In a World of Their Own

As many others besides Mine Host will know, conversation with a police officer (even of high rank) often leads one to the conclusion that an entry requirement to the police is to fail an intelligence test.

For blokes who are supposed to be "trained investigators" quite a number exhibit awareness skills akin to those of a wooden plank.

Mine Host would be wealthy indeed had he a gold bar for each time a police officer of the rank of Sergeant, Senior Sergeant, or Inspector has said to him: "You pubs fill people with grog, then when the punter's pocket is empty of coins you throw them out onto the street, and create a police problem."

It takes a special arrogance, a belief in the superiority and in the infallibility of one's own opinions, and no sense of shame or embarrassment (not to mention crass stupidity) to make such a statement in public.

Mine Host long ago gave away the notion that promotion to Sergeant & above meant an officer had some street smarts & savvy. Actual contact of an official nature with officers ranked Sgt & above put paid to that. Some of them are as dumb as a box of rocks.

In a Constable this is manageable, in a Sgt or Inspector who turns out backward enough to believe the above statement should be a serious policing policy, it can become a tedious problem.

For as anyone who has any dealings with the liquor industry (except it would seem, a whole lot of senior cops) is well aware, as far back as 10 years ago RSA laws (Responsible Service of Alcohol) closed the door on the flimsy claim that such circumstance was the norm.

Chassis lives on, but the Motor is long dead.

Mine Host feels a touch of pride to see in one of Australia's leading museums an exhibit made up entirely of possessions/artifacts of one of his ancestors. Above is an odometer-less business vehicle. Below some household stuff:

Included in the exhibit were quite a lot of photographs, revealing that some of Mine Host's Aunties were among the most good looking sorts in their discrict, perhaps the entire colony.

Know Your Place, Harlot!

New chef is a muslim. Mine Host barely takes any notice of this. As a believer in religious freedom (specifically Mine Host's freedom from ALL religions ALL of the time) Mine Host cares not which carved idols/ethereal spirits his staff pay homage to.

Muslim staff tend to be polite, diligent, ethical and "bat for the team". This one however is of a breed previously not encountered by Mine Host. He is Bangladeshi. Mine Host has long experience only with Indian, Pakistani, homegrown and Turkish muslims (as staff).

This Bangladeshi has a hard-core attitude toward female humans that is straight out of a Saudi Mosque. Sheikh Hillbilly himself in Sydney wouldn't exceed this level of mysogyny.

For the Bangladeshi isn't rude to women, he just plain acts as if they don't exist. Operating with a female kitchenhand (refusal to recognise women doesn't extend to forgoing the fruits of all the mundane work they do) he walks around as if she does not exist.

No matter how heavily encumbered, she must jump out of the way, as he acts like a shunting railway locomotive. Either she moves, or he will roughly shoulder her aside.

Matters continued as so for a few days, until word reached Mine Host.

Mine Host noted the following day's roster had a different kitchen hand, also female, dark skinned and a migrant.

Specifically, a Maori lady from New Zealand.

Neither Mine Host nor anybody else was present when New Chef gave her the inevitable evil glare and (it would have been only an attempted) rough shove out of the way.

New Chef subsequently presented with an unspecified injury of sufficient severity to prevent him from working for a few days, claiming it as a "gym injury" and most anxious that Mine Host not think the injury happened at work.

New Chef is now gracious and polite to ALL females, ALL of the time, and defers readily to their advice on anything and everything. At work in the kitchen, he is almost bowing to any and all kitchenhands, and most visibly does not go anywhere near them nor hamper them in any way as they go about their duties.

On the House! (by law)

A customer knocks off $90 from the Wayside Tavern when the staff are not looking, swifly exiting the premises.

The theft is captured in high resolution digital video format by the camera surveillance system.

The customer denies the offence.

The customer/offender is then advised to pay the $90 to avoid police involvement.

A month passes, no payment is made. Police are called.

The offender then writes a letter (written by a solicitor) admitting nothing, offering to pay $90 as a "goodwill gesture" on the condition Mine Host withdraws the complaint to Police.

$90 is the only currency acceptable to Mine Host. The letter is ignored.

