Single Bill

Australia's major telephone & internet provider, Telstra (its 3rd name during Mine Host's dealings with it) a few years ago spent really really big on advertising the fact that they now offered "Single Billing":

All your telephone & internet services could be put onto the one bill. For your convenience.

With something like thirty-five telephone lines & at least ten adsl internet connections, and just about all of them on their own individual monthly bill, the office at the Wayside Tavern was in a constant state of "pending" bills to Telstra.

Single Billing certainly appealed to Mine Host. Get it all onto the one bill. Get rid of all the confusion, and make it easy to see if Telstra is slipping in any extra services.

Single Billing hasn't happened yet. There have been several false starts over the past few years. Anyone who has had the experience of being a Telstra customer will know what I mean. They start a project, in this case consolidating your phone lines onto a single bill, then several months later when you enquire how it is coming along, they have "no record" of the matter, and the account executive you asked for "left the company months ago sir".

The current attempt has been underway for almost six months. It is the most successful so far, having actually gotten most services put onto the one bill.

Some services continue to be billed individually (it seems Telstra is unable to swap everything at once!) and some services have (inexplicably) been put onto the bill of the next pub up the street.

Abortion

Anyone who has followed, even peripherally, the policital dogfights of our cousins in the USA will have noticed that the practice of aborting unborn humans is a hot issue there.

A quick straw poll of Australians, conducted just now by Mine Host, has revealed that 99% of Australians have never given abortion a thought, have no idea what (or even if) the laws on it are. Those who had given thought to abortion fell into one of two schools of thought:

• Those who say it occurs when your cows eat the wrong type of grass, or something and,
  


• Those who say it occurs when your ewes eat the wrong type of grass, or something.

However, in contrast to his tuned-out (& un-american) fellow countrymen, Mine Host has strong opinions on the subject!

Mine Host's view on abortion has been formed in the crucible of experience.

It should:

• Be legal at any time from birth through to 24 years of age.
  


• Be decided by a spontaneous but unanimous vote of 4 sober adults who have no criminal convictions.
  


• Be be carried out on the spot, within 30 seconds of the vote.

Under Mine Host's rules most "abortions" will be carried out near to a pub, shortly after closing time.

Anyone who has been present - and in a state of sobriety - when a nightclub closes, will understand & be an enthusiastic supporter of the above "abortion law".

Sick Leave

Young fellow who works in the Wayside Tavern's driveway would like to have Wednesday off work.

Not on your nelly! There will be trucks to unload & several pallets to unpack, and he's told that he'd better be there!

He says that he'd really like it off, as he's having "a procedure" the evening before, and won't be feeling all that well on Wednesday.

Can't he have the procedure another day? When work won't be affected? (Wednesday is always a day of much activity in the driveway.) He'll think about that, but is excited about the "procedure" and can't wait for it.

Come Wednesday he doesn't front for work.

Thursday he turns up, & we discover the exact nature of the "procedure" he underwent.

He'd had a fully-coloured-in tattoo inked onto his entire back. His back from kidneys to shoulders was a scabbed mess. Now we know what ailed him so.

This is not reasonable grounds for leaving his workmates to carry the load for him on a busy day.

He was lucky his boss didn't clout him! (That still may happen, the driveway boss is a big man, & very intolerant of indolent youth)

He actually expected sympathy, or something.

Too Much Information.......!!

Position Vacant:

1. Chef


2. Duties: All aspects of kitchen operations.


3. Reporting to: Head Chef


4. Salary $65,000 p.a.


5. Location: Outer Barcoo (where churches are few..etc.)


6. Staff Accommodation & meals available.


7. Majority of roster will be nights


8. Roster will be 2/7 weekend work.

The above is not a real job ad, it is an example of a job advertisment.

Anyone who is able to read this advertisment & process all Eight bullet points will be ahead of most, if not all, of the applicants.

Most job applicants are able to process only Two, perhaps Three of the above points. Or less if the advertisment is laid out as a paragraph instead of simple bullet points.

Inability to absorb at least Five of the Eight simple points is bad enough.

