62 tyres?

As a lad Mine Host was taught that "real" road trains had 62 tyres on the ground.

Some time back, a basic instinct for numbers told him (without counting) that road trains stopping out the front of the Wayside Cantina were sporting more than 62 tyres. (country boys will all have known this)

Confess now, who else knew there was more than 62 tyres on this road train without counting?

As an aside: The truckies of a certain country beat their chests over a comparitively schoolgirlie "18 wheels" (less than a quarter of a REAL truck). AND they drive on sealed roads. On top of that, they carry cattle in alumunium crates, which shows just HOW easy they have it over there. There is a very good reason one doesn't see aluminium cattle trucks in Oz.

weak mind = no resistance to the bug

At midnight on the 31st of December 1999 all computers were going to shut off, flights would crash, dams would open sluice gates, electricity grids would close down, TV stations would be off the air, & so on and so forth.......

Mine Host got no further with the "millenium bug" than reading newspaper predictions of impending doomsday.

However, in an event that qualifies for "better to be silent and thought a fool than to open your mouth & prove it" a multi-national corporation wrote to Mine Host on the matter of the "millenium bug".

This firm, whose name may or may not have been spelled backwards as "larob" wrote a letter which was more amusing than anything a newspaper saw fit to print!

To this day the letter is filed carefully in Mine Host's office.

Apparently "larob" at some point had put some blokes up at the Wayside Tavern for a few nights, as the letter was addressed to "all suppliers".

The letter demanded the Wayside Tavern "provide details" backed up by "proof" of the steps taken to combat the "millenium bug".

There was a threat in the letter: Larob henceforth would only be dealing with suppliers whose systems were Y2K compliant.

The letter (though carefully preserved) has since languished without reply.

Mine Host has little time for those whose grounding in reality is so deficient that they come out with stuff like this.

Corporations conduct their affairs with an air of gravitas and suits are not as prone as the bogan to rash & stupid statements? It would seem not.

One of these days "lorab" will be back to book some blokes in (choices are limited here).
That will be fun. They've put it in writing that they won't deal with me, ever. Some suit is going to have to eat quite a helping of crow, and eat it in writing.

*vroom*vroom*

Mine Host has always been tickled by the sight of a Perodua "putt-putting" along in traffic.

Remniscent of a Breadbox with Lawnmower wheels!

They look so FUNNY!

Pay up or Else !!!!

One of the more unique events of recent times occurred in the Wayside Tavern car park during broad daylight.

Agents repossed a car.

The saga of the person who thought they could keep the car but not make repayments had reached its unfortunate and inevitable conclusion.

We all watched with an unavoidable vicarious thrill as the agents surrounded, identified, then winched the car onto a tilt-truck.

All in all a very exciting change from the ordinary.

Like all others present, Mine Host presumed that his involvement went no further than furtively observing the events of the repossession through the office window.

A few weeks pass, then comes a letter for Mine Host. Clearly addressed to him, from the finance company which had repossessed the car.

The letter named Mine Host as the defaulter, detailed the amount "still owing", and made a demand for immediate payment of the "amount outstanding".

Mine Host has never had any involvement with this finance company, not as a client, employee, informant, contractor, or supplier.

This finance company bears the name of, and is owned by the instantly recognisable worldwide firm which manufactured the car.

The application & investigation process by a finance company, when granting a personal loan, is not a process in which the identity of the borrower is prone to be overlooked or mistaken.

Thus Mine Host, quite reasonably, is gape-jawed that this firm seems to have forgotten to whom they loaned the money, and from whom they subsequently had to repossess the car.

He is equally mystified as to why this firm then ups & decides to name HIM as the defaulter.

A phone call to the debt recovery hotline listed on the letter brings unanticipated results.

Instead of abject apology, the signatory to the letter (a bone-headed debt collector remember) launches into a fusillade of questions about the actual debtor. Does Mine Host know this person? Does he have any connection to this person? Will you be paying the bill? WHEN will you be paying the oustanding amount? And sir, how could your name have "just got" onto our database? etc etc etc.

Mine Host briefly outlined his belief that the identity, whereabouts & anything else about the debtor was not his concern.

His only concern was the the finance company rectify their error, immediately, in writing.

Due to the intractable nature of the debt collector, the matter will now be handled between Mine Host's preferred law firm and the debt collector's very very high up (& presumably embarrassed) superiors.

The debt recoverer was offered control over the ultimate outcome. He gave away this control.