In court the offender pleads guilty, but says he has no memory of the incident as he was "too drunk to know what was happening"

(This contrasts with the video evidence, where he is shown consuming Two glasses of beer in Two hours, reading the newspaper, then furtively glancing left/right before committing the offence.)

The Magistrate imposes a fine of $400.

The court handled the debt to society, but ignored the debt to the Wayside Tavern.

Until the $90 is paid, the offender will be refused admission, for eternity if need be.

The average citizen will try to tell you that Magistrates have brains, perhaps even common sense.
A claim not supported by decisions such as the one above.

*Oink*Oink*

People not turning up to work is the bane of the hospitality industry.

People not turning up to work and blithely expecting to keep their job is one of the amusing anomalies of the hospitality industry.

Actual reasons for not turning up to work:
Too lazy to get out of bed,
Too drunk,
Had a party to go to instead,
Took lots of drugs and didn't wake up in time,
etc etc etc.

Reason given to the boss for not turning up to work: "Sick".

The day after blowing a shift, they all take action to retain their job. Thus Mine Host has quite a collection of "medical certificates" (issued by a tame doctor the day after the no-show for work) stating "an unspecified medical condition"

For staff who live on the job this is more difficult. There are credibility issues if one spends the day exhibiting boisterousness in a hale and hearty manner at home, whilst simultaneously claiming to be too ill to make it downstairs to for work.

The husband of a couple living and working in the pub, a big hearty chap, (Three weeks into the job and fast approaching his "use-by" date - even more faster now) failed to front for work yesterday.

It was as if he had been abducted by aliens, he was absent, his wife knew nothing (or may have known something as some people, and she is one, are inarticulate to the point where they are incapable of giving a straight answer to anything, even if they want to)

Today he appears (having thought first to pop into the handiest GP's surgery) brandishing a medical certificate stating "an unspecified medical condition".

Mine Host, who knows very well when someone is too ill to work, eyeballs him and says "Big strong man like you, bouncing up & down the stairs yesterday and this morning, too crook to work - in a pig's eye!"

Straight-faced and without a hint of guile, he states "I thought I might've had Swine Flu, played it safe & checked"

You couldn't make up stuff like this!

This time next week he won't be on the payroll.

Queen's Birthday

Mine Host breaks with the protocol of this blog & tells a tale that did not happen to him in person:

In 1954 Mine Host's father was in the Army & tasked with Royal Guard duty in Sydney, for the occassion of the Royal visit.

Each day they would follow exactly the same routine:

At 2am they were marched into position along a parade route. They stood in position from 2am, at attention, lining the route until mid-morning/midday/early afternoon when Her Majesty passed by.

Shortly after the motorcade conveying Her Majesty had passed they were dismissed by an officer & were then on leave until 2am the following day. (use one's own imagination to fill in the details of this daily leave)

The first day nobody knew what to expect, so the troopers were armed with a .303, bayonet and Three rounds each, to handle any "attack that may be launched upon Her Majesty".

It was patently obvious the first day that by far the greatest risk Her Majesty faced was being swamped by enthusiastic loyal crowds.

Thus the second & subsequent days the .303 and bayonet remained in the armoury. Instead, dressed in full webbing only, each trooper gripped the belt of the trooper to either side, forming what was (hopefully) an unbreakable khaki chain, in an attempt to keep the adoring crowd from crushing Her Majesty & party.

It is, It was, It holds, It held

No stranger to making statements to police, Mine Host is able to rattle off a statement verbatim, without any need for said statement to be moulded into format by the officer taking the statement.

The police officer taking the statement has only to type fast enough to keep up. This rarely happens. Despite now being able to type, modern police are no faster than the pre-historic police who typed two-fingered.

Recently when making a statement, Mine Host was forced to make more than the usual amount of corrections to his statement.

Mine Host at first did not grasp the problem:
The Constable did not understand the difference between past and present tense. The statement was about an event that happened a considerable time ago, in a business no longer operating, in a premises since demolished.

Thus the statement must be in past tense.

The officer persistently typed the statement in present tense. Mine Host told the Constable that being as today nothing is the same as it was at the time of the event, the statement must be in "past tense".

.....Blank look.....

Oh no! The Constable doesn't even know what "tense" means.

Mine Host gingerly went through the statement correcting tense.

