One of the more misunderstood current affairs topics in Australia at the moment is "poker machine pre commitment".
A proposal by the minority federal government, prompted by one independant politician who holds the balance of power.
Each gambler will have to apply for & be granted a "gambling card", similar to a driver's licence or credit card.
Before commencing gambling, the player will "pre-commit" an amount they are prepared to lose, & their card will not allow them to play beyond that point.
So the theory goes. And so the theory will fall apart in practice.
It will work about as well as a similar system that would limit, say, the number of cigarettes a smoker may purchase.
There will however be quite an impact upon poker machine revenue.
Applying for the gambling card will deter overseas tourists. Carrying around the card (never mind applying for it) will deter the casual/discretionary punter.
The deadline set for introduction of appropriate technology is 2014. There isn't yet a machine developed that will be compliant with the new technology.
It won't be possible to manufacture, ship, & install a replacement machine for every poker machine in the country. Never mind the lead up time to develop a pre-commitment compliant machine.
And it isn't just a matter of developing a new machine. An entirely different machine will have to be developed for each state. For each state has different computer protocols & (insert secret computer jargon here) methods of communication.
Actually a second machine will have to be developed for each state, as in each state the casino protocols & computer communication languages are different from those in pubs/clubs.
Once a machine is developed it isn't a matter of, say, converting a NSW machine to Qld protocols. They have to start development all over again from scratch. This is why a game you will see in NSW does not appear in Qld until a year or so later.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
18 is the right age.
Who are Queensland Police? Someone has asked.
They are the police in the state of Queensland. Each state makes its own laws, and has its own police force. The police officers are "lifers" in their respective forces.
The police are a disciplined, uniformed service, that one is sworn into.
A serving police officer may be posted, or transferred to any police station in the state.
The state is 1,800 miles long, and 1,200 miles wide.
Most police officers join as 18 year olds, direct from high school. Recruiting shortfalls of recent years have led to a portion of the annual recruit intake being older. This is not always received well by those who have joined at 18.
Incredibly, at a public meeting the Station Commander (he joined the force aged 17) in a grave tone of voice told us all what dark times are ahead for the public, now that the force is accepting recruits aged in their 20's.
Most police officers are posted to my town for only a couple of years. This includes the station commander.
The police are answerable to nobody in the community, only to the police hierarchy, run from the capital city, a thousand miles or more away. It is like dealing with any other government department full of lifer public servants.
All the police live together, in their own street behind the police station. Single police live in a barracks, married police in a row of police cottages. Nobody else lives in that street, they all back onto the police station.
I have never seen any other living arrangements for police. Except in towns where they go one step further & live inside a fenced compound, which really exacerbates their "them & us" mentality.
They are the police in the state of Queensland. Each state makes its own laws, and has its own police force. The police officers are "lifers" in their respective forces.
The police are a disciplined, uniformed service, that one is sworn into.
A serving police officer may be posted, or transferred to any police station in the state.
The state is 1,800 miles long, and 1,200 miles wide.
Most police officers join as 18 year olds, direct from high school. Recruiting shortfalls of recent years have led to a portion of the annual recruit intake being older. This is not always received well by those who have joined at 18.
Incredibly, at a public meeting the Station Commander (he joined the force aged 17) in a grave tone of voice told us all what dark times are ahead for the public, now that the force is accepting recruits aged in their 20's.
Most police officers are posted to my town for only a couple of years. This includes the station commander.
The police are answerable to nobody in the community, only to the police hierarchy, run from the capital city, a thousand miles or more away. It is like dealing with any other government department full of lifer public servants.
All the police live together, in their own street behind the police station. Single police live in a barracks, married police in a row of police cottages. Nobody else lives in that street, they all back onto the police station.
I have never seen any other living arrangements for police. Except in towns where they go one step further & live inside a fenced compound, which really exacerbates their "them & us" mentality.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Selling Private Information
"Hey mate, can you gimme her phone number?"We'd hear this at closing time probably 4 times each night. It is spoken in a conspiratorial whisper, as we shove 'em out the back door.
Half the boys who come into the pub are panting over one of the staff, Racquel. Polynesian, and incredibly beautiful, she looks very like Catherine Bell (TV star, was in a show called JAG for years) Except Racquel is 18, very attractive, with a very demure manner. And much much slimmer than Catherine Bell.
She bestows a lovely smile, all the boys think they are in with a chance, that the smile she gives them is more special than the smile she gives to all the others.
But she doesn't give them her phone number, only a sweet smile.
Hence there is always someone asking for her number. Racquel is stunningly beatiful, alluring, etc etc.
