A recent applicant for an apprentice management (restaurant supervisor) position was most eager when telephoned by Mine Host.
Working in the Pilbara, the applicant was a chef, keen to learn new skills & "move into management" (Gee, don't we hear that a lot!)
The job ad clearly listed the salary offered, the duties, & the location.
The applicant was fine with all of this, as he was "sick of" the Pilbara (no trees & very hot) & was looking forward to a coastal Qld location.
So Mine Host emailed a letter of offer, which pretty much matched the job advertisment.
The candidate immediately replied that "your offer does not interest me".
Struggling with this sudden reversal, Mine Host immediately telephoned and enquired why was this?
"I am getting $95,000 per year as a chef in the Pilbara, while your offer is $45,000 so it doesn't interest me."
Biting his tongue Mine Host politely thanked the applicant & ended the call.
For heaven's sake! The salary was in the headline of the job ad.
He expects $95,000 per year + full keep + 8 weeks holiday? (His current package) in an apprentice position for which he doesn't have the skill set? He expects Hardship & Remote Area pay for the Qld coast?
Mine Host's forecast: The fellow will be a chef in the Pilbara for a long time. He's less than 10 years off retirement, so may never again work elsewhere.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Snitching on your Clients
Epic floods in January disrupted much of the state.
A Six-Monthly inspection of the fire extinguishers in the Wayside Tavern occurs every January & July. This is performed by a company named, known here by the uncrackable code name of say, Hubbc.
Due to the scale of disruption wrought by flood, the January Fire Extinguisher inspection did not happen.
In February the Fire Brigade notified 7 days in advance (as they are legally bound to do) that a "Fire Safety Inspection" of the Wayside Tavern would be conducted.
It was at this point that the assistant manager noticed that the fire extinguishers hadn't had their 6-monthly "tagging" done.
A phone call to Hubbc, who said they'd been flood damaged & unable to conduct a lot of their January inspections on time, but they were working frantically to catch up. The day before the scheduled Fire Safety Inspection they sent someone around to inspect & tag all the fire extinguishers.
At the appointed time the following day the Wayside Tavern was ready, all paperwork up to date, all fire extinguishers tagged (just in time), everybody waiting for the Fire Brigade.
The Fire Inspector never showed up.
Zero follow-up communication has been received from the Fire Brigade.
The Fire Safety Inspector is a clerical appointment. He has never fought a fire. He has never held a job in a proactive field, only ever in regulatory reactive fields, say writing tickets for non-compliance of Fire Regulations. He is no asset to the community.
He is from the same mould as parking inspectors.
And someone in Hubbc leaks to him.
A Six-Monthly inspection of the fire extinguishers in the Wayside Tavern occurs every January & July. This is performed by a company named, known here by the uncrackable code name of say, Hubbc.
Due to the scale of disruption wrought by flood, the January Fire Extinguisher inspection did not happen.
In February the Fire Brigade notified 7 days in advance (as they are legally bound to do) that a "Fire Safety Inspection" of the Wayside Tavern would be conducted.
It was at this point that the assistant manager noticed that the fire extinguishers hadn't had their 6-monthly "tagging" done.
A phone call to Hubbc, who said they'd been flood damaged & unable to conduct a lot of their January inspections on time, but they were working frantically to catch up. The day before the scheduled Fire Safety Inspection they sent someone around to inspect & tag all the fire extinguishers.
At the appointed time the following day the Wayside Tavern was ready, all paperwork up to date, all fire extinguishers tagged (just in time), everybody waiting for the Fire Brigade.
The Fire Inspector never showed up.
Zero follow-up communication has been received from the Fire Brigade.
The Fire Safety Inspector is a clerical appointment. He has never fought a fire. He has never held a job in a proactive field, only ever in regulatory reactive fields, say writing tickets for non-compliance of Fire Regulations. He is no asset to the community.
He is from the same mould as parking inspectors.
And someone in Hubbc leaks to him.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
It has started Again
Industrial Relations Laws took a retro step a year or so ago. The "Fair Work Act" was voted into being.
Mine Host is now experiencing his first "Unfair Dismissal" claim of the Orwellian-named Fair Work Act.
We'll see how things pan out. Both of Mine Host's experiences of being a victim under the previous Unfair Dismissal legislation were bitterly unfair experiences.
Mine Host at this moment appreciates how the mafia came into being. They filled an essential need.