The really good bit:

Most applicants will absorb the 2 or 3 points they like, & fill in the rest of the "blanks" themself.

Example:

The above will attract applicants who may well have copied & pasted the ad into their job application, and then during their Third or Fourth interview (by phone or skype) will lose their temper (yep, rudely blow their stack) upon discovering that the job is located on the "Outer Barcoo".

"I only want jobs in Brisbane, I wouldn'ta applied if I knew it was in woop-woop, you've wasted my time!)

Or: "I wasn't looking for a job that included weekend work (chef job?), You shoulda told me this, You have wasted my time!"

Or: "I was looking for at least $100,000 per year, if I knew you were offering less I wouldn'ta applied, you've wasted my time!"

Happens every single time, EVERY single job ad I run gets otherwise qualified or suitably experienced applicants, who clearly do not read the job ad, and then conduct themselves in a most rude manner.

Surprisingly the incidence is greater among ethnics, Australians of NESB, & international applicants.

Breakfast

With the manager booked in for a stiff interview, Mine Host is having breakfast whilst pondering the matter.

Earlier that morning, a stroll past the Presidential Suite (where the manager's daughter is recalcitrantly well dug in) had revealed that the place looked "lived in".

What appeared to be mundane domestic laundry was drying on the balcony - not a good look for a premier accommodation property.

However Mine Host's eagle eye was drawn to the dominant item on the balcony. A well used weights bench. This is not something one would associate with a girl living alone. She is living with her boyfriend.

Inwardly seething at this, Mine Host strolls on. The forecourt of the outdoor bistro, carefully decorated with bamboo & the like in waist-high pots, is instead the domain of the boyfriend's work car, the decorative pot plants having been pushed roughly aside (probably with Mine Host's forklift).

This settles it. This business is being run for the benefit of the manager's family. No employee can take such liberties & expect to keep their job, or get a reference.

It is now just a matter of how to end the manager's tenure with the minimum of disruption.

In the middle of breakfast, Mine Host is startled to see the boyfriend, clad in Y-fronts & pyjama shirt, strolling into the restaurant - with one hand down "there" engaging in a good scratch. He ladles Two plates high with food, then strolls out, carrying the Two plates.

The morning staff didn't bat an eyelid. Clearly this is common practice. Oh boy, it just gets better & better!

Mine Host questions the girl in charge of the floor: Was there anybody who had breakfast this morning without paying?

Earenstly she shakes her head, oh no, everybody pays.
Mine Host gets her to confirm this by asking a second time. Yep, everybody who ate paid for it.

"That lout who came in before, the one who hadn't bothered to wash & acted like this restaurant is his personal pig-sty, did he pay?"

*silence*

"I don't know who you mean" (Her face is now going red)
"The fellow in his underwear, who took Two plates piled with food, he didn't pay, did he?"

*pause*

"... That was a staff meal...." (She affects confidence)

"It is not a staff meal. Staff meals, such as they may be, are strictly to not be taken away, furthermore staff meals are available only to staff. Whoever that fellow is, he isn't staff."

"....That is ....Paul" (I didn't think the human face could turn a colour redder than beetroot, but she is proving it can)
"Hmm, the question was: Did he pay?"
"Breakfast is part of his deal" (her confidence is faltering)
"What deal?"

(NB: There has only ever been one "deal": "No money = no drinkee/eatee"

"......Well.... he lives here...... with Maxine........."
"So he just comes in, dressed how he pleases, & carries away any food that catches his eye?"
"........It is part of his....... package deal" (She is now so red she is turning black)

This is enough. The interview with the Manager is going to be quite something.
The outcome of the interview isn't in doubt, only the amount of disruption that will be caused.

Mine Host is going to try for an orderly change of manager, we'll see how the interview pans out.

Oh brother, is the boyfriend onto a good thing. Living with a cute young girl, set up house for free in the Presidential Suite of a premier hotel, eating like a Lord for free in one of the best restaurants north of Sydney.