Explanations that it is not our policy to give out the private phone numbers of staff are often met with a surreptitious $50 note.....
.... which we slyly pocket, as we scribble a phone number onto the back of a beer coaster.
We get another $50 for the staff party.
The taxi firm gets another call from someone who needs a ride home.
So continues life behind the bar.
Friday, September 16, 2011
You Need More Security
Update: I've actually posted on this subject before. I think the wording of the earlier post was better.
If police are called to a pub, you can almost guarantee that they will make two statements:
"This joint needs more security", and
"You need to close right now".
If some lunatic government ever gives police the power to order a licenced premises closed, then quick as a flash we'll be back to 6pm closing (on a de facto basis)
"Pubs just fill people up with grog, and then when someone's wallet is empty, or the pub can't handle the drunk, they throw them out onto the street & make it a police problem".
I've heard this clueless statement not just from constables, but from officers who have enough experience to know better: Sergeants, and even Station Commanders.
This from people who seemingly are unable to observe & understand the pub trade, yet claim to be trained observers, and affect an ability to solve crime.
The pub trade hasn't have worked that way during the lifetime of most currently serving police, yet the belief is widespread. Actually it never did work that way, as back in the old days, the police made it clear that pubs were on their own if there was any trouble.
If only we could vote for our police.
If police are called to a pub, you can almost guarantee that they will make two statements:
"This joint needs more security", and
"You need to close right now".
If some lunatic government ever gives police the power to order a licenced premises closed, then quick as a flash we'll be back to 6pm closing (on a de facto basis)
"Pubs just fill people up with grog, and then when someone's wallet is empty, or the pub can't handle the drunk, they throw them out onto the street & make it a police problem".
I've heard this clueless statement not just from constables, but from officers who have enough experience to know better: Sergeants, and even Station Commanders.
This from people who seemingly are unable to observe & understand the pub trade, yet claim to be trained observers, and affect an ability to solve crime.
The pub trade hasn't have worked that way during the lifetime of most currently serving police, yet the belief is widespread. Actually it never did work that way, as back in the old days, the police made it clear that pubs were on their own if there was any trouble.
If only we could vote for our police.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Bankruptcy II
There is light on the horizon.
I may be remaining in business.
Not out of the woods yet.
It has been an anxious fortnight.
My situation is not completely unique.
But it is not faced by anybody south of 23 degrees latitude.
Nobody has yet guessed what has gone wrong.
One of the difficulties has been that lobby groups in Canberra refuse to believe what has happened, & state that it is not possible.
The attitude of the Liberal & National parties toward an external threat that may wipe out small businesses, has been utterly disgusting. They couldn't care less.
The attitude & assistance provided by the Australian Labor Party has been first class.
I may be remaining in business.
Not out of the woods yet.
It has been an anxious fortnight.
My situation is not completely unique.
But it is not faced by anybody south of 23 degrees latitude.
Nobody has yet guessed what has gone wrong.
One of the difficulties has been that lobby groups in Canberra refuse to believe what has happened, & state that it is not possible.
The attitude of the Liberal & National parties toward an external threat that may wipe out small businesses, has been utterly disgusting. They couldn't care less.
The attitude & assistance provided by the Australian Labor Party has been first class.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
He wanted some exercise
After a ban of several months, a bloke was readmitted to the pub. He didn't play up that same night, and after a few weeks went by, we started to think he really had grown up.
On this particular evening inside the pub, he king hit a passing stranger, knocking him to the ground. Then exited the premises.
The victim now had a crushed eye socket, he'll require craniofacial surgery.
Ambulance & Police were called.
Two police officers turned up, stood on the footpath having an extended conversation with the attacker. Once inside, the police became nasty at me, as they do, about how the attacker might have gotten into a state where he'd do something like that.
Having had rather enough of clueless constables, I pointed out that the attacker was the fellow they'd spent so much time speaking to outside. Obviously he wasn't in such a state that they'd been able to detect anything amiss, them being trained observers & all.
They'd told him to go home, and so he had. (Walking in a straight line).
He'd only been in the pub an hour. He'd hit the victim because he "felt like hitting somebody".
A couple of weeks later the police went round to the attacker's house & arrested him for the assault.
On this particular evening inside the pub, he king hit a passing stranger, knocking him to the ground. Then exited the premises.
The victim now had a crushed eye socket, he'll require craniofacial surgery.
Ambulance & Police were called.
Two police officers turned up, stood on the footpath having an extended conversation with the attacker. Once inside, the police became nasty at me, as they do, about how the attacker might have gotten into a state where he'd do something like that.