Mine Host is now experiencing his first "Unfair Dismissal" claim of the Orwellian-named Fair Work Act.
We'll see how things pan out. Both of Mine Host's experiences of being a victim under the previous Unfair Dismissal legislation were bitterly unfair experiences.
Mine Host at this moment appreciates how the mafia came into being. They filled an essential need.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Fashionable Lady
This photo of a lady from one of those overseas (foreign) countries is published here to contrast with a well dressed & alluring photo (her own press release, by golly) published on Musings, by Kae, one of the better weblogs read by Mine Host.
This other photo of the same lady is a split screen (Mine Host couldn't be bothered snipping the other half off). This mock-up poster is perhaps created by a supporter of the other (better dressed lady). She is actually the predecessor of the sloppily dressed one. Or perhaps it was created by a comedian (some public figures really leave themselves wide open to lampooning).
This other photo of the same lady is a split screen (Mine Host couldn't be bothered snipping the other half off). This mock-up poster is perhaps created by a supporter of the other (better dressed lady). She is actually the predecessor of the sloppily dressed one. Or perhaps it was created by a comedian (some public figures really leave themselves wide open to lampooning).For a side bet, does anyone know if the better dressed lady ever allowed herself to appear in public looking & acting like a slob?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Nagoya, who'd you ever know in such a big City?
(Gratituous snapshot of Nagoya Castle - Proud of this photo, Mine Host had it blown up to poster size, printed on photographic paper & kept it on his wall for years.)
Dinner hour has come & gone. The bar is full of Japanese youth. A most unusual sight in these parts. They seem to be a group, led by a well built fit & burly Australian.
A demonstration of baton twirling was bunged on, & a student detailed to escort Mine Host around the school.
Dinner hour has come & gone. The bar is full of Japanese youth. A most unusual sight in these parts. They seem to be a group, led by a well built fit & burly Australian.Mine Host engages the Australian in conversation, who reveals that the group is a Rugby Union tour, from a university in the city of Nagoya.
Conversation with the Australian coach/tour leader is peppered with bursts of Japanese language as the coach answers queries from team members, or gives running commentaries/explanations to the group at large.
Conversation with the Australian coach/tour leader is peppered with bursts of Japanese language as the coach answers queries from team members, or gives running commentaries/explanations to the group at large.
It transpires the Australian is a lecturer at the university in Nagoya, has been there many years, & has made a life there.
Mine Host remembers Nagoya, scene of some of his youthful exploits. The Australian-teaching-at-uni-in-Nagoya is garrolous, cheerful, & good conversation, though Mine Host is tempted to mention his own visit to Nagoya.
... Particularly the most culturally memorable part. He visited (at the invitation of the Headmaster) to a private school, Shukutoku girls high school. The visit was accompanied by much surprised gasping by the students & staff.
Apparently boys never visit to Shukutoku. Mine Host has never been (before or since) the object of such unbridled curiosity, or treated as such an honoured guest.
A demonstration of baton twirling was bunged on, & a student detailed to escort Mine Host around the school. Mine Host, who had never seen (before or since) an inner city school, marvelled at the dearth of open space, dirt (where do the girls play?) & the high rise buildings. The final photo is of the adjacent Shukutoku University.
Ahh... finally people who would be able to appreciate what it meant for a boy to enter a Private Girls School in Japan. ("So What? You visited a High School, is that supposed to impress someone?" is the response most Australians give)
However Mine Host did not regale the tale, fearing it would get some polite nods & feigned interest. Nagoya is a big city. The group finished their drinks & went to bed, their bus left early in the morning.
Two days later an article in the local paper caught Mine Host's eye:
Rugby Union team visits from Japan. Overnighting in town recently, from Nagoya in Japan, was the Rugby Union team of Shukutoku University......... (etc etc)
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Some shall be More equal than others
It is reputed that guests, especially celebrity guests, are apt on occassion to make to their hotel some very unorthodox requests.
Mine Host had never encountered this.
Occassional celebrities stay, enough of them that it isn't a talking point. (i.e. there is no gushing of: "Guess who was staying in-house here & checked out just this morning.....?)
Politicians are even more regular. Many Ministers know Mine Host by first name, (nobody has ever asked Mine Host's surname)
Recently Mine Host experienced his first unusual request from a public figure:
Politicians of all levels & all stripes are regular guests of Mine Host's top class hostelry, guess which party (or side of politics) this one is.