Oh brother, hasn't the manager booked themself in for the high jump!

the Law that Never Was

An underage person is caught using a faked ID to attempt entry to the Wayside Tavern.

The fake ID is confiscated and the police are called. (This is what the rule book says we must do).
Two constables (humourless slender females) attend & deal with the matter in a most perfunctory fashion. They keep the fake ID, but show little to no interest in the underager who attempted to use it.

However the constables do show considerable interest in the pub. They point out a person at the bar who has "obviously" had too much to drink, and warn that we had "better not serve him any more tonight" (the bar manager resolves to ignore this directive, as the fellow has barely arrived, is probably so sober that he'd pass a roadside breath test, & is exhibiting the same outward behavioural signs as a department store mannequin.)

They then take a look around & decide that the pub is "too full" of people & order the doors closed.

The bar manager gets this message straight to the office, thus Mine Host countermands the order before it has a chance to be implemented.

This provokes the ire of the constables, who storm along to the office. (here we go again)

The spokesman of the pair demands to know what Mine Host thinks he is doing.

Mine Host calmly enquires which piece of legislation they were invoking when ordering the pub closed. (There follows a bit of to-&-fro.)

Knowing they have been caught bluffing, the mood of the constables gets worse.

The more simple minded police cannot cope mentally when their actions are challenged. Their usual response is to arrest or write a ticket.

Neither a fine nor an arrest are options which are available to her in this case, as the woman is trying to enforce a law that doesn't actually exist.

This sends her into near apoplexy.

The taller of the pair whips out her notebook and with pencil poised, demands in her most arrogant voice:

"And what is your name sir?"

This question is apparently meant to intimidate Mine Host.
This woman is so dim she doesn't realise how much she is compounding her foolishness.

Mine Host is a publican. Not only are our names & place of business the subject of strict licencing requirements, we have passed government probity checks to a level that equals that met by judges.

Compared to us, schoolteachers, army officers, lawyers & government officers are fly-by-nighters.

Mine Host is well aware of his station in the community.

And this woman is cluelessly asking my name as a (failed) tactic of intimidation, knowing full well who I am (she's known me for years.)

All because she is powerless, having been caught trying to enforce a law that does not exist.

Taking it to the Top

Having been stiffed by his law firm, with a bill for a .... rather aspirational amount, and not having got much sympathy from his lawyer, Mine Host has an idea.

He goes to see one of the law firm's senior partners.

The partner is caught unawares by the matter. Which is pretty much how Mine Host felt when he got the big fat bill.

The meeting is productive. Mine Host obliquely drops a reminder about the size of his legal bills and makes an even more obscure reference to how much he enjoys being a client of the firm & looks forward to a productive future relationship etc. etc.

This message is not lost, not on a firm that is losing clients & is having to retrench staff.
Mine Host now feels that the matter will be resolved in an adult manner.

The meeting ends with the partner assuring Mine Host that the matter will be looked into.

Actually it doesn't. The meeting ends with the senior partner chatting on for Twenty minutes or so about how much he'd like to take Mine Host along with him on his next overseas trip.

(Mine Host & the senior partner have a common background, one that is shared by very few - if any - lawyers or publicans).

Still, this is a most surreal ending to a meeting during which one has more or less accused the firm of cheating a client.

Siamese Twins

Two males are attempting to enter the Wayside Tavern.

Only One of them has valid ID (driver's licence).

At entry to the Wayside Tavern patrons are photographed, and their driver's licence is scanned into special softward programme. This is a condtion of entry.

It takes Seven seconds to admit a patron. Time is precious. Two minutes arguing the toss in the doorway with someone who isn't going to be allowed in, is time that could have been used to let in Seventeen people.

However this incident did not happen at a busy time. Thus instead of shoving them out of the way, the guards have the time to talk.

This sort of conversation follows a more or less standard script:

"Sorry mate, no ID - no entry"
"C'mon mate, I don't need it, surely I look like I'm old enough."
"Sorry mate, no ID - no entry"
"C'mon mate, I only wanna come in for a few beers."
"Sorry mate, no ID - no entry"
"C'mon mate, surely you can see that I don't look anything like underage...?"
"Sorry mate, no ID - no entry"
"This bloke here'll tell you I'm okay...."
"Sorry mate, no ID - no entry"
........etc etc etc.........

