest to emerge from the hostel door - Ms Tour Guide so she could leave and not miss the ferry, me so I could get inside my own workplace. I then called my boss, who was thankfully already up and awake, but didn't know the door code either. "I'll try to call them!" he offered. This amused me, because of the personal insult that the other staff members being willing to answer to him, but not me, would have implied (let's not tell her the door code, then deliberately ignore the phone when she calls from the chilly doorstep!). For all the shambles that that place can be, I don't think people are that horrible. Anyway, the late guest on the tour did emerge, I got inside, and hopefully they got to the ferry on time.

All right. Low battery, and that's enough word drip. And another early start tomorrow. Here's to the underachieving British kids on TV.

Night on the town

A tourist in my own town!

That's what it felt like, last night, combined oddly with a sense of being at home, of properly belonging at the hostel. For a friend's birthday, 4 of us girls had a night on the town complete with cheap (or, uh, free!) overnight accommodation at my workplace. Awesomest idea. Three of us bussed it into town and dumped our stuff in the hostel room first. There was a pillow case shortage, and the reception girl's lack of concern about this irked me slightly, perhaps more of a show to the others than because it was a real problem... but hey, I know what a bag of unwashed linen in reception looks like. I took the girls out onto the balcony to say hi to people, and we heard Paddy McIrish's advice again about not eating too much before heading to Red Rock Noodle Bar, a place which I hold in high esteem. Of all the (two) varieties of food which I have ever eaten there, they have never disappointed! They served lovely and cheap house rose, satay sauce with their prawn crackers, our little Asian waitress was cute, and they played clapping over the sound system for someone else's birthday celebration. What's not to love? Nevertheless, I didn't finish all of my spicy pineapple fried rice, not wanting to be a Sleepy Sally by midnight.

Back to the hostel, after springing my friend's wild little sister with a fake ID in town after Schutzenfest. My buddy was behind the counter this time, greeting us with, "Do you guys want alcohol?" He was being quite cute and my friends liked him. My good karma with him was rewarded by free drinks for us all. There were quite a few people around now, and it was exhilarating to be there in a truly social sense. Also, I don't want this to sound weird, but the hostel is kind of a testing ground for how I look. You know if you're getting the vibes. People notice, people check out, people comment, people flirt. I was indeed feeling the vibes, and I liked it when I was having fun with Amit, trying to hold my TED less like a cruiser and more like a manly beer, and Amit overheard the Korean guy and girl near us chatting. "What's that, something about girls' bodies? I like that topic," he said. "What were you saying?" Mr Sweet Rice-Lifter replied, "We say she look very beautiful tonight," nodding at me. Naw. You know, I love how the Asians use the word beautiful where we would say simply nice or good. I hear it from Hong (an older Chinese nursing student) sometimes too, and it makes me smile. Vey Beautifoo!

We declined the invitation to join some of the party-loving Indians at HQ, and went to Woolshed on Hindley St first. There we bumped into a fellow who had been the year below us at school, and his mate who had finished at the next-door public high school in the same year as us. Said guy and I started talking (well, it was pretty noisy, but I caught enough to have time-appropriate body language and facial expressions - thanks, Germany!) and then he seemed to, well, attach himself to me like a pseudo-boyfriend for the night. He seemed a nice enough guy, and I didn't really mind.

Our fourth girl companion joined us at the Woolshed, and then the time between then and the end of the night passed in a bit of a blur, with dancing, talking, learning martial arts moves, meeting momentarily with some guys from school who I was glad to part with (one of my friends wanted to hook up with one of them, but this would mean that I would be stuck with the other, a self-absorbed bore), a cowboy shot which somehow ended up on my hair and top instead of in my mouth, and lots of poking and tickling from my new friend. We went to Jive, then Swish, where we stayed until last drinks and lights on. Swish was funny. There were a bunch of teachers from our high school there, drunk as anything. One of them was this dorky ginger-haired English teacher, a round-faced man with a lisp. He lives somewhere very city-central, so all these cool young P.E. and tech teachers go out with him to take advantage of his hospitality. Hahah. Actually, I used to always think that Mr Ginger was kind of cute, but my gay friend and I later agreed that he was much less cute up close. Anyway, he was the only teacher who really knew who I was, and was trying to ask sensible questions about uni and my degree while we were on the dance floor. Meanwhile, the other teachers were meeting my friend's, "Who are you?" with "The best time of your life!"