The offspring of a professional politician, who at a young age inherited the seat (& fast track to ministry) from their parent.
Some ministerial staff will double or triple check booking arrangements. For higher level public figures protection teams will make advance visits to scout out the premises, for lower level protected politicians phone calls & floor plans suffice.
However for a simple short stay, the staff of this minister made countless phone calls, emails, faxes, etc. All seeking endless verbal reassurance of just the one request:
That due to the Minister's station in life & high rank, the minister must be accommodated in a room on a higher floor than the floor where accompanying staff are booked, and that the staff would be in rooms directly below the Minister's room.
George Orwell's "Animal Farm" has a chapter where the Pigs start walking on their hind legs only. Mine Host has a very clear mental image of this, formed in his childhood when he first read the novel. This image, complete with colour, motion & sound, replays in his head on endless loop whenever this particular Minister's name is heard.
Mine Host had never encountered this.
Occassional celebrities stay, enough of them that it isn't a talking point. (i.e. there is no gushing of: "Guess who was staying in-house here & checked out just this morning.....?)
Politicians are even more regular. Many Ministers know Mine Host by first name, (nobody has ever asked Mine Host's surname)
Recently Mine Host experienced his first unusual request from a public figure:
Politicians of all levels & all stripes are regular guests of Mine Host's top class hostelry, guess which party (or side of politics) this one is.
The offspring of a professional politician, who at a young age inherited the seat (& fast track to ministry) from their parent.
Some ministerial staff will double or triple check booking arrangements. For higher level public figures protection teams will make advance visits to scout out the premises, for lower level protected politicians phone calls & floor plans suffice.
However for a simple short stay, the staff of this minister made countless phone calls, emails, faxes, etc. All seeking endless verbal reassurance of just the one request:
That due to the Minister's station in life & high rank, the minister must be accommodated in a room on a higher floor than the floor where accompanying staff are booked, and that the staff would be in rooms directly below the Minister's room.
George Orwell's "Animal Farm" has a chapter where the Pigs start walking on their hind legs only. Mine Host has a very clear mental image of this, formed in his childhood when he first read the novel. This image, complete with colour, motion & sound, replays in his head on endless loop whenever this particular Minister's name is heard.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
... do they wonder why they are loathed?
Lack of recent posting due to Mine Host being occupied with the ususal busy December trading season......
... Followed by being in the middle of the grandaddy of all natural disasters. (Grandaddy in terms of the financial impact on the world economy)
In past floods in his town Mine Host has noticed the main feature being an over-supply of epaulettes and an under-supply of experience. This is an unhappy combination for the long-term residents of a small town. Nothing quite like knowing that until MacCauley's paddock goes under, the water won't reach to the base of Jacko's tankstand, & then there is another 6 foot for the water to climb before it gets to your yard, so you've got nothing to worry about yet, etc etc etc.
Or so you thought, THEN some numpty wet-behind-the-ears cop turns up & gets all macho about "floods" and how you have to evacuate blah blah blah, when all he knows about a flood is what he's read in some handbook.
Fortunately with most of the state experiencing flooding over Christmas/New Year there wasn't so much officiousness concentrated in the one spot this time.
Mine Host, in the heart of the CBD one night to top up the tanks in his motor vehicles before the servos closed down/ran out/went under (take your pick) strolled accross the road in the darkness to see how far/fast the water was rising (handy intelligence, and natural human interest in how your own personal usually-dry-river now looks)
A small marquee and witch's hats with orange ribbon between them denoted a manned picket line, so the water must be close. Hopefully there would be SES under the marquee who could provide Mine Host with a reliable update on the behaviour of the river.
When still 40 or so yards from the other side of the road a voice rang out from the marquee:
"Right mate! That's as far as you go!"
Yep, the marquee was infested with a cop.
One second Mine Host is strolling amicably, a pillar of the local society taking in the night air, 40 yards from a folorn "emergency-do-not-cross" tape strung out in the dark, intending to make a few seconds polite small talk with the volunteers manning the line, instead, without provocation Mine Host is subjected to the most offensive statement he'd heard for some time.
Taken aback, and pondering for some moments the words to use to chide the policeman on his lack of manners, Mine Host felt the sadness that stings the innocent when their innocent intentions are destroyed by a half-witted bully for no reason other than the bully was able to.