The Constable's spelling was unreliable unless the word was phonetic, reverting in several instances to asking Mine Host to spell the words he was dictating.

One of the qualifications required to be sworn in as an officer in the Queensland Police is to have obtained a university degree.

Mine Host is tending to believe this to be a "claytons" degree, and not one requiring proficiency in the English language.

Yet Mine Host is expected to believe that this person, with such pitiful grasp of their native language, is able to grasp the law.

(Mine Host does not believe that Constables have much of a grasp of the law, or even much grasp of what their job is supposed to be, experience has taught him this)

Dry Exercise

An army camp was on the edge of town, the base for a three-week exercise.

Military Police, equipped with no-nonsense manner and a brutal fish-eyed stare had visited the Wayside Tavern to inform that before, during, and after the exercise no soldiers would be patronising any pubs, breaches of this would be "very serious" for any soldiers who breached this.

At all hours of the day & night various Landrovers and Unimogs drove past the Wayside Tavern, the longing glances of the occupants almost painful to observe.

Three weeks without alcohol, as sacrifices go this isn't much of a hardship.

On a morning like any other, about 8am a landrover rushed into the yard of the Wayside Tavern.

Leaving the engine running, Three Private soldiers alighted, dashed inside fronting the bar in the manner of young children.

"Three VB's please" They beamed.

Ruefully Mine Host explained that it was a very serious offence to sell or supply liquor before trading hours.

Their faces fell. Their risk was great. Having parked in the yard & entered the pub meant their penalty would be just as severe.

Mine Host poured Three schooner sized glasses, placed the glasses on the bar, turned away, still explaining that he could not sell, or supply liquor at that time of day, & besides he was "too busy cleaning & testing the beer lines".

Coins clinking into the Blind Dog was the only sound.

Turning around Mine Host noted that the soldiers were gone and the schooner glasses were empty.

An Army Landrover catapaulted itself from the Hotel yard onto the safety of the street,
Mine Host put the schooner glasses into the dishwasher,
The clock ticked 8am.

Mine Host had seen nothing, sold nothing, supplied nothing.

A bit hot under the collar (postscript to the previous post)

Outside the courtroom, but in the courthouse, the "Financial Controller" of Scam Group Pty Ltd engaged Mine Host in a spot of conversation. He seemed to be of the (erronous) belief that Mine Host was knocked into line by the decision of the Magistrate & was now "seeing sense".

It became clear within about half a second that Mine Host did not believe there had been either a "full" or "fair" hearing in the court. (There often isn't if a Magistrate is involved)

The opening statement of the besuited smart-alec didn't help. "You realise we'll close your account now, standard procedure with anyone who has to be taken to court to own up to their obligations to us"

Mine Host pointed out succinctly that the disputed goods had just turned up unsolicited, that an account (or lack of) had not bothered "you fellers" much at the time the disputed goods were dispatched, that they need not think that court was their idea, as Mine Host would have gladly brought a case against them (in his own town).

This last sentence was quite a shock, & must have been delivered by Mine Host with the "ring of truth" to it, as the besuited spreadsheet jockey was clearly (until that moment) of the belief that Mine Host had been dragged unwillingly into court by Scam Group Pty Ltd.

Mine Host went on to question why he would ever want an account with people who operate in a manner as underhanded as the Scam Group Pty Ltd.

The "Financial Controller" (whatever that is) was quite enraged at this remark, and was well on the way to shaping up to Mine Host. He angrily retorted to Mine Host his displeasure that Mine Host would have even the remotest grounds for questioning either the integrity of Scam Group Pty Ltd, or the decision of the court.

The (extremely fat & toad eyed) telephonist woman tugged at the arm of her boss, quietly urging him to lay off a bit...

.....for she was the one who had made the calls & handled the matter, and she knew very well that no matter what the official position of Scam Group Pty Ltd, that Mine Host was 100% correct in everything he said, and that it would be wise to quit while they were ahead.

It may also have been obvious from Mine Host's eager expression that Mine Host was not averse to the idea of the besuited one taking a swing at him within the walls of the courthouse.

With six NSW police, two security guards, countless lawyers, & miscellaneous others watching, Mine Host would take one helluva hiding, you'd be able to tell that by the way he fell, & how, down on the courthouse carpet, he convulsed with pain.