As this was going on, I was getting a bit sick of my lover boy, and on occasion one of the girls would 'rescue' me from his dancing with a twirl to the other side of the group. I'm kind of bad though, being aware that I was giving him just enough attention to keep his interest, but not enough for him to really get into it. He knew that I had a boyfriend, in any case. In fact, he started using this in some weird lines. When some strangers came by and started dancing, taking my hand in the air and whatnot, he got all frowny. "If they try to dance with you, you can come back to me!" he said valiantly. "I know you've got a boyfriend and they don't!" First: Why do you think that somewhat-sexy dancing with them is something I would need to escape from, when doing the exact same thing with you was ok? What do you think these guys would do in their naive ignorance of my relationship status, that I wouldn't have any control over? I do get his point, and in a sense it was nice that he was looking out for me, but in a sense it was also... unneccesary. If I went too long without catching his eye or dancing close to him he would reach out and give me a little tickle on the waist, like, "hey, remember, I do that thing where I poke you and you do that thing where you retaliate and fight me off? Wasn't that fun?"

After we said goodbye to the guys and left Swish, it seemed like a good option to take off our heels, something which I normally avoid in town. I walked with the friend who came later up to where her car was parked to grab her stuff, which seemed disgusting when we came back the next day and looked more seeing-ly at all the oil and black shit on the concrete. EW. And DANGEROUS. As we went back to the hostel, we met the teachers who were still outside Swish. "You again!" I said. We walked along with them, telling them where we were staying, and somehow two of them (the one who I have dubbed Mr Ginger, and another who I will dub... Mr Blond) decided they were coming too. "Tell them they can't!" muttered my friend. "You're the boss!"

We stopped at the convenience store first and bought some snacks, and I discovered that the Indian guy on shift used to work at the hostel under the old managers, and was now at the other hostel. Although I was excited by this common ground, we didn't chat about the rich building owner for long before my expertise was required to get into the door. And... it didn't work! I knew the code, and it unlocked, but I couldn't push it forward. "It's like its deadlocked or something!" we panicked, and they wanted me to wake up the poor person on night-shift, but thankfully I had the sense to pull the door instead of pushing it. Oh right, maybe it isn't a push-forward door like I righteously claimed. After all this, the teachers followed us right in.

"You know you can't actually stay for long," I warned. Mr Blond drunkenly asserted that they were coming in our room. "Pretty sure, no," I said, reverting to school-speak. One friend and I went to the kitchen to share some instant noodles, and Mr Blond exclaimed over it all, like wow we were actually staying here, you work here, this is like a kitchen, hey this is soy sauce, durrr. I glimpsed Brian the night-owl in the common area and made more of a point of telling them that they had to go. Mr Blond started picking up people's bottles of sauce and stuff and shifting them into other pigeonholes, and then I was suddenly shrieky like, DUDE. NO. YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE PIGEONHOLES. Well, pardon my sensitivity, but you're not the one who has been verbally abused by a psycho bleeding old man who has lost his eggs. Although luckily we were away from Victor's pigeonhole side.

Anyway, I pointed out that I actually worked here and was not quite supposed to let strange men in at night, feeling like quite the school captain. Some people manage to stay in their school roles, gosh. Mr Ginger got the idea and started heading out, but Mr Blond was still like "party in your room! durrr." I basically kept waving goodbye at him until they left. Hahah.

Well, the night was drawing to a close and so is this bloody long recount. We slept, I woke early from the sunlight, and I don't really feel worse for wear at all. Yay for girls night!

A very retail Christmas to you and to you

Another Christmas Eve at the nut shop, another dud Christmas shirt. When grabbing one off the rack at Cheap as Chips I guess I was too distracted by ensuring that it was a tolerable colour (black... red and white aren't really *my thing*, yanow) and a decent size (i.e. somewhere in between kidswear and tent) to notice that a bulging cartoon thermometer isn't the best thing to have in vicinity of the word 'naughty'. Oh dear.

Its the time of year where we decide which of the 'newies' we want to keep on after their stints as Christmas casuals. One girl first struck me as very outgoing, confident with customers, chatty, etc. I liked her. However, conversations behind boxes in the back room have revealed that I am perhaps the only one of that opinion, and that in fact many people have indicated to the manager that they 'won't work with her' as they find her incredibly grating and annoying. Attempts to convince me first seemed like outraged gibberish. "Have you seen the way she stands? Yes, exactly like that! With her hands on her hips! And she does this and this - " "And the way she leans on the counter..." "I showed [other new girl] how to change an EFTPOS roll and she kept just looking! And now she'll probably think she knows how to change it too!"

THE HORROR! EFTPOS ROLL INITIATIVE!

Having said that, I can understand some reservations. While I think it's a little bitter to stop potentially valuable people working because they seem too good too early, or some such, it is true that you need a degree of... compliance... when you're new at a job. When we say jump you say how high! When we say fill you say how full! Etc.