So instead he turned away, disgusted, the peace of the night ruined. (The river height was later ascertained by the usual method one is forced to adopt when police prevent you looking at the bridge or main road, i.e.by proceeding upstream/downstream a short distance to a secluded spot & forging one's way to the water's edge through debris, long grass & other obstacles - much more dangerous)
Cameraderie and unity of Queenslanders in the face of the collective threat of rising floodwaters?
.....Not when the Queensland Police are on the scene.
... Followed by being in the middle of the grandaddy of all natural disasters. (Grandaddy in terms of the financial impact on the world economy)
In past floods in his town Mine Host has noticed the main feature being an over-supply of epaulettes and an under-supply of experience. This is an unhappy combination for the long-term residents of a small town. Nothing quite like knowing that until MacCauley's paddock goes under, the water won't reach to the base of Jacko's tankstand, & then there is another 6 foot for the water to climb before it gets to your yard, so you've got nothing to worry about yet, etc etc etc.
Or so you thought, THEN some numpty wet-behind-the-ears cop turns up & gets all macho about "floods" and how you have to evacuate blah blah blah, when all he knows about a flood is what he's read in some handbook.
Fortunately with most of the state experiencing flooding over Christmas/New Year there wasn't so much officiousness concentrated in the one spot this time.
Mine Host, in the heart of the CBD one night to top up the tanks in his motor vehicles before the servos closed down/ran out/went under (take your pick) strolled accross the road in the darkness to see how far/fast the water was rising (handy intelligence, and natural human interest in how your own personal usually-dry-river now looks)
A small marquee and witch's hats with orange ribbon between them denoted a manned picket line, so the water must be close. Hopefully there would be SES under the marquee who could provide Mine Host with a reliable update on the behaviour of the river.
When still 40 or so yards from the other side of the road a voice rang out from the marquee:
"Right mate! That's as far as you go!"
Yep, the marquee was infested with a cop.
One second Mine Host is strolling amicably, a pillar of the local society taking in the night air, 40 yards from a folorn "emergency-do-not-cross" tape strung out in the dark, intending to make a few seconds polite small talk with the volunteers manning the line, instead, without provocation Mine Host is subjected to the most offensive statement he'd heard for some time.
Taken aback, and pondering for some moments the words to use to chide the policeman on his lack of manners, Mine Host felt the sadness that stings the innocent when their innocent intentions are destroyed by a half-witted bully for no reason other than the bully was able to.
So instead he turned away, disgusted, the peace of the night ruined. (The river height was later ascertained by the usual method one is forced to adopt when police prevent you looking at the bridge or main road, i.e.by proceeding upstream/downstream a short distance to a secluded spot & forging one's way to the water's edge through debris, long grass & other obstacles - much more dangerous)
Cameraderie and unity of Queenslanders in the face of the collective threat of rising floodwaters?
.....Not when the Queensland Police are on the scene.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Lakminichaturi Ashanesinthuja Madakalapuwa
A minor incident had occurred in front of the Wayside Tavern. Police attended.
A young Constable stood on the footpath, interviewing the witness. With notebook open he condensed the witness' observations into the pertinent details, these he wrote down.
In such situation the police will always write in their notebook the details of the witness:
Full name, date of birth, address and telephone number.
The witness, one of the Wayside Tavern staff, was a Sri Lankan national. Who despite sharing our national sport, are an ethnic group previously unknown in this part of the world. His full name was rather an alphabet soup. The name above, though not his actual name, isn't much different.
If one hears the name "Peter Jackson" spoken aloud only once, it can be written down correctly, due to a lifetime of conditioning to Anglo names.
This is not so easy when as an adult, one encounters a set of foreign names for the first time. (Anybody who on their first ever trip to New Zealand has recieved over the telephone a barrage of directions down various farm roads will know what I mean).
Painstakingly the witness repeated his name & slowly spelled it for the officer.
After several attempts at the name, and with the effort of concentration causing the tip of his tongue to protrude from the corner of his mouth, the Constable plaintively looked around, then haltingly spoke:
"Erm... did anybody else happen to witness what just happened?"
A young Constable stood on the footpath, interviewing the witness. With notebook open he condensed the witness' observations into the pertinent details, these he wrote down.
In such situation the police will always write in their notebook the details of the witness:
Full name, date of birth, address and telephone number.