Having had rather enough of clueless constables, I pointed out that the attacker was the fellow they'd spent so much time speaking to outside. Obviously he wasn't in such a state that they'd been able to detect anything amiss, them being trained observers & all.
They'd told him to go home, and so he had. (Walking in a straight line).
He'd only been in the pub an hour. He'd hit the victim because he "felt like hitting somebody".
A couple of weeks later the police went round to the attacker's house & arrested him for the assault.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Not Fat or Ugly
"Hi my name is Joe Blow, im a Qualified chef, im a hard, punctual and reliable worker. Ive been travelling chefing for the last 4 years i can commit for at least 2 years. Please find attached a brief resume for any more information please contact me on 0123456789
I can start this asap. i couldnt find any photos but im australian of australian back ground, not fat, not ugly, nothing wrong with me and you wont have any shocks, im well presented."
It was the 2nd paragraph that got him hired. I've never read anything quite like it in a job application.
I can start this asap. i couldnt find any photos but im australian of australian back ground, not fat, not ugly, nothing wrong with me and you wont have any shocks, im well presented."
It was the 2nd paragraph that got him hired. I've never read anything quite like it in a job application.
Monday, September 12, 2011
M'lud, I was under stress, I was scared I'd be caught.
If I'm tried for murder, I want it to be in front of this judge.
Police turn up to arrest you, you produce a firearm, discharge it several times, stopping only when police officers shoot you down. You have managed to shoot only one police officer.
In court your defence is: "I was scared of being arrested, I only wanted to warn the arresting officers so I could run away, naturally I pulled a gun out & opened up, but I didn't mean to hit any of them, honest!"
Your defence for carrying an illegal concealable firearm is: "I carry a concealable firearm, because I'm afraid of being picked on because of my religion, honest!"
How much indulgence would you expect from a court? Really?
The glaring question: Why did the prosecution agree to a judge only trial? I'm not saying this was a fix, but... er... why not a jury trial?
The facts as I see 'em: Cops came to arrest him, he resisted arrest by starting a gunfight. He shot a policeman, the gunfight ended only when police shot him.
I smell a cock & bull story (who doesn't?) by Mr. Mahmood Yusef (or whatever his name is).
Quite obviously I am too stupid to understand the matter, and were I "in possession of all the facts", like a real smart & sensible judge would be, I would see the matter in a more accurate perspective.
Police turn up to arrest you, you produce a firearm, discharge it several times, stopping only when police officers shoot you down. You have managed to shoot only one police officer.
In court your defence is: "I was scared of being arrested, I only wanted to warn the arresting officers so I could run away, naturally I pulled a gun out & opened up, but I didn't mean to hit any of them, honest!"
Your defence for carrying an illegal concealable firearm is: "I carry a concealable firearm, because I'm afraid of being picked on because of my religion, honest!"
How much indulgence would you expect from a court? Really?
The glaring question: Why did the prosecution agree to a judge only trial? I'm not saying this was a fix, but... er... why not a jury trial?
The facts as I see 'em: Cops came to arrest him, he resisted arrest by starting a gunfight. He shot a policeman, the gunfight ended only when police shot him.
I smell a cock & bull story (who doesn't?) by Mr. Mahmood Yusef (or whatever his name is).
Quite obviously I am too stupid to understand the matter, and were I "in possession of all the facts", like a real smart & sensible judge would be, I would see the matter in a more accurate perspective.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
10 years ago
Very late at night, walking past the boarders lounge, where a few staff & lodgers were watching TV said: "You should have a look at this."
The TV station had cut into programming & was showing an unfolding dramatic event.
Watched for a while, trying to catch up with what was happening, it seemed that airliners had been flown into skyscrapers in New York city. Rather an horrific thought, thriller novel material, that never in your wildest dreams you'd expect to see in real life.
The finer details of New York city don't have much relevance to working stiffs on the opposite side of the world, thus the words "World Trade Centre" didn't mean much to any of us. Big cities are big cities, especially when they are on the other side of the world.
I searched my memory and suggested, (hoping I'd got the name right): "They'll go looking for Osama bin Laden for this." I seemed to recall that he was some sort of shifty Arab type who'd been in the frame for some sort of bombing attack on some US embassies or warships, or something.
Went downstairs & told the staff at work that airliners had been deliberately crashed into skyscrapers in New York. They scoffed at me & flatly refused to switch on the TV, not wanting to be seen falling for a prank.
It seemed to be a big event, but not one of such scale that I'd phone up anyone to tell them about it. Not at that time of night. I woke up my parents, & told them, they were disgruntled at being woken. There are always heavy duty events happening somewhere in the world.
Most people I knew found out when they woke up to it the next morning, by which time it was really big news. And I wished I'd been bold enough to contact them a few hours prior.