Then the fellow who does have his driver's licence with him speaks:
"It's okay fellers, he can use mine to get in." He then produces his licence & hands it to his friend.

The guards process this information (quite a pause) then just as they are about to scan & photograph the fellow with the "newly issued" driver's licence they pause,

"Hang on, if he uses your licence, how will you get in?"
"Oh, that's okay, once he's used it he can give it to me & I'll use it to get in."

The guards accept this.

Just as they are about to proceed they pause again,

"Hang on fellers, if you're going to use the one licence for Two people you may as well both be photographed together."

So the two blokes put their arms around each other's shoulders & stand up smartly in a tight hug for the camera.

The guards then usher them into the pub.

They did this in front of me.

Yes, the next week there were all new faces in the doorman's role.

Merely Male

When presented with two candidates for a bar job, Mine Host will always select the one that has not attended the TAFE bar course.

There is a reason for this. Graduates of the a TAFE college (Technical And Further Education) bar course are almost universally hopless at bar work, furthermore they often have their head in the clouds.

Once, with time on his hands, Mine Host enrolled at a TAFE college, to see what he could learn. He also hoped to learn, on the side, why TAFE graduates were so useless.

The answer came on Day one,

Day One: "Sensitivity to Aboriginal & Islander employees in your workplace". One of the key parts of this very forgettable learning module was how we must all integrate with Aboriginal & Islander people.

However: At one point us "bar & restaurant" course participants were instructed to wait under an awning, lest we inadvertently integrate for a few seconds with the participants of the "bar & restaurant course - for persons of Aboriginal & Islander race" who were entering a nearby building. There was no answer given to the question, why weren't we all in the same class?

Day Two: "Sexual harassment in the workplace". Amongst other things were we taught to not stereotype people by sex, i.e. a girl can be just as good a motor mechanic as a boy, and that a boy can just as easily sew & knit as can a girl.

The only memorable part of this extremely forgettable module was that from that day onward two of the nubile young lady participants turned up every day half-naked, purely so they could be outraged if any of the blokes made an inappropriate remark.

This didn't stop the staring, nor the comments, but there was nothing they could take to the head teacher to get anybody thrown off the course.

Their experiment ended when one of the Islander girls in the class (who inexplicably hadn't been allowed to enroll in the one for "aboriginal & islanders only") offered to thump the two girls if they didn't put some clothes on. Co-incidentally, after that the two girls arrived for class fully dressed. (Co-incidentally, because one of the things we had learned in class was that threats of violence & torture "never" work).

Day Three: How a computer hard drive works, & we were taught to strip one down. Mine Host was fascinated, but was unable to make any connection between this & bar work.

Day Four: Simple arithmetic, but we had to answer in longhand, rather than in digits. (eg, for 20 + 45, we were not allowed to answer: 65. Instead we had to answer: Sixty Five)

Most of the class failed this module.

Day Five: Typing lesson. (Yes, this is a bar & waitressing course!)

Those who could already type would be identified by wandering teachers, who would offer you the chance to "test-out" of the class. You could not ask to take the test, it had to be offered to you.

Two girls beside Mine Host were offered the chance to test out, and were were allowed to leave the class, having "passed" typing.

Mine Host raised a query with the teacher, pointing out that he had looked over the girl's shoulders, typed the same test, had typed it faster than they, but unlike them had not made any errors.

The lady teacher* haughtily informed Mine Host that he was male, therefore it was "ridiculous" to claim he could type as well as girls. Furthermore he had not been offered the test, therefore wasn't eligible to "pass" the typing course.

Thus Mine Host, who had better things to do than spend the next two hours typing out "the cat chased the rat", picked up his notes & pencils and walked out of TAFE college, without bothering to switch off his computer, tidy his workstation, or to resign from the course.