The witness, one of the Wayside Tavern staff, was a Sri Lankan national. Who despite sharing our national sport, are an ethnic group previously unknown in this part of the world. His full name was rather an alphabet soup. The name above, though not his actual name, isn't much different.
If one hears the name "Peter Jackson" spoken aloud only once, it can be written down correctly, due to a lifetime of conditioning to Anglo names.
This is not so easy when as an adult, one encounters a set of foreign names for the first time. (Anybody who on their first ever trip to New Zealand has recieved over the telephone a barrage of directions down various farm roads will know what I mean).
Painstakingly the witness repeated his name & slowly spelled it for the officer.
After several attempts at the name, and with the effort of concentration causing the tip of his tongue to protrude from the corner of his mouth, the Constable plaintively looked around, then haltingly spoke:
"Erm... did anybody else happen to witness what just happened?"
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tiger in the Cage
A disgruntled customer is leaving the Wayside Tavern. In the foyer he puts his fist violently (as some are apt to do) through the wall, Twice.
On the street he violently punches and kicks the door frame.
Moving along he savagely kicks & punches every door & window he comes to.
Mario the security boss strolls down to where this citizen is unleashing fury onto a neighboring property. The ploy is to engage the miscreant in conversation until such time as the police arrive.
Mario is quite good at "Jaw-Jaw". To the casual observer it would appear the pair are engaged in quiet discussion.
When the police arrive the miscreant gets quite lippy with them and talks himself into being arrested. This done, he commences a verbal rant against "Blacks".
Much is said, a lot of it a significant dig at Mario ("Black so-and-so should never have been allowed into the country", "Why are black things like that allowed to throw me out of a pub?")
And lots of general comment:
"Black [deleted word] should never be allowed into my country"
"Why do we let 'em in? It makes me puke to come into a pub & have blacks serving drinks"
And so on & so forth. This is all said with a Constable holding him by each elbow.
A voice rich with Melanesian timbre speaks "Just put him in here with me!" This has come from the back of the paddy wagon. It had arrived with a prisoner aboard.
When the door of the paddy wagon opens, the new prisoner who seconds before had been so full of aggression against the world in general and blacks in particular, is overcome with fright. (A condemned prisoner being thrust onto the gallows couldn't have been more reluctant.)
It takes all the effort of both Constables to push the fellow in through the door, which they hurriedly lock.
As the police return to the footpath "to take statements", the paddy wagon begins to rock violently on its suspension. This is accompanied by noises of flesh striking the walls.
The Two Constables, backs to the paddy wagon, take lots of notes and interview many people.
On the street he violently punches and kicks the door frame.
Moving along he savagely kicks & punches every door & window he comes to.
Mario the security boss strolls down to where this citizen is unleashing fury onto a neighboring property. The ploy is to engage the miscreant in conversation until such time as the police arrive.
Mario is quite good at "Jaw-Jaw". To the casual observer it would appear the pair are engaged in quiet discussion.
When the police arrive the miscreant gets quite lippy with them and talks himself into being arrested. This done, he commences a verbal rant against "Blacks".
Much is said, a lot of it a significant dig at Mario ("Black so-and-so should never have been allowed into the country", "Why are black things like that allowed to throw me out of a pub?")
And lots of general comment:
"Black [deleted word] should never be allowed into my country"
"Why do we let 'em in? It makes me puke to come into a pub & have blacks serving drinks"
And so on & so forth. This is all said with a Constable holding him by each elbow.
A voice rich with Melanesian timbre speaks "Just put him in here with me!" This has come from the back of the paddy wagon. It had arrived with a prisoner aboard.
When the door of the paddy wagon opens, the new prisoner who seconds before had been so full of aggression against the world in general and blacks in particular, is overcome with fright. (A condemned prisoner being thrust onto the gallows couldn't have been more reluctant.)
It takes all the effort of both Constables to push the fellow in through the door, which they hurriedly lock.
As the police return to the footpath "to take statements", the paddy wagon begins to rock violently on its suspension. This is accompanied by noises of flesh striking the walls.
The Two Constables, backs to the paddy wagon, take lots of notes and interview many people.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Connections by Phone
Scene: Wayside Tavern. Front Door.
Time: Late Saturday Night.
Cast: Police Officer in distant coastal resort town (voice only), Boss of Security Guard Co, Mine Host.
Props: Mobile Phone.
Action: Mine Host & Boss of Security Guard Co are engaged in idle chatter at front door, mobile phone rings...