Interesting snippet: It was the first time I could remember that anyone had bothered to watch TV at that time of night, or that I had bothered to pay attention to what was on a TV screen.
The TV station had cut into programming & was showing an unfolding dramatic event.
Watched for a while, trying to catch up with what was happening, it seemed that airliners had been flown into skyscrapers in New York city. Rather an horrific thought, thriller novel material, that never in your wildest dreams you'd expect to see in real life.
The finer details of New York city don't have much relevance to working stiffs on the opposite side of the world, thus the words "World Trade Centre" didn't mean much to any of us. Big cities are big cities, especially when they are on the other side of the world.
I searched my memory and suggested, (hoping I'd got the name right): "They'll go looking for Osama bin Laden for this." I seemed to recall that he was some sort of shifty Arab type who'd been in the frame for some sort of bombing attack on some US embassies or warships, or something.
Went downstairs & told the staff at work that airliners had been deliberately crashed into skyscrapers in New York. They scoffed at me & flatly refused to switch on the TV, not wanting to be seen falling for a prank.
It seemed to be a big event, but not one of such scale that I'd phone up anyone to tell them about it. Not at that time of night. I woke up my parents, & told them, they were disgruntled at being woken. There are always heavy duty events happening somewhere in the world.
Most people I knew found out when they woke up to it the next morning, by which time it was really big news. And I wished I'd been bold enough to contact them a few hours prior.
Interesting snippet: It was the first time I could remember that anyone had bothered to watch TV at that time of night, or that I had bothered to pay attention to what was on a TV screen.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
But soap sales wouldn't have declined.
Skepticlawyer, longstanding occassional commenter on this site, one of Mine Host's engaging reads, and noted for her propensity to make blog posts that are 2,000 words long, has posted on manners & broaches upon gentlemen courteously taking "no" for an answer.
The ensuing comments thread mentions an apparently well know case where a lady, one with seemingly no class whatsoever, dates a man & afterward treats him very badly.
I've had the experience of bumping into a few women who turned out to be classless and nowhere near as intelligent as you'd first think. Though they'd see themselves as the opposite, by dint of nothing more than dwelling in inner suburbs, & having been tertiary educated.
Narrow minded & bigoted (they'd see themselves as the opposite) I've had them just plain stop talking to me, for what would be the oddest reasons.
Here's one I lost about 3 seconds of sleep over:
(a) I'm only guessing, but I never heard from this one again after I opined that a "stop the war" rally in Sydney (in 2003 or thereabouts) was a golden opportunity that had been missed: A couple of well sited Vickers guns, several minutes of enfilade firing, and you'd have raised Australia's average IQ. Without having lost one useful citizen.
The rally in question was the one where NSW Premier Bob Carr (an opponent of the war) was attacked by an "anti-war" crowd. My observation had focused subtly upon that point.
I wasn't being contrarian, merely making conversation with one who represented herself as broadminded & able in a highbrow manner to "discuss & dissect" a wide range of current affairs topics. (Yeah, I saw then just how much detached discussion she was capable of.)
She wasn't even polite enough to say goodbye. Actually she didn't say anything, it was only the passage of time that clued me in that she'd cut me dead.
She was a film editor or something like that. Lived in the inner city Sydney suburb of Glebe, or Ultimo.
The ensuing comments thread mentions an apparently well know case where a lady, one with seemingly no class whatsoever, dates a man & afterward treats him very badly.
I've had the experience of bumping into a few women who turned out to be classless and nowhere near as intelligent as you'd first think. Though they'd see themselves as the opposite, by dint of nothing more than dwelling in inner suburbs, & having been tertiary educated.
Narrow minded & bigoted (they'd see themselves as the opposite) I've had them just plain stop talking to me, for what would be the oddest reasons.
Here's one I lost about 3 seconds of sleep over:
(a) I'm only guessing, but I never heard from this one again after I opined that a "stop the war" rally in Sydney (in 2003 or thereabouts) was a golden opportunity that had been missed: A couple of well sited Vickers guns, several minutes of enfilade firing, and you'd have raised Australia's average IQ. Without having lost one useful citizen.
The rally in question was the one where NSW Premier Bob Carr (an opponent of the war) was attacked by an "anti-war" crowd. My observation had focused subtly upon that point.
I wasn't being contrarian, merely making conversation with one who represented herself as broadminded & able in a highbrow manner to "discuss & dissect" a wide range of current affairs topics. (Yeah, I saw then just how much detached discussion she was capable of.)
She wasn't even polite enough to say goodbye. Actually she didn't say anything, it was only the passage of time that clued me in that she'd cut me dead.