Some people have a tin ear when it comes to career matters.

They are still down there!

Many years ago, Mine Host's father shot a crocodile in notable circumstances in the bed of a channel in the region of the East Alligator River. Mine Host now possesses two items which show signs of the encounter, the skin of the crocodile, and the rifle.

Mine Host pondered upon this, looking down on the now flooded East Alligator plains. To the east in Arnhem Land there are Buffalo galore, in surprising numbers, however there is little sign of them on the East Alligator plains.

Crocodiles however, are still there in numbers aplenty.

Surreal moment of the journey: At one territory hostelry, Mine Host was served both Camel and Buffalo as "native" dishes.

Going Right? Turn Left! (of course)

Riding in a taxi in Melbourne, Mine Host was puzzled and surprised when instead of taking a right-hand turn, the cabby pulled over to the left, more or less still in the middle of the intersection.

"er... wasn't this supposed to be a RIGHT turn?" queried Mine Host.

The cabby gave a strange look as if to say "That's right, and just WHAT does it look like I am doing?"

Surreptitiously eyeing off the door handle, Mine Host wondered if he wasn't being set up for a mugging, or kidnapping, or heaven knows what.

Just then the lights changed, and the cabby simultaneously floored it & turned hard to the right.

As we shot up the intended street, the cabby (in response to Mine Host's weird look) said:

"You not come-a from Mela-born, rite? That-sa how to make the rite turn some place inna Mela-born"

For the rest of the journey Mine Host contemplated the outcome if an out-of-towner were to be spotted by the police making a normal right hand turn at that intersection.

Queensland Election Outcome (a bit late I know)

The good news from the reelection of the Beattie government?

We get Judy Spence back as police minister!

The bad news from the reelection of the Beattie government?

We get Margaret Keech back as liquor licencing minister.

"Queensland" and "Brisbane" are NOT synonyms

(Perhaps even Antonyms!)

A seemingly universal ignorance of their own country, (geography in particular) is a common trait of Australians.

This is particularly so of that majority of the population located in the south-east between Brisbane and Adelaide.

The bulk of the nation's area is elsewhere.

The following incident could be repeated many times by almost anybody who is located outside a metropolitan area:-

In response to Mine Host's requests for some advice on a technical matter, something which had to be back in operation by that night, but the supplier & his servicemen were all located in Brisbane, thousands of kilometres away, the voice on the phone said:-

"No need to trouble yourself with attempting a repair sir, our servicemen are for that sir, we'll have you back in operation by sundown, stand by & one of our service vans will arrive to fix your problem, we have 2 vans on a short job in Kedron (northside suburb of Brisbane) right now sir, they will be despatched to your job next sir"

"Which suburb are you in sir?"

Just When I think I have Seen it All (part 5)

The quickest way to get yourself thrown out of Wayside Tavern is to relieve your bladder into a pot plant, ashtray, secluded corner of the room, or even just against the wall.

People who relieve themselves in this manner are usually somewhat clandestine about it.

Last night however, was something never before seen by Mine Host.

The entrace to the Wayside Tavern has outside a 10m x 15m slab of concrete, bathed in spotlights, and covered by several surveillance cameras.

People often congregate here to drink & smoke. Some will sneak away to relieve themselves somewhat discreetly.

However never has anyone been known to remove all their clothing and have a leak in the open.

A young man did just this (stripped), relieved himself, dressed again and carried on drinking as if this was normal and acceptable, right in the middle of this open entrance area.

Incredibly both he and his comrades were perplexed at being immediately evicted.

They could not see what he had done to deserve it.

Located near playground!

In comments at Lita's place Miss J has accused Mine Host of being a "wet blanket" for saying something totally minor like the staff at Traders Hotel are aloof (to the point of cold-shouldered haughtiness).

It is very naughty of Miss J to say this, as Mine Host did (try to) talk up the physical luxury of the place.

Theme lighting beneath a translucent basin unit. Soap from a previous hotel visible in washbag, prior to Traders soaps being loaded for later use at home.

Nabbing guest soap from overnight stays means the home stock stands at roughly 5 years supply.

The bathroom is luxurious, with sufficient vacant floor space to set up a fairly good slot car track.

The room is spacious, with a cute oval shaped desk in the middle. The bed is wonderfully soft, however the careful observer will notice that (staff frostiness aside) the place is relegated to mere "clip-joint" status by the lack of a picture on the wall.