Impartial Law Applied

Decisions by Magistrates in Australia cannot set legal precedents. Mine Host believes this to be an acknowledgement by the authorities of how ...er.. erratic Magistrates can be.

Online, in discussion groups etc, Mine Host is fed lots of rot about how Magistrates are "impartial" & "bound by law" (& other stuff just as far removed from what actually goes on in a Magistrates courtroom)

When recently in NSW, besides observing preceding cases, Mine Host had the interesting experience of the case in which he was involved.

Mine Host's version of events: Goods (envelopes, pens, etc) arrived unannounced by the boxload at the Wayside Tavern.
Attached to the boxes was a bill for several thousand dollars.

The envelopes & pens were imprinted with an email address, street address, phone number & the name of the Wayside Tavern, Mine Host noted the following weirdness:
The email address was incorrect (info@waysidetavern.com.au). Real email address: waysidetavern@bigpond.com
The street address was the wrong street and the wrong street number.
The name printed: Wayside Tavern & Bistro, (real name: "Wayside Tavern")

Mine Host telephoned the number on the bill, explained that the goods had been delivered in error, & should he send them back? The dispatching company stated coldly that Mine Host had ordered the goods, many months prior to their delivery, and must pay for them.

The dispatching company (clearly experienced in this scam) sent via fax a copy of an order form, with the blanks obviously filled out at their end by automation (not by handwriting), however the name and signature of the "authorised officer to purchase" at the bottom, were most definitely not those of Mine Host.

It was that of a receptionist from some months previously. The name was correct, but the signature did not match the signature on file for that ex-staff member.

Bumping into the ex-staff in the street, Mine Host asked if she could throw any light on the matter? She recalled being telephoned by the company, asked her name, and informed that a fax would be following, as "a previous manager" of the Wayside Tavern had ordered some goods, and that she must "sign off" on the order.

A telephone call accompanied the fax, instructing her to sign the fax and send it back. The fax was an order form already filled out, with her name typed on the bottom.

She ignored the fax, but after repeated phone calls advising her to sign & return the fax, she faxed it back, unsigned. When the company phoned to advise her that she had overlooked signing the fax, she stated that she would not be signing it. She assumed the matter had ended there.

She was most surprised to learn that some months later the goods had arrived, along with a bill, and the order form, purportedly duly signed by her.

When showed the order form she stated the signature was not hers. She subsequently produced an affidavit swearing the signature on the order form was not hers, and attached copies of several documents that did carry her signature, these being driver's licence, passport and the like. The signature on the driver's licence etc was not the same signature as the one on the order form.

An affidavit is sworn on a bible, in front of an impeccable witness, thus carries a lot of weight in a courtroom. The witness was a JP, and the lady swearing the affidavit was also a JP.

This brings us to why Mine Host is way down south in a NSW courtroom, defending a case brought against him for non-payment for "goods ordered".

The company that had sent the goods produced a lot of documents for the court, transcripts of telephone conversations with Mine Host, these transcripts clearly generated from some sort of software which is filled out while the telephone call is in process.

Also transcripts of a telephone call with the receptionist, made months after the order, in which she supposedly admits signing the order form. The format of this transcript is inconsistent with their other transcripts, this one being typed in the manner of the script of a school play, rather than generated by the call centre software... hmmmm....
Also submitted was the signed order form, and typewritten accounts of the saga. Mine Host noted that no officer of Scam company had put their personal signature at the bottom of their written accounts.

Presuming that his sworn affidavit would carry some weight, Mine Host was shocked by what happened next......

The Magistrate asked Mine Host how he had come by the affidavit from the receptionist.
When informed she had agreed to provide it after a chance conversation in the street, the Magistrate grunted "I find that hard to believe".
The Magistrate then went on to note that the signature on the affidavit did not match the signature on the order form provided by the company (er... the very point of the affidavit).

The Magistrate then asked the representative of the company was their written account true? The company piouly replied that what they had written was 100% truth.

The Magistrate then hammered a gavel onto his desk and stated "I find for the plaintiff" (that is, he found in favour of the scam company)

In the next few seconds Mine Host said several things which undoubtedly brought him very close to arrest for contempt of court or somesuch.