Anyway, we have these stickers that say 'I made the biggest sale today!' and this girl decided to take one for herself. "Was mine the biggest sale? If not, I'll just write 'second biggest' on there! BAHAHAHA..." Apparently she actually did this when somebody 'overtook' her sale. Whatever. (I'm sorry, this anecdote seems to have been bogged in backstory, like a hiker caught in quicksand). A while later I'm on my break, eating a pretzel at the back room table, when I hear the pissed-off voice of another staff member, who is the manager's daughter and the biggest detractor of this new girl. "A second-biggest sale does not exist," I hear her saying, the frost of her statement practically seeping under the back room door. "Whatsoever!"

Buh... um. Point taken, these stickers shall not be donned lightly! But... this staff member was adamant even later on that there was no such thing as a second-biggest sale. There... kinda is. I mean. If we're being technical, here.

PET HATES OF NUT SHOP

Customers who don't get that two products may be different prices. "These are the same price, so can you mix them together?"
"Actually, they're different prices," (said politely) "But I can still mix them together for you..." (proceeds to weigh out separately.)
"No, they're the same price."
"Well actually they're not -"
"They're both seven dollar bags."
"Um, one is seven dollars for 250 grams, the other one is seven dollars for 210 grams, you see? They're a different kilo price. But thats ok! I can still mix them together."

The fact that it is a months-long process to get a shirt in another size, and even then it seems I only have a choice of short and square or long and rectangular. You'd think, being in a job involving much bending and squatting, they'd make a blouse that didn't expose half your back every time you dug a scoop from a lower display... but no. After many buttons fell off my old shirt I ended up with a super large one, and without the curves to carry it off I resemble an orange tent in my work uniform. However, I guess it has the pleasant rare bonus of everyone exclaiming with surprise over my figure when I come into work out of uniform as if they'd forgotten I had a a torso under there.

The family-oriented staff team can be quite bitchy and cliquey.

Customers who think they're really funny. "It says grab a bag, does that mean I can grab it and not pay? Nyuh nyuh nyuh. See darl, grab a bag. Hah."

Despite the fact that there are many undesirable customers, some staff bitch about customers who really aren't that bad. In fact, the main problem may be that they're Asian.

Customers who can clearly speak fluent English, but just jab at displays instead of reading the labels on there. Um, there's a curved wall and a bunch of products between your finger and my line of sight. A little clearer, please? I guess there are probably more illiterate among us than I'd realise, but. Come on.
"That one."
"The dry-roasted mix?"
"No, that one."
*Leans exaggeratedly over counter to crane at where customer is pointing* "The... unsalted millionaires mix?"
*Jabs harder* "THAT ONE."
"I'm sorry, I can't see from this side - second one along?"
"THAT ONE. The... the MIX."

Gah. Even if you can't read, use some bloody communication. The one in the bottom corner? The one with all the peanuts? I get way more irritated by English speakers who can't communicate than I do at ethnic sorts.

THINGS I LIKE ABOUT THE NUT SHOP

It's easy to roster time off.

Being part of a 'team' does has something going for it, at Christmas at least. The hostel is good in other ways (gee, maybe next post I'll do a comparable list! Won't that be exciting!) but being part of a group can be sort of nice. Sometimes you want to be a cog in a big established machine rather than an eccentric doo-hickey that you can wind up to totter along by itself. (Um).

For the most part, customer requests are simple and easily fulfilled. This is an overlooked good point. Also, even the most annoying customer? They leave. Could you imagine if they lived in the shop, and on top dealing with all their requests and concerns you also had to collect their rent, except they had no money, and they were waiting for Centrelink on Tuesday, and maybe you could kick them out but they have nowhere to go and they'd live in the car but its raining and the wife's got the flu, gee maybe they could do some work in lieu of payment but then they leave and don't do that and then they come back breathing their smoke in your face and getting up close with their grotty teeth and saying that they want to sort out the payment, like didn't we already DO that, I believe there are still bathroom tiles needing to be scrubbed which you dodged out of, IN A SYSTEM WE WORKED OUT TO KEEP A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD, so maybe they could rock up to work if they're not going to pay, and then you can't get stroppy with them because they've befriended other staff always want to speak to someone 'higher' and of course they're going to pay, otherwise why would they have come back? Do you think they're a bad type or summink?

Uh.

I think I've spent too much time at work these last few weeks. At work, or at Christmas 'do's'. This post is clearly deteriorating. I don't mind either job at all, and I do like seeing family and friends as well, of course, but you know. A girl needs a little hermit time every once in a while. On that note, you can't just sit rambling away your thoughts forever. Boyfriends are coming over soon, gifts are to be exchanged, and somebody made a calender appointment on my phone with 'location: DW's pants'.

Merry Christmas. Seriously =)