She was a film editor or something like that. Lived in the inner city Sydney suburb of Glebe, or Ultimo.
Friday, September 09, 2011
She Didn't Get the Job
And it wasn't because of the carefully prepared stationery.
Nor that she overlooked her current phone no.
Nor that she overlooked her current phone no.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Free? Still too Expensive!
A special order was received!
Pleased with service from the butcher shop, to show their appreciation a customer wished to send them a carton of beer.
We accepted payment over the phone & delivered to the butcher shop the requested beer (the most popular brand, in bottles, full strength alcohol, "heavies").
Unsmilingly they silently accepted the box of beer.
Later that afternoon we took angry telephone call from the butcher shop, in which they denigrated the brand of beer they had been supplied with, and demanded we replace it with something suitable.
In the name of good customer relations we agreed to swap the beer for another of their preference.
They sneered as they plonked their free carton on our counter & with a curled top lip accepted the replacement box, sourly vocalising their displeasure at the way we had treated them. (Never at any stage did they say "thank you".)
They never bothered to enquire which of their customers had shouted them a carton of beer.
Their response to being given free beer was to bitch about how it hadn't been given to them in an appropriate manner, and how it had ruined their day.
The attitude exhibited above is more common than you'd first think.
Pleased with service from the butcher shop, to show their appreciation a customer wished to send them a carton of beer.
We accepted payment over the phone & delivered to the butcher shop the requested beer (the most popular brand, in bottles, full strength alcohol, "heavies").
Unsmilingly they silently accepted the box of beer.
Later that afternoon we took angry telephone call from the butcher shop, in which they denigrated the brand of beer they had been supplied with, and demanded we replace it with something suitable.
In the name of good customer relations we agreed to swap the beer for another of their preference.
They sneered as they plonked their free carton on our counter & with a curled top lip accepted the replacement box, sourly vocalising their displeasure at the way we had treated them. (Never at any stage did they say "thank you".)
They never bothered to enquire which of their customers had shouted them a carton of beer.
Their response to being given free beer was to bitch about how it hadn't been given to them in an appropriate manner, and how it had ruined their day.
The attitude exhibited above is more common than you'd first think.
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Dead email
The business email has stopped working.
It transpires the email address has been closed.
"It was closed sir, because you requested it be closed."
The email address has irretrievably gone into "quarantine" & will be not be available for Seven years.
Not happy with this, I demand the reinstatement of the email address.
"Sir, all calls to this centre are recorded for coaching & training purposes, your call to request the closing of that email address will have been recorded, if you escalate a complaint that recording will be produced."
I escalate a complaint. No recording is ever produced. (Gee, wonder why not?)
I quite naturally want the scalp of the clerk who killed my email address. However Bigpond (the ISP) are rude & defensive.
Next stop for me: The Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman.
The TIO requests me to first try to sort it out with the person about whom I am complaining.
Hmmm.... (After that)......
The TIO says that since I cannot sort it out with Bigpond, then there is nothing that can be done.
(Why do we bother to fund a Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman?)
You couldn't make it up!
It transpires the email address has been closed.
"It was closed sir, because you requested it be closed."
The email address has irretrievably gone into "quarantine" & will be not be available for Seven years.
Not happy with this, I demand the reinstatement of the email address.
"Sir, all calls to this centre are recorded for coaching & training purposes, your call to request the closing of that email address will have been recorded, if you escalate a complaint that recording will be produced."
I escalate a complaint. No recording is ever produced. (Gee, wonder why not?)
I quite naturally want the scalp of the clerk who killed my email address. However Bigpond (the ISP) are rude & defensive.
Next stop for me: The Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman.
The TIO requests me to first try to sort it out with the person about whom I am complaining.
Hmmm.... (After that)......
The TIO says that since I cannot sort it out with Bigpond, then there is nothing that can be done.
(Why do we bother to fund a Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman?)
You couldn't make it up!
Monday, September 05, 2011
the Head Start Protocol
A girl is bleeding all over the place.
Busted nose & lips.
The woman who did the damage to her face is now threatening to grind a broken beer glass into that same face.
It is after midnight. Several hundred are in the bar.
Guards restrain the assailant before the glassing can occur. The injured girl wishes to press charges.
The police are telephoned and advised of the incident.
"Mate, there's only two of us working tonight, can you ask the offender her name? We can't handle something like that, just toss her out onto the street & we'll get around to her sometime in the next few days. Don't let her back in tonight!"
(How much head start do the cops want to give 'em?)
So guards evict the assailant. The victim goes to hospital.