* The same teacher taught Day Two of the course: "Thou shalt not stereotype by sex."

Dead Manager Walking

At a time when Mine Host is away on an extended business trip, the manager of the Diver's Arms has taken several liberties.

1) They have put one of their children on the payroll. As a full time permenant employee.
2) This new employee is getting lots of hours, all of it "soft" hours. That is, manning the reception desk. (i.e. sitting on their backside in shaded air conditioning, lifting nothing heavier than a telephone receiver).
3) This new employee has been housed not in the staff quarters, but in the Premier Suite (3 rooms, fully self-contained, private landscaped garden, secluded private location)

As guest accommodation the Premier Suite attracts a tariff of $280 per night. Multiplied this is $102,200 per year, or @ 63% occupancy (an industry benchmark) is $64,386 per year.

When utilised as staff accommodation the Premier suite attracts a tariff of $0 (zero) per night, which when multiplied is $Zero dollars per year.

Mine Host's views on this matter are quite easy to predict.

He uses an invention known as "the telephone" to contact the manager & firmly but ever-so-civilly suggests that the manager move their offspring to one of the many vacant rooms in the staff quarters.

The conversation ends with the manager promising to "do what they can".

Following Day: The manager telephones Mine Host to announce that the child "refuses to give up" the Premier Suite, thus there is "nothing that can be done" about the situation.....

..... thus putting the matter on course to the inevitable outcome.

The telephone is not the place for continuing this matter. Mine Host savours (without saying aloud) several variants of the phrase "Who is the General Manager of the property?"

When Mine Host returns, there will be a closed door meeting with the manager. The item on the agendum has just been decided for him.

Mugged by Reality (again)

Posting has been light of late. There is a good reason.

Anyone who understands small business will know this reason.

Having social/family plans ruined by unforeseen/unexpected demands of the business is something that happens.

I've just now been able to come up for air.

The nose hit the grindstone just before Christmas.

How Short is Your Memory?

To leave a voicemail message press #1,
To hear this option again press #9

This corker of a voice menu is to be heard if you phone the Queensland Government's Office of State Revenue.

Traditional Solution

All is fine in the bar, things bubbling along nicely, a "middling" atmosphere. That is, a blue could break out, but unlikely to be anything more than one-on-one. Limited chances of an all-in, never mind of a riot.

Then one patron clouts another accross the head with a stubby. (a 375ml, or 13 fl oz, beer bottle)

Result: The clouted one has a nasty gash in his scalp. (Try doing this yourself, a stubby bottle is much harder to break on someone's head than the TV would have you believe.)

In this namby-pamby day and age that event is known in Queensland as a "glassing". A sick joke, perpetrated by our politicians & bureacrats, clearly they've never popped over to Glasgow and discovered for themselves what a "glassing" really is.

There is a lot of blood. Scalps bleed well, especially when the blood is thinned by alcohol.

Clouting this fellow accross the head may not have been the wisest move, as he is much bigger, and much more muscular.

However, the initiator, though a much smaller & more lithe fellow, is a manual labourer. Not a trade union softy from a building site, but a real worker, a deckhand for a fisherman. His muscles, though wiry & small, are hard as steel, and he looks as if he is no stranger to overcoming intense physical hardship.

He will be quite a lot harder to handle than a casual the white-collar uninitiate would imagine.

The big fellow, the victim, quickly forces the issue outside.

So they go at it in the middle of the street. It is a proper barney. It ends with the attacker vanquished, laying in the gutter, a bloodied & pulpy mess, unable to rise.

The victor strolls away. There is blood all over him, some of it his own, some of it not.

The ambulance arrives about here. They carry away the white fellow (the one who started it). The black fellow (the one who was "glassed") refuses ambulance attention & walks away. He'll certainly require a lot of stitches. It is not ever known what medical attention he seeks, if any. Indeed it is not known who he was.

Due to the mass of blood, and the black fellow refusing ambulance attention, nobody notices, remembers or declares that the fight started with a glassing.