The topics covered in his "post-decision impromptu statement" were bigoted remarks about New South Wales in general, an observation that the town we were in was solidly anglo-saxon, and the affidavit may have carried some weight, except it was sworn by a JP who was a black woman, in front of a JP who was chinese.

Mine Host then leaned over the desk to the company representatives, congratulated them on getting a hometown decision, then spat out that the next time they phoned a black girl to sign a document & forged her signature it would not be settled in a "mexican court".

The junior of the two company people, a female telephonist who had placed the calls to the Wayside Tavern, spoke "but we didn't realise she was black".

For those who have spent their life under a cabbage leaf, or have no legal experience, the above statement translates as: "Your version was valid and correct, every word we spoke in court was perjury."

Broad Accent, and Proud of it!

"You do have a foreign accent sir!"

Spoke the sub-continentally accented Australian Public Servant Lady, mentioned in the post below, explaining that the communication difficulties between her & Mine Host were not due to any deficiency in her verbal non-Australian English.

It is true that Mine Host does not possess a SydMelberra composite "New Australian" accent, nor the ridiculous rounded plummy accent of the southern newsreaders & soap actors, nor the proto-New Zealand flattened vowels (just like on commercial TV advertising) coming from the mouth of most of SydMelberra's Australian born population.

His accent is 200% Australian, generic, to be found the length & breadth of this land.

Psst! Is that Bin Laden over there? (Part 2)

The groovy new laws, as described below in (Part 1) are nowhere near as simple to comply with as one would think.

For public servants are involved.

Commonsense would be for Mine Host to simply be issued (by the Office of Gaming Regulation or Aus-Trac) a stack of forms with which to report Big Wins, accompanied by a stern letter instructing Mine Host to report all "Big Wins" or else face big strife.

A simple list of current Gaming Licences would reveal to Aus-Trac who is to be contacted about this new law.

Aus-Trac did use this list to contact Mine Host, but to give a deadline by which the Wayside Tavern had to register ONLINE. This registration was complex, being page after page after page after layer of pages at an Aus-Trac website. There was so much difficulty filling it out that Aus-Trac engaged a team of telephonists to phone to all gaming sites and TALK us through filling in the form. The form was nothing more than an acknowledgement that Mine Host is aware of the new law and intends to comply with it.

Once the form was filled out (along with some acidic observations as to the pointlessness of the form) Mine Host presumed that would be it.

Hahahaha..... Commonwealth Public Service are involved, so dickheadsmanship shall reign supreme.

Shortly afterward Mine Host received yet another telephone call, reminding him that he had to fill out YET ANOTHER complex online form. This next form being to confirm that one has filled out the previous form. (This is not a joke)

Of course, filling out these forms was a frustrating and time consuming experience. Mine Host was unable to see the point of it.

Expressing this to the public servant (unhelpfully a new Australian with severe accent difficuties) Mine Host detected in her a complete and total incomprehension of why Mine Host would consider he had better things to do with his time than fill out forms to say he has filled out another form that he has filled out to say he is aware of a particular law, and why had just this one law been singled out to have forms filled out about it?

Becoming more & more frustrated, Mine Host pointed out that he did not blame the (fresh from the sub-continent) Australian public servant helping him to fill out the form, but that he did blame the Federal Government for inflicting this, this, this.... bulldust.... upon working Australians (ie, upon Mine Host).

A meaningless "cluck-cluck" of fake sympathy from the sub-continental if-you-insist-upon-speaking-in-that-accent-don't-expect-me-to-understand-you-sir Australian Public Servant triggered something in Mine Host.

He pointed out that he DID blame the federal government, and contrary to what the sub-continentally accented Australian Public Servant lady said, Mine Host actually COULD do something about it. He could use his vote, he could speak to his federal member, and most effective, he could influence the regulars.

In particular, Mine Host would be making it plain to all punters that their privacy was being invaded by the federal government, & perhaps they should consider this at voting time.

Mine Host went on to point out that his federal seat was held by the government, but quite marginally, and if every one of his customers changed their vote, the seat may well change hands.