I am just waiting to unload onto the first: journalist, police officer, liquor licencing inspector, or politician who suggests the reason our youth are bashing each other senseless is that I have been "Failing to practise Responsible Service of Alcohol."
Busted nose & lips.
The woman who did the damage to her face is now threatening to grind a broken beer glass into that same face.
It is after midnight. Several hundred are in the bar.
Guards restrain the assailant before the glassing can occur. The injured girl wishes to press charges.
The police are telephoned and advised of the incident.
"Mate, there's only two of us working tonight, can you ask the offender her name? We can't handle something like that, just toss her out onto the street & we'll get around to her sometime in the next few days. Don't let her back in tonight!"
(How much head start do the cops want to give 'em?)
So guards evict the assailant. The victim goes to hospital.
I am just waiting to unload onto the first: journalist, police officer, liquor licencing inspector, or politician who suggests the reason our youth are bashing each other senseless is that I have been "Failing to practise Responsible Service of Alcohol."
Friday, September 02, 2011
Bankruptcy
Update: No, the Carbon Commissioner has not given me the grandaddy of all fines for overgassing the beer. (Think again, funny person who emailed that)
Update 2: No, I'm not being shut down for encouraging hate speech after someone was overheard mumbling "Gillard's gotta go!" into their beer. (Gillard is the name of the [current] Prime Minister)
Update 3: On a serious note, it has nothing to do with any government agency. In fact both state & federal Labor Party politicians have been of invaluable help.
If one is to be bankrupted, it is always imagined there will be a tangible reason, & a person to blame.
E.g. You have made a rash decision, & can blame only yourself. Or you have a low down mongrel for a bank manager, & thus have someone you can seethe over & plan to shoot or something.
Either way, you could expect to have lots of warning, i.e. to be trading poorly for a while beforehand, or be having difficulties meeting bank committments etc.
It never entered my head that it could pop out of nowhere, that you could be trading profitably, looking to expand, everything going fine. Then *pop* along comes an event that you never imagined would happen to anybody. There is no person to blame, no rash decision been made.
The spectre of bankruptcy is looming, I won't be sleeping much for many days.
Anyone who can guess what it is that has caused such trouble will be allowed to pretend that they have open slather in my wine cellar (no actual access allowed, as by then the bank will likely possess it.)
Remember, there is no person responsible, and it could happen to anybody who has their business tied up in a tangible compact asset (like a pub).
It is not even an event (like a natural disaster, or closure of a nearby military base full of customers) & realisation of it crept up in only a few short days beforehand.
When I finally tell you all (coz nobody will guess it) you'll never imagine it could have happened the way it did.
Update 2: No, I'm not being shut down for encouraging hate speech after someone was overheard mumbling "Gillard's gotta go!" into their beer. (Gillard is the name of the [current] Prime Minister)
Update 3: On a serious note, it has nothing to do with any government agency. In fact both state & federal Labor Party politicians have been of invaluable help.
If one is to be bankrupted, it is always imagined there will be a tangible reason, & a person to blame.
E.g. You have made a rash decision, & can blame only yourself. Or you have a low down mongrel for a bank manager, & thus have someone you can seethe over & plan to shoot or something.
Either way, you could expect to have lots of warning, i.e. to be trading poorly for a while beforehand, or be having difficulties meeting bank committments etc.
It never entered my head that it could pop out of nowhere, that you could be trading profitably, looking to expand, everything going fine. Then *pop* along comes an event that you never imagined would happen to anybody. There is no person to blame, no rash decision been made.
The spectre of bankruptcy is looming, I won't be sleeping much for many days.
Anyone who can guess what it is that has caused such trouble will be allowed to pretend that they have open slather in my wine cellar (no actual access allowed, as by then the bank will likely possess it.)
Remember, there is no person responsible, and it could happen to anybody who has their business tied up in a tangible compact asset (like a pub).
It is not even an event (like a natural disaster, or closure of a nearby military base full of customers) & realisation of it crept up in only a few short days beforehand.
When I finally tell you all (coz nobody will guess it) you'll never imagine it could have happened the way it did.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Romeo Alpha Papa Echo
Guards have intervened to halt a suspected rape. (see previous post)
This is serious stuff, thus the police are telephoned. The call is diverted to a regional city "Yes sir, not much we can do, there is only one car 'on' in your town, & they are dealing with no end of skirmishes elsewhere"
The police officer hasn't absorbed what was reported to her. I try again. It seems to not soak in. I speak carefully & clearly into the telephone:
"Romeo Alpha Papa Echo, I say again, Romeo Alpha Papa Echo, in progress, Wayside Tavern."
Half an hour later the police car arrives.
Meantime guards have secured the male alleged perpetrator, assisted him to dress, & accompanied him to the hotel office.