It ends as it began, with people drinking in the bar. The white fellow is seen to have "asked for it", there is no sympathy. He'll certainly never look the same again.

This is a good outcome. Had the "G" word been used, Mine Host would have been the subject of an investigation, had a "strike" recorded against his licence, & against his managerial probity.

For in this age of nobody being responsible for their own actions, it is the publican who gets the blame if broken glass is used to hurt someone. It is very expensive for the publican if "glass" is used twice in one year.

You'd have always thought the blame belonged with the person who as an adult makes a conscious decision to break a glass & cut someone.

Stability

To clarify some confusion with the previous post:

Mine Host operates in the private sector of the economy (other sectors of the economy are the corporate and the public sectors). In the private sector a university degree is more or less irrelevant, as people are hired by ability & aptitude.

Typically Mine Host will make a hiring decision during the job interview. A typical job interview for a key appointment lasts Two to Three hours. Sometimes the interview (& corresponding inspection of the job by the applicant) may be spread over a couple of days.

Formal qualifications are a curiosity. Experience is crucial, background a factor, & compatibility with Mine Host & with the current makeup of the business are the deciding factors.

However due the the employment crisis in Australia (there just aren't any staff available) several roles are unfilled. When hiring Australians one is mostly scraping the bottom of the barrel. This leads to changes in the business model & also in recruiting strategy.

The employment laws in Australia are weighted so heavily in favour of the employee that some roles are more or less out of bounds to Australians, as it will be placing the business at too much risk of unjustfiable on-costs by putting bottom-feeders into some roles.

Some jobs require stability, & have to be filled for a minimum of three years to provide the required stability to the role.

There are Two roles in Mine Hosts's organisation that have not attracted an Australian applicant in several years.

Both of these roles are well paid senior positions that pay well & carry a lot of responsibility.

Hence Mine Host has turned to hiring from overseas. This does not necessarily bring competence to the role, but it does bring stability.

Higher Education

University degrees are supposed to mean something.

They are a distillation & condensation of other people's experience. Perhaps many lifetimes of experience, condensed into a few years of learning.

Thus a graduate with a degree is supposed to be already in possession of knowledge that would otherwise take perhaps a decade or two to learn the hard way.

Mine Host is somewhat forgiving of mistakes by the low-paid, particularly if they are his employees.

However he is ruthlessly demanding of those who are degree-qualified.

Especially those who hang out a shingle & charge multi-hundreds of dollars per hour for their expertise.
They are granted little latitude for error. Mine Host is remarkably unforgiving of mistakes made by degree qualified people.

Their degree is supposed to say they are bristling with knowledge & expertise in a certain field. They are supposed to be expert.

Socialist Outcome?

Hmm, judging from the barrage of email & a couple of comments, the previous post wasn't very clear in meaning.


One role in Mine Host's organisation that pretty much requires formal qualifications is that of accountant. An accountant was hired, with a degree from a certain university.

This turned out to be to date one of the bigger hiring mistakes of Mine Host's.

The damage done to Mine Host's image & reputation, not to mention the damage in the internal processes & accountancy software, was beyond parallel.

Mine Host has employed plenty of complete nitwits. However this one was without equal.

That this dud was packing a university degree was incomprehensible.

Mine Host does not accept that this person passed the examinations required to qualify as an accountant.

The blighter was too stupid to post a letter. Mine Host gave them a pile of urgent letters to post (mail is a sensitive area, and the accountant is one of the few people trusted to handle it). A week later the letters were still sitting between the keyboard & the monitor screen.

A bit got said about this, in response the degree qualified person looked up at Mine Host, smiled like an idiot & nodded like a marionette.

The letters remained on the desk a further two days. The idiot wasn't competent to post a letter and responded to most anything by nodding furiously & smiling idiotically.

It is not known who sat the university examinations in this person's place, or if perhaps the pass grade was lowered to accommodate the full-fee paying students. But this person cannot have demonstrated a standard of scholarship sufficient to satisfy the requirements of the accountancy profession.

For heaven't sake they were too stupid to post letters, or answer the phone, or even to place a phone call. They couldn't even be relied upon to place a lunch order.