Brief pause:

Then supercharged shock from the sub-continentally accented Australian Public Servant lady:

"You mean...... vote against... KEVIN?"

She could have reacted no more frantically if Mine Host had suggested we privatise the Commonwealth Public Service, or perhaps repatriate all Hindus.

Mine Host (quite reasonably) pointed out that if "Kevin" was going to make laws that caused inconvenience, discomfort, and social embarrassment to the punters of the Wayside Tavern, then "Kevin" could quite reasonably expect those punters to vote against him. If the Wayside Tavern had enough votes to cause a seat to change parties, and the government had a margin of one seat, then this would cause the government to fall. (For "Kevin" to lose government - in language understood by the sub-continentally accented Australian Public Servant lady)

Mine Host had the impression that the sub-continentally accented Australian Public Servant lady had never before encountered a coherently stated calm belief that Kevin should be voted out.

It shocked the living daylights out of her.

Psst! Is that Bin Laden over there? (Part 1)

Recent "Money Laundering" legislation has been a source of amusement and stress (in equal measures) for Mine Host.

Anti-terrorism money tracking measures have brought changes to the pub trade.

If you win more than $10,000 gambling in a pub, the pub must immediately report you to "Aus-Trac" (the name would indicate a machinery dealership, however it is some sort of federal govt anti-money laundering outfit)

If the pub does not immediately report you, the consequences are serious (for the pub, the feds have lots of power).

Aus-Trac is immediately notifed of a win of $>10,000 by the relevant statutory authority. This is either the TAB if you won on the horses, or the Electronic Gaming Monitor if you won on the poker machines.

Once Aus-Trac is thus notified, the pub has a short time span (a couple of days) to lodge an accompanying paper form,
1. Confirming the win,
2. Listing the personal details of the winner, and
3. The signature and printed name of the individual who verified the ID of the winner, and
4. A copy of the ID that the winner presented.

No verifiable ID, no payment. That is the federal law. (The opposite of state law, which says winners must be paid within 24 hours, with no ID required. Federal law trumps state law, I hope)

The punters were unhappy at having to provide verifiable ID, being scared their wives would discover they won more than $10,000 in the pub. Nor do they want the Tax Office to know (gambling winnings are not taxable, but most punters prefer to err on the side of caution)

Pointing out to them that the law now says this form must be filled out, with their ID, blah blah blah, goes straight over their head. However, Mine Hosts directive: "no ID, no payment" was a concept they quickly grasped.

Mine Host is of the belief that if Bin Laden (or other nefarious types) wish to launder some money in Australia, they are unlikely to (A) turn up beyond the Black Stump to do it, and (B) put it on a horse. Betting on the gee-gees being a ...er... most unreliable financial strategy, never mind as a method of washing cash.

450 jobs saved by Mine Host

A topic of recent minor discussions among Wayside Tavern staff has been the announcement that 1850 workers will be retrenched, by the (previously unheard of) corporation Pacific Brands.

Much discussion has focused upon the gross salary of the CEO, on which products of the corporation should perhaps be boycotted, on $17 million provided by the federal govt to Pacific Brands for the purpose of preserving jobs, etc etc etc.

Little to no discussion noted that 7,000 workers still depend upon Pacific Brands for a job, or that this is the only major clothing manufacturer to have not moved completely offshore, and thus preserved any jobs in Australia.

Mine Host, strolling innocently past, was asked for input (not required, as minds had been made up, Pacific Brands deserved to be punished)

With zealotic smirking faces, the collected staff waited for either an affirmation of their anti-Pacific Brands resolve, or for Mine Host to side with the devil and make a comment supportive of the management of Pacific Brands.

Faces fell collectively and an extended silence followed what Mine Host had to say:

By firing 1850 staff, Pacific Brands are not saving 1850 wages, they are saving 1950 wages as the payroll tax on those 1850 is (roughly) the same amount as the wages of 100 workers. (stunned silence from the staff).
Furthermore, Pacific Brands still has 7,000 workers, thus is paying payroll tax equal to another 350 wages.

Total payroll tax paid to state governments by Pacific Brands, the same amount as the wages of 450 workers. (continued stunned silence from staff, and they start to glance at each other)

450 more people could have had a full time job at Pacific Brands, instead the state governments had taken that money away from Pacific Brands.