For half an hour an obviously distressed young man sits in the office gossiping, smoking furiously, gulping down tea. The reason why he is there is not discussed.
Then police arrive & take him away.
The female victim has by this time got dressed. She arrives at the hotel office, to discover that her 'friend' has been taken to the police station.
She is in an advanced state of intoxication. She is adamant that she has not been raped. She sits in the hotel office, gossiping, smoking furiously, gulping down tea. The reason why she is there is all she can talk about.
She cannot imagine why the police have arrested her boyfriend. However, arrest is a serious thing, & not so easily undone.
Rape is serious, the detectives were woken. One arrives at the Wayside Tavern. He has spoken to the male prisoner, & wishes to interview the female alleged victim.
Upon seeing the alleged victim, the detective arches his eyebrows at Mine Host. Clearly the woman is much too intoxicated to interview.
However, pragmatism reigns supreme. It is a busy Saturday night. If the police can release the prisoner, they can get back out on patrol.
The woman is taken accross to the police station, where she makes a statement. (The state she was in she'd have done well to be able to sign her name.)
As a result of that statement her 'friend' is tossed out of the police station. The matter is ended. The two police on roster get straight back out on patrol.
Every law has a time when it must be ignored.
Tonight that was: "Police must not take formal statements from persons who are incoherent."
And for those who are observant, we also ignored: "Thou shalt not smoke inside a pub".
This is serious stuff, thus the police are telephoned. The call is diverted to a regional city "Yes sir, not much we can do, there is only one car 'on' in your town, & they are dealing with no end of skirmishes elsewhere"
The police officer hasn't absorbed what was reported to her. I try again. It seems to not soak in. I speak carefully & clearly into the telephone:
"Romeo Alpha Papa Echo, I say again, Romeo Alpha Papa Echo, in progress, Wayside Tavern."
Half an hour later the police car arrives.
Meantime guards have secured the male alleged perpetrator, assisted him to dress, & accompanied him to the hotel office.
For half an hour an obviously distressed young man sits in the office gossiping, smoking furiously, gulping down tea. The reason why he is there is not discussed.
Then police arrive & take him away.
The female victim has by this time got dressed. She arrives at the hotel office, to discover that her 'friend' has been taken to the police station.
She is in an advanced state of intoxication. She is adamant that she has not been raped. She sits in the hotel office, gossiping, smoking furiously, gulping down tea. The reason why she is there is all she can talk about.
She cannot imagine why the police have arrested her boyfriend. However, arrest is a serious thing, & not so easily undone.
Rape is serious, the detectives were woken. One arrives at the Wayside Tavern. He has spoken to the male prisoner, & wishes to interview the female alleged victim.
Upon seeing the alleged victim, the detective arches his eyebrows at Mine Host. Clearly the woman is much too intoxicated to interview.
However, pragmatism reigns supreme. It is a busy Saturday night. If the police can release the prisoner, they can get back out on patrol.
The woman is taken accross to the police station, where she makes a statement. (The state she was in she'd have done well to be able to sign her name.)
As a result of that statement her 'friend' is tossed out of the police station. The matter is ended. The two police on roster get straight back out on patrol.
Every law has a time when it must be ignored.
Tonight that was: "Police must not take formal statements from persons who are incoherent."
And for those who are observant, we also ignored: "Thou shalt not smoke inside a pub".
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The Unsung Working Man
"Rape" is screamed.
Later, nobody can say who screamed. It is after midnight. There were more than 500 people in the bar.
The rape is apparently in progress inside the Gents. Guards attempt to force their way in, as the door is blocked. This reinforces the belief that a rape is in progress.
Inside they find that one cubicle is locked. There is something not quite right about what is happening inside it.
More than one person is in there, at least one is female. When guards make entry they find a male & a female, "at it."
Both have taken all their clothes off. This is diverging from conduct associated with a rape.
The guard who made entry to the cubicle is on his own, except for the ..er...pair who were already in there. (Must have been rather cosy with the three of them.)
Half-a-dozen males attack the guard & attempt to enter the cubicle to "get the rapist." The guard fights them off.
Then another half dozen males attack the guard & attempt to enter the cubicle to "rescue their mate."
The guard is punched & kicked aplenty, his cries for help cannot be heard. He's backed into the cubicle, with the amorous/rapist pair squeezed behind him. Otherwise he'd have no chance.
All the while there is an endless crowd of males coming & going to use the toilet facilities. They dodge around the brawl. (Yes, it really does happen like that.)
The Guard knows there will be no "Hotel guard intervenes to save rape victim" headline. There never is. These blokes put in some heroic efforts, receiving little but sneering from the press & the authorities for their trouble.