It took months to fix up the mess. The cost in grey hairs, never mind dollars, was immense.

Yet a professor (Mine Host has this professor's name copied down diligently, in case they ever meet) has put their signature to a piece of parchment to say that this person has satisfied certain academic thresholds. When clearly no such achievement had occurred.

For heaven's sake, the coot couldn't even be depended upon to be able to write their name on a piece of paper.

Such was the scale of the discrepancy between the representation on the degree, & the reality, and such was the loss, inconvenience & damage to Mine Host, that he is now gun shy about hiring anyone with a degree from that university.

Universities have no excuse when they issue a degree under false pretences, the quality of the graduates is the quality of the university.

A quick phone around to a few other employers brought a series of stories that the quality of graduates from this university isn't what it used to be.

A phone call to a family acquaintance who marks papers for this university revealed that they were under pressure to "pass" students regardless of their scholarship standard, & the shame of this was the cause of this acquaintance's impending parting from this university.

Mine Host's money is too hard earned to risk it by dipping his toe in that pond again. "Graduates" of that university will have to look elsewhere for a job. (Or perhaps conceal their dud degree from employers.)

Disqualified from Employment

Due to bitter experience, Mine Host will never employ anyone with a degree from Deakin University.

It is Mine Host's considered opinion, based upon experience, that employing a Deakin University graduate is a gamble no employer can afford to take.

The Many Causes of Disease

The boss is quite ill.

This illness presents him with quite a dilemma: Should he lean over the porcelain throne? Or perch atop it & use it for the intended purpose?

The illness is quite horrid, none who see him would wish to be afflicted so.

The boss' throat is raw, his digestive system is bubbling as if it contained a witch's cauldron, his eyes are bloodshot from the continuous involuntary expunging of fluids & stomach contents. The boss has noticeably lost weight already, he will have lost quite a bit more before the illness has run its course.

Despite his outward exhibitions to the contrary, Mine Host has little sympathy for his subordinate.

For the illness is preventable, very preventable.

What was the cause of this illness? Lack of hygiene? Contact with a "carrier"? Bite from a microbe or mosquito or somesuch, that carried the bug?

No. The illness was actually very easy to prevent. Pretty much caused by failure to apply IQ to a given real-world scenario:

The boss had summoned the cook to the office for a "no-coffee" discussion, which culminated in him sacking the cook, subject to a notice period...
... then being as it was just about lunchtime, the boss instructed the cook to prepare him a hearty meal.

Age of the Internet

Computers arrived long before the internet.

In the mid-late 1990's computers were beginning to appear as playthings in households. A household having one was at this time something to remark upon, but not overly so.

By 1999-2000 it was possible to connect to the internet. However it was a plaything only. Very little could be done on the "internet" besides chatrooms, some personal emailing & reading bit of basic (american) news & suchforth.

The cost of each time you connected, all at the highest trunk call long-distance telephone charge, on a 14k connection, meant the internet was something one didn't connect to more than a couple of times each week.

Mine Host first used email (& thus the interet) for business purposes in 2004. In that year he sent 4 work emails. These were all to the accountant, & were sent purely for the novelty value. It would have been easier & cheaper to either phone or send a fax. It took upwards of 10 minutes to get to the point where an email could be sent. When surfing it could take several minutes load a webpage. Websites that were more than one page just weren't worth bothering with, as the time & money it took to navigate that website would far exceed any benefit.

Any email that had an attachement (containing graphics) would take between 20 & 45 minutes to send/receive. At long distance (trunk call) rates this was too expensive, and presented quite a problem if someone sent you one, as there was no choice but to receive it, if you cut the connection, you'd only have to recieve the attachment at another time.

Even the word "Draft" superimposed diagonally accross each page of a document would be a graphics file of sufficient size to choke the transmission.

Before the internet could become a work tool it had to first become both cheaper & faster than a telephone call.