This means there is absolutely no hope of an RACQ 5-star rating.

A tantalising glimpse of this playground is visible from the window of the room. A dearth of playgrounds when he was a child causes Mine Host to these days reflect wistfully at sights such as this.
.. And here is the main view:

The Rugged Individuality of the Stockman!

Mine Host was raised, lived and worked as a ringer until the age of 27 before he noticed (to his everlasting delight) that occassionally he unwittingly wore an informal uniform.

These two fellows (pictured) would react with mildly irate disbelief were they to be informed that every day for a week they had worn exactly matching outfits.

The can't-tear-em shirt being sold in only 4 colours:....
Dark Green
Navy Blue
Khaki
Grey
...sometimes resulted in entire stock camps being clad in exact match clothing.

PostScript: A question to sort the hobby farmers from actual Ringers:

What is it about the accoutrements of the ringer on the white horse which indicate he has done little if any scrub riding?

Waiting while the Tractor refuels

This post prompted by Dirk posting from Vietnam.

Many years ago in another era of his life, Mine Host snapped this photo of a tractor parked by the main highway between Saigon and Cambodia.

Think first, before you let the Boss Down

Halfway through mealtime on Saturday night the chef walks casually through the dining area, carrying his tools.

"I'm outta here" he informs Mine Host"I've had enough of this town".

"Can't you at least wait until service is finished? It's not long to go now?"

"Nope, I've had enough of it, can't stand the town, can't stand the people, I'm going now!"

... with freshly abandoned customers to worry about Mine Host pays no more attention to the departing chef.

There are only a few orders to finish off & the cleaning up to do. The grill chef for the night is well able to handle it. No harm done. For tonight.

Going to make things interesting for a few days though.

Later that night the Head Chef phones from the staff quarters: "He means it, I can't talk sense into him, he is going to book himself on the first flight tomorrow!"

Even later the Head Chef phones again: "He can't afford the airfare, it is more than a week's pay, he hasn't any money, he has made a one-week advance purchase, and needs to work the whole week to pay for it"

In the morning the chef ambles in ever so nonchalantly for breakfast, & offhandedly announces to Mine Host that he has decided to "stay on" for a week, to make the transition "easier" for Mine Host.

Mine Host, (who has known this was coming since the moment the chef walked off the job) informs the chef that breakfast is for "staff only" and that the chef had removed himself from the staff the moment he walked off the job mid-shift.

Also, could the chef please have his rooms in the staff quarters vacated and spotless within the hour?

Skills Shortage

Dental appointments require considerable advance notice.

A small piece of tooth broke off yesterday.

The denist used by Mine Host has closed his practice.

Phone calls to other dentists (up to 400km distant) were as thus:

(This is on the 11th of January)

"... certainly sir, our first availalbe appointment slot is in September, which dentist do you normally see?"
"Er... I used to visit Dr. Dedication, but he has closed his practice"
"Oh I see, you are not a patient of ours, I'm sorry we don't take new patients, goodbye"

This conversation could have taken place any time in the past few years.

In the case of a dental emergency, a dentist will usually see a patient within 3 weeks.

Is Australia badly short of dentists? Or are they all laying around near Bondi Beach & the Gold Coast, bleating that there is a "shortage" of patients?

The correct answer is a bit of both. Before he closed, Dr. Dedication answered Mine Host's query as to why, when he was booked out 7 or 8 months in advance, & working all the hours he could, didn't he hire a dentist or two to help him?

He answered that he had grown tired of advertising, had even been offering an equal share of the practice to graduates, ("I can't offer any more than that") and that the other dental practices in town had been doing the same.

What few respondees there were, upon discovering the location of the practice, terminated enquiries immediately, without even enquiring how much it would be possible to earn.

Innumeracy (part 2)

A staff member had borrowed to buy a car. Quite common, most of our society does the same.

The car was to be paid off in weekly installments.

The borrower was very pleased to have a car, and could well afford one.
However, here is where the attitude of the borrower differed from what one would expect.

Very little direct connection was drawn between the convenience of possessing a car & the weekly repayments.

The weekly payments were resented, as they used up money which could be better used (for longer drinking sessions, or getting new tattoos, and so on.)

Not making a payment was tried, this prompted considerable ire from the finance company, leading to an increase in the awe with which the finance company was held.

Some time passed & with it came a subsidence of the awe in which the finance company was held.