Continuing his stroll, Mine Host noted that nobody was saying anything.

Snake Sheds Skin, Reemerges as Snake

Queensland once again has a new liquor act. Effective as of the 1st of January 2009.

Not sure what the informal name for this new legislation will be, probably the "Bligh" act, (it replaces the "Goss" act, which replaced the "Joh" act) (Named for the Premiers at the time)

This new act is allegedly the result of two years of consultation with the industry and the public. Like fun it is! There is little sign of any of the suggestions from the public or industry.

Despite an entire two years to get it right, there are some conflicting parts in the act, and some really, really odd stuff. Some stuff hasn't been thought through very well, no surprise to those who have had to observe Premier Bligh in action, thought isn't a strong point.

As can be expected from a Premier who is a wowser, and whose offsider is a zealot/wowser, the act doesn't contain much good news for those whose living has to be made from the liquor industry.

Mine Host's favourite quote from the Premier: "The hotel industry has to pay for what it has done to Qld"
Sort of covers lots of things in one doesn't it? And about not just the liquor industry.

Mine Host notes that he is no longer the holder of a "general" licence, it is now a "commercial" licence. How exciting, lots of new terminology to learn.

The ineptness of the new act kept Mine Host fully occupied for most of the month of January, as even when legislation is badly written (or plain stupid) it will still take your livlihood away if you aren't careful!

hibernation

Had a brief hospital stay for a minor surgery.

Have been instructed by the doc to have all of February off work.
Been busily ignoring that ever since. (Spreadsheet jockeys can work from their bedroom, front verandah, (or the beach, park, wherever) and luckily aren't subject to the same physical fitness requirements as bulldozer drivers, ringers, cops. Work certainly piled up during the week in hospital.

Been saving up some "you couldn't make it up" tales from the pub trade.

Gnash my Teeth!!

Many frustrations exist in this life.

One of the more prevalent frustrations of modern life has come with the expansion of computer/internet/email usage among the general population.

Penetration into the general community of computer/internet useage must be approaching (or even exceeding) the penetration of telephones (pre pocketsized mobiles).

Just as Dorothy's house arrived into the life of the Wicked Witch of the East, so have computers/internet just appeared in the otherwise orderly life of the adult generation.

The bulk of computer/internet users are self-taught. Most people have become proficient in mundane tasks, thus masking their underlying incomprehension of even the simplest technical matters.

Mine Host is constantly amazed when somebody possessing above average intelligence, engineering skill, and problem-sovling abilities, will use interchageably any/all of the following terms:

Computer
Internet
Monitor/Screen
Modem
Email
Bigpond
Wireless (Network)
Windows
Application Software (any)

.... quite difficult when someone has become het up over the (choose any term above) and you're trying to solve it for them over the phone .

What the *bleep*bleep* did you expect me to do?

A council staffer & a contractor entered the Wayside Tavern (during a busy meal trade and without notice) demanding that Mine Host make time to meet with them then & there.

The driveway of the Wayside Tavern was to be dug up & reconcreted (for secret local authority reasons), and that this would have "a temporary impact upon your drive-through trade".

They snorted contemptuously at Mine Host's serious answer to their question of "when would be the most convenient time to do this work?" (Answer: Midnight the day before Good Friday, alternatively Midnight Christmas Eve)

These fellows have reached middle age, yet have had insufficient interaction with the working economy to be able to comprehend that there are people whose business is at work almost every hour of the day, every day of the year.

So removed from reality are these fellows that they assumed Mine Host was jesting.

The contractor (at what he believed was a smart alec remark by Mine Host) became short, and announced that he had "tried to cooperate", he noted Mine Host's statement that Sunday, Monday, Tuesday were the slowest part of the week, that he "would endeavour" to carry out the works during the nominated slow period, and that Wayside Tavern would recieve "one day's notice" of the excavation works.

"After all" explained the council staffer "we all have to share the financial pain of CBD improvements" (He doesn't)

Mine Host agreed that 24 hours notice of a 3 day closure would be plenty of time for him to lay off the staff of the drive-through shop.

The mood changed with whipcrack speed.