That did not come to pass until 2005. In that year Mine Host sent several emails, but still they mostly were all to/from only his accountants & solicitors, however they were no longer for novelty value, but were fair dinkum business communications. (This is also the year Mine Host commenced blogging.)

In 2007 the question one asked (or was asked) changed from "Do you have an email address?" to "What is your email address?".

This was the moment when the internet had become a part of business life.

Shortly after this it became law that pubs must have an email address. Many pubs have forgotten this, and probably are unaware of which email address is registered to their name with the state government. Not that it matters, as the state govt has never yet used this email address database to send us all an email!

Also at about this time the major supplier of wine & spirits created an online order form, which a couple of years later was upgraded to fully integrated real-time online ordering. However, to this day the same supplier does not use email for communication with us. It is to this day all done with telephone calls to/from their travelling rep, or to their head office.

All government forms are now downloadable from the internet (we use plenty in the pub trade, I can rattle off the code number of more government forms than I care to mention).

Also we use the internet heavily for research. Now that most things are to be found on the internet that is.

However, for those who accuse Mine Host of being "behind" in his use of the internet, it must be pointed out that what happens in, & is provided to, the major metropolitan areas is not necessarily available in most of this great nation.

And, as a parting stinger to those who say I must use the net "more" for business, it must be pointed out that neither of the two major breweries are enabled for internet interaction with customers. We have to order by hand written order form, faxed in to them, or else place a verbal order over the telephone.

None of the minor suppliers have online ordering. All foodstuffs, cleaning & packaging products, & minor items are ordered by phone or fax.

To clarify: Of the more than One Hundred suppliers with whom Mine Host deals regularly, only One has online ordering facilities, and None use email to communicate with customers.

How can one possibly use the internet more for business, if those with whom one does business will not use it? (Many of them multi-national corporations - one being the world's largest liquor company).

We've struck a Bad'Un 'ere Sarge!

"What are you doing standing the pub doorway checking proof of age as people enter?" barks the 1st year female (& undersized) police officer.

"I'm pub staff, just doing my job" calmly replies the lad in the ironed white shirt & black trousers.

"If you're going to talk like that, I'll arrest you!"

(Oh Gee! I wish she'd say that to me! It'd make my day!)

Hmm......

Greenhorn police constables are the bane of a publican's life.

We show incredible tolerance to them, as they humiliate themselves pretending to be seasoned police officers, not realising their training wheels are comically obvious.

A female police constable has approached the front door of the Wayside Tavern. It is well before midnight. Belligerently she accused the lad at the door of allowing entry to "an obviously intoxicated person". The lad, an apprentice plumber in his day job, looks blankly at the young & diminutive police lady. He has no idea what she is talking about.

"He bounced off the walls of the shop, all the way down the street, he tried to smash the public phone box, you can't have missed him!" (This statement is contradicted by the video evidence from the Wayside Tavern's security cameras. Also the constable lady did not see the man on the street, but is relying on hearsay from a staff member at the next pub.)

"He's inside, but he isn't overly intoxicated, and he didn't attack the public phone box." says the lad. (A statement that is supported by the security camera footage).

This brings an arrogant tirade from the police officer. She roars that this man was "obviously drunk", that he had savagely attacked the phone box, & so forth. (Remember, she is basing this all on hearsay, thus she would be well advised to give equal weight to the word of my lad)

The officer lady, in deep enough already, spits forth some more unwise statements: That Wayside Tavern security staff are "always" absent their posts at critical times, that they are "useless", etc etc.

She cannot possibly have any idea if what she has said is true, as this is her first visit to the Wayside Tavern. We've never seen her before. She's been in town less than 2 weeks, and never before worked night shift.

The next belligerent question is why he is not wearing a "security badge"?

He replies that as he is not a security guard, he is not supposed to wear a security guard badge.

The greenhorn police constable lady then asks why he is there.

He replies that he is Wayside Tavern staff, that he is at work.

It is bad enough so far, but now she makes the statement with which this story began, that in the circumstances is a most unwise threat to make:

"If you're going to get smart, you'll be coming with us!"

(Being at work is not an offence for which one can be arrested.)