Eventually came a week when the borrower spent their meagre pay on "more important" things. Meagre yes, for the borrower was apt to not turn up for work. Work is resented, while wages are not.

The connection between "work" & "pay" is starkly demonstrated each time the borrower fails to turn up for work. This has lead to a grasping of the "no work = no wages" principle. A principle which is resented as equally as the "no payments = no car" principle.

Many tricks have been tried to get around the "no work = no pay" conundrum. None of the alternatives to "working" mangage to produce any actual "wages" and the borrower (resentfully) turns up to work most of the time. This is called "character" (or lack of).

There has however been more success with the "no payments = no car" dilemma.

The week when the borrower spent all their pay on "more imporant" stuff, they apprehensively phoned the finance company to explain (due to lingering memories of the ire apt to be exhibted by the finance company when no payment is forthcoming).

When the finance company learned that the borrower had been quite ill, and had large medical bills "this week" it was remarkably understanding, and allowed the payment to be deferred.

Armed with this new knowledge that payment was not necessary, the borrower underwent a change, suddenly seeing things on the bright side, for a time even turning up to work cheerfully and without prompting.

The finance company, suddenly confronted with a barrage of illnesses, family emergencies, unexpected hardships etc on the part of the borrower, was very understanding and agreed to endless deferrments of payment.

The borrower, thrilled at how easily hoodwinked the finance company was proving to be, embarked on spending the newly released funds. Parties were held, electronic luxury goods were purchased, late night booze-ups became more common, etc etc.

In conversation with the borrower, a concerned co-worker discovered that the borrower had no comprehension that all monies borrowed ultimately must be repaid, and that every skipped payment was adding to the interest bill, and adding to the term of the loan.

"But its a two-year loan, next June I'm finished with the payments, & then they can't do anything to me!" was the cheerful response, demonstrating total ignorance of the concept of debt & repayment.

The borrower still quite often goes about spending the amount of the repayment, making sure to phone the finance company to explain the illness/funeral/sick nephew. (Although this only has to be kept up until "next June")

The notion that the finance company hasn't actually been outsmarted is cheerfully treated with mild scorn.

Innumeracy (part 1)

Two things will send a pub broke in a very short time, and often do.

1) "Mates rates" on grog
2) Lack of diligence on the wage cost.

It is very easy for bar wages to jump from 16% of turnover to 25% of turnover.

At least three times I have ended (or severly hampered) the career of an experienced bar manager.

On each occassion a newly hired or newly promoted bar manager was going to "skin cats" by significantly increasing the bar turnover of the Wayside Tavern.

On each occassion the only achievement of the "cat skinner" was to jump the bar wages to 25% + of gross turnover.

None of them heeded the subsequent "no coffee" discussion in my office about how the bar is not to be awash with staff.

Each of them was mystified when their position was terminated without notice (but with corresponding BLACK spot on their CV) within a few weeks.

Quite possibly they will each go to their grave believing Mine Host to be a fool. For they believed they were "making money" for their employer. How could they get this idea, when revenue was static, but costs had nearly doubled?

Able to Draw Breath? You've Got the Job! (Part 2)

Option: 1) Pay the same wages as the mining industry.

Those who believe in "the market sets the price" would jump to this conclusion.

Mine Host realises that he has to work with market forces, (supply& demand, competitive bidding, blah blah blah)

However, to pay such wages Mine Host would have to drastically increase prices. Would the market pay triple the price for liquor? Particularly take-away beer & rum?

The answer to the above question settles the matter.

Would increasing the wages attract a greater number of job applicants? Some people will not work in a pub no matter what. Anecdotes abound of employers who cannot lure fresh graduates with salaries of $100,000+ and a house/car package.

Would increasing the wages attract applicants who have an aptitude for pub work? Quite possibly some of them would, although Mine Host is loathe to pay mining-size wages to greenhorns while they learn, with no guarantee the greenhorn will stick around to be worth the money they were paid to train.

Got a Pulse? You've Got the Job! (part 1)

Like most employers in regional Australia, the Wayside Tavern has a chronic staff shortage.

The minerals boom, in particular the high wages offered for unskilled work, has drained the labour pool.

The core of the staff are holding the place together, however the pool of people who used to keep pubs (or any business) operating just aren't around anymore.

This is nothing more than the market at work, the mining industry pays more, & expects less, so people go to work there.

The Wayside Tavern has been outbid for staff. This Mine Host can live with. Wages at the Wayside Tavern are already quite high, and exceed what is paid to most Queensland public servants.