For some reason it always happens to this exact same script: Some regulation/bylaw which will hurt a business elicits a smug "oh well, can't be helped" attitude from the public servant who makes the decision, but when this is translated into job losses the smugness is replaced by distinct unease & discomfort.

"You.. er.. can't just DO that you know". (I can) (THIS always happens too, right on script, they go from "impartial" local authority regulator to informal Industrial Relations advocate - which is waaaay outside their letters of marque)

Someone who three seconds before couldn't give a hoot about Mine Host losing money thanks to some directive suddenly becomes almost hotheaded when smacked by the reality that their "impartial" application of this directive has just cost the job of an ordinary worker, and becomes most anxiously concerned that nobody lose their job.

The about face is quite comical. I really should capture it on film one day.

"You force a 3-day closure of their workplace, you force a 3-day closure of their job! It is that simple"

Mine Host then did make a smart alec comment: "We all have to share the financial pain of the improvements to the CBD you know"

Mine Host expects when the excations happen there will now be the utmost consideration given to minimising the impact upon the Wayside Tavern.

Think of it how you may, but Mine Host has saved the pay-packet of staff. As a bonus a pair of stuck-up tin gods have had one put over them.

Man of Fairy Floss.

Mine Host has:
Held an actual job for 4 years (and longer).
Spoken coherently in public without a teleprompter.
Run something, run it successfully.

Thus:
Mine Host recognises an inferior being in the president-elect of the USA. (who has yet to achieve ANY of the above)

Retirement Village?

The road up the east coast....
Mine Host recently had occassion to visit Kuala Terengganu, a city with a population of almost 300,000.
Though the place had nothing like the metropolitan feel or hustle & bustle of Queensland coastal cities with populations less than one third the size.
The place had a sleepy feel and a bustle which would have matched a population of 20,000 or less.

These houses could do with a coat of paint, but note the impeccable condition of the rooftops, in particular the superior valley guttering. These houses are well maintained. This is a place which gets rain.
A couple from Mine Host's town have retired here. (er.. not to one of the houses above, those are not typical of Kuala Terengganu) Happy as larry with their choice, they feel at home here.

An uncommon choice of location for retirement, especially for people whose umpteen generations in Queensland had been spent in the same town.

Perhaps they felt like a fish out of water in Qld. Even the largest established muslim population in Qld isn't all that large. (Newer, immigrant, 2nd generation or convert populations in the big smoke are a different kettle of fish)

In an event remniscent of the catholic/protestant divide of years gone by, the wife of the couple had been prevented from marrying "outside the faith".

In a smallish town there was no escaping what her parents forbade to her. Her beloved from the years of her youth operated a shop directly across the road from the business where she was employed. For the 40+ years of her working life she could see accross, and he back. Her employer of later years would occassionally send her accross to the shop on an errand....

....Without any hint of a late deviation from the path and ultimate destination forced upon them in their youth, one could still see the spark, alive in two people now each a grandparent, the spark of what both their parents had forbidden. He forbidden to marry outside his race, she from marrying outside her faith.

If only their parents could have seen that by the time their children were grandparents the religion/race mixing taboo, unthinkable in the 1950's, would be an irrelevance, that their great-grandchildren intermarry between chinese, malay, ceylonese, japanese and arab without any concept of the frantic social taboo which would have once overshadowed even the suggestion of kids "walking out" together.

The husband of the retired couple, surprisingly for an umpteenth generation Australian, suffered no discrimination or anything for an act which would in another time have had him killed by firing squad. Even in other parts of Australia it would have seen him if not jailed, at the very least shunned by many, sent to Coventry for life.

For in his youth he had journeyed from Australia to Indonesia and joined a "foreign legion" of fighters to oppose Australian and Commonwealth troops during the Konfrontasi.

The "Claret" incursions of the Konfrontasi were grim enough. One can only imagine the outcome if Australian troops, fighting to keep Sabah and Sarawak as Malay territory, had in the aftermath of a contact, made the discovery that one of their opponents, instead of a javanese conscript, was a turncoat white Australian (complete with a Scots name) who had paid his own passage and voluteered to take them on.

Immigration to a new land, with no family ties or reception at the destination, a new way of life, and new language, never to return to where your family has lived for generations, is a step not usually taken in the twilight of one's life.