These blokes are middle-aged working stiffs, putting in late shifts as guards to pay mortgage, put food on table, send kids to uni, or perhaps pay maintenance. They take seriously their responsibility to keep patrons & premises safe. Salt-of-the-earth.
(Pumped up young ethnic types, with Robert De Niro accents, bulging gym rat arms, carefully oiled skin, trimmed eyebrows & metrosexually moisturised face? You'll only find those down in the big smoke, usually at CBD venues.)
Afterward the guards prowl the venue, grabbing & tossing out those who had attacked the lone guard in the gents. They throw out about twenty males. In a most unceremonious fashion.
Later, nobody can say who screamed. It is after midnight. There were more than 500 people in the bar.
The rape is apparently in progress inside the Gents. Guards attempt to force their way in, as the door is blocked. This reinforces the belief that a rape is in progress.
Inside they find that one cubicle is locked. There is something not quite right about what is happening inside it.
More than one person is in there, at least one is female. When guards make entry they find a male & a female, "at it."
Both have taken all their clothes off. This is diverging from conduct associated with a rape.
The guard who made entry to the cubicle is on his own, except for the ..er...pair who were already in there. (Must have been rather cosy with the three of them.)
Half-a-dozen males attack the guard & attempt to enter the cubicle to "get the rapist." The guard fights them off.
Then another half dozen males attack the guard & attempt to enter the cubicle to "rescue their mate."
The guard is punched & kicked aplenty, his cries for help cannot be heard. He's backed into the cubicle, with the amorous/rapist pair squeezed behind him. Otherwise he'd have no chance.
All the while there is an endless crowd of males coming & going to use the toilet facilities. They dodge around the brawl. (Yes, it really does happen like that.)
The Guard knows there will be no "Hotel guard intervenes to save rape victim" headline. There never is. These blokes put in some heroic efforts, receiving little but sneering from the press & the authorities for their trouble.
These blokes are middle-aged working stiffs, putting in late shifts as guards to pay mortgage, put food on table, send kids to uni, or perhaps pay maintenance. They take seriously their responsibility to keep patrons & premises safe. Salt-of-the-earth.
(Pumped up young ethnic types, with Robert De Niro accents, bulging gym rat arms, carefully oiled skin, trimmed eyebrows & metrosexually moisturised face? You'll only find those down in the big smoke, usually at CBD venues.)
Afterward the guards prowl the venue, grabbing & tossing out those who had attacked the lone guard in the gents. They throw out about twenty males. In a most unceremonious fashion.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Unwavering Gaze
This photo is of the interrogation of a Kempetai (Japanese equivalent of Gestapo) Non-Com.The photo is taken just after the war. Interrogating is an officer in the Royal Australian Air Force. The fellow on the right is an American Soldier, there to translate.
The Japanese soldier had been posted to the Kempetai in Sandakan.
Those reading this who know their history will have just had an adrenalin shot into their veins, as they understand what this interrogation is.
The Japanese prisoner has a "Who, me?" look on his face. I've seen that look a thousand times. It is used by every lowlife unsophisticate who is caught.
Sandakan Prisoner-of-War camp contained Allied (mostly Australian) & Indonesian personnel. Six Thousand prisoners in total. It was the starting point of what is known as the Sandakan Death March. All the prisoners in Sandakan camp were marched to another camp. It matters not where the other camp was, as none made there alive.
Of the circa Six Thousand in Sandakan p.o.w. camp, only Six Australian soldiers survived the war. By escaping during the death march.
Which brings us to the Fourth fellow in the photo. The one holding the Owen gun. The one whose task it is to guard the prisoner. A task he is conducting with a grim determined resolve.
One look tells you he is an Australian soldier. His dress, his armament, the angle of his slouch hat, and the way he carries himself.
And the set of his mouth. The iron expression on his face.
He knows very well who his prisoner is.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Chequebook Security Procedures
"What procedures do you have in place to ensure your cheques are written only by authorised people?" Sneered the "Business Banking Relationship Officer" from the bank.
My reply:
"An expectation that your bank will not issue my chequebooks to strangers."
Not much he could say to that.
The bank had issued Six Hundred of my cheques to people who are not signatories to the account. Of these circa Sixty were written & presented by the time I detected something amiss.
The phone conversation was a rather "hot" one.
My reply:
"An expectation that your bank will not issue my chequebooks to strangers."
Not much he could say to that.
The bank had issued Six Hundred of my cheques to people who are not signatories to the account. Of these circa Sixty were written & presented by the time I detected something amiss.
The phone conversation was a rather "hot" one.
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