The choices faced by Mine Host are:
1/ Pay the same wages as the mining industry.
2/ Do not hire staff.
3/Continue with the current crop of people who are prepared to be employed at the Wayside Tavern.
4/ Find staff from outside the current labour pool.

Can't stop fiddling!

For many years Party Kegs were a service provided by the Wayside Tavern.

Delivery, supply of jugs & glasses (some of which would not be returned) educating the party host in how to pour beer from the keg, etc etc. All involved more effort than was reflected by the price charged.

Provision of Party Kegs is/was common practice for pubs, probably a once-a-year or less service to regular (& nice) customers.

Upon delivery to the customer's address, pub staff would negotiate several hurdles, including the following:
1/Demonstrating how to pour beer from a party keg (if it runs into a cup, it is pouring fine!)
2/Dealing with the misguided insistence from the customer to pack the keg into a bathtub of ice (or something like that).
3/Positioning the gas bottle & regulator where party goers cannot get to them.

The inevitable phone call would come later that night: "Sumfink's rong with the keg!" (For some reason this request for help was always delivered as a statement, NEVER as a question)

Having to leave the pub and attend a problematic party keg in the middle of the evening may seem like not much. However, either the bar has to be left short-staffed for a while, or an extra person rostered on for an entire shift. Neither is a palatable option (financially) for the pub.

"Something wrong with the keg" is almost always one of two things:
1/ The keg is empty.
2/ Someone has needlessly fiddled with the gas regulator.

No matter if the keg is empty, or if it is full, the matter will first have been handled by the party host (or someone else) "having a go" at "fixing" the "problem" by dismantling the tap & fittings.

These will be spread (o-ring by o-ring) accross a lawn in the dark, walked on, etc etc.

Just imagine trying to find some of these bits at midnight in a lawn.

A change of times saw party keg requests becoming less common, & mostly from non-customers, rather than regulars.

The Wayside Tavern always was the only pub in town which was prepared to provide party kegs.

So Mine Host took advantage of the change in the Party Keg customer base, and put up the price of a party keg to where it reflected the cost and inconvenience of providing it, and charged a hefty deposit on the ancillary equipment.

This more or less brought Party Keg sales to the desired level of NIL.

Finally it was happily decided to cease supplying party kegs altogether.

Because even experienced backyard party hosts are unable to:
1/ Order sufficient beer kegs to match the thirst of their guests, and
2/ Can't keep themselves from pulling apart perfectly functional equipment (once they have got a few sherbets under their belt.)

Bright as Pompeii at Midnight

Despite the wall beside the telephone being plastered with written instructions to the contrary, at 11.00pm a barmaid puts a call through to Mine Host's rooms.

The caller is refusing to identify themself, but claims to be a friend of Mine Host.

Too stupid to read the instructions by the phone, the barmaid has no concept that any call where the caller refuses to identify themself is likely to be a prank call, especially when it is near to midnight.

Wondering how soon he can replace the barmaid with another, Mine Host, ruefully thinking "Here we go again...." takes the call.

Prank calls do not worry Mine Host one bit, as they are physically harmless, and most prank callers are so incredibly stupid that with little or no input from Mine Host the caller will outwit themself.

Recognising the voice of Peter Shortcock, a local king-hit merchant who is barred from the premises, Mine Host detects also the sound of others. "Ah, I'm on speakerphone and a whole group of Shortcock's gang are gathered around, probably drunk, to listen to him call me names"

In a bored tone of voice Mine Host fends off attempts by the anonymous caller to obtain permission to enter the Wayside Tavern, & several other feeble efforts to outwit Mine Host.

Finally the voice gets around to asking about a few people who are barred from the Wayside Tavern. Mine Host declines to comment at any names, until the caller mentions "Peter Shortcock". At this Mine Host languidly mentions that the name fits, and that Shortcock is a "wanker" & a "softcock" (both trigger words in the circles in which the local morons mix)

At this the anonymous caller becomes heated & enraged, screams "Nobody calls me a wanker!" before remembering he is anonymous, and attempting a pathetic bland cover-up.

All calls to the Wayside Tavern are traced instantly a connection is made.

Mine Host reports an unwelcome call to Telecom. Three unwelcome calls from the same number and Telecom will write a letter to the subscriber asking them to show cause why the connection should not be terminated.

This is very effective if Shortcock was calling from his parent's house.