Mobile Phone: Ring, ring,
Boss Guard: (bringing phone to ear) Hello, Mario speaking.
Voice on Phone: (audible to Mine Host, due to volume turned up to maximum level) This is Sgt Plod of Distant Coastal Resort town police, my boys have just picked up one of your guards for high range Drink Driving, what do you want us to do with him?
Boss Guard: Can you do something about it mate?
Voice of Police Officer: Easily, it'll never be heard of again, it didn't happen. Bye.
Action: Boss Guard puts phone away, Mine Host (shaking head) shuffles away indoors.
Note: The boss guard & the policeman didn't know each other, the (allegedly) drink driving security guard was on holiday in a different province, several hundred km from his workplace.
Time: Late Saturday Night.
Cast: Police Officer in distant coastal resort town (voice only), Boss of Security Guard Co, Mine Host.
Props: Mobile Phone.
Action: Mine Host & Boss of Security Guard Co are engaged in idle chatter at front door, mobile phone rings...
Mobile Phone: Ring, ring,
Boss Guard: (bringing phone to ear) Hello, Mario speaking.
Voice on Phone: (audible to Mine Host, due to volume turned up to maximum level) This is Sgt Plod of Distant Coastal Resort town police, my boys have just picked up one of your guards for high range Drink Driving, what do you want us to do with him?
Boss Guard: Can you do something about it mate?
Voice of Police Officer: Easily, it'll never be heard of again, it didn't happen. Bye.
Action: Boss Guard puts phone away, Mine Host (shaking head) shuffles away indoors.
Note: The boss guard & the policeman didn't know each other, the (allegedly) drink driving security guard was on holiday in a different province, several hundred km from his workplace.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Soviet Union Without the Tanks, and just as Inefficient
Like many, Mine Host is no stranger to the frustrations of dealing with Australia's telephone company. Currently named "Telstra", it is the only nationwide provider of landline, internet & mobile phone services. There is no alternative provider.
In most places options are limited to:
a) Use Telstra or;
b) Do without telephone & internet.
Mine Host longs for the day when competition in the telecoms industry extends to areas beyond the Cappucino divide.
Pre-competition Telstra (then named "Telecom") had a customer service attitude that led to it being known far & wide as "Just like the Soviet Union, but without the Tanks". Little has changed.
When the Diver's Arms took over an adjacent motel wing, the acquired operation had 9 landlines accross Two accounts. Mine Host & the vendor filled out forms to transfer the Two accounts to Mine Host's existing account.
The forms were submitted, time passed, the telephones in the new motel wing were cut off. For "non-payment of account".
Extended periods on hold ensued, followed by discussions with the usual round-robin of consultants in various sections of Telstra.
Outcome: Mine Host was requested to resubmit the original forms for transfer of the Two accounts as Telstra claimed to have no record of a change of customer.
Telephone services were restored.
Time passed, the telephones in the new motel wing were cut off. For "non-payment of the account". Telstra claimed no knowledge of any change of ownership paperwork & got quite snippy about the bill. Extended periods on hold ensued, followed by discusssion with consultants in various depts. of Telstra...... etc etc etc.
The change of customer forms were re-submitted, everything "will now be fixed up sir".. blah blah blah.
Time passed, the telephones in the new motel wing were cut off.. etc etc etc..... Again Telstra claimed no knowledge of any change of customer forms, & so on............
.........As time passes Mine Host is armed with an ever-enlarging set of Telstra refernce numbers, consultant's names, and list of special teams that his case has been escalated to.
The change of customer forms have now been submitted Four times in Three months.
It would be false to claim nothing has changed, as;
Two of the 9 landlines have been permenantly disconnected. (Guests now have difficulty phoning out)
One of the landlines has been transferred singly to Mine Host's account.
The original Two accounts are still in the name of the vendor (sans the landline that has made it accross to Mine Host's account)
and;
One of the landlines has branched out onto a new account of it's very own, also in the name of the vendor.
At every step of the way Mine Host has spoken to Telstra staff who come accross as efficient, intelligent, and with a full understanding of their product.
The original paperwork is slowly becoming covered with stamps saying "Submitted to X on date X via means X (Mine Host popped into the newsagent & got a rubber stamp that says "Submitted......." with a space for the date)
You couldn't make it up.
In most places options are limited to:
a) Use Telstra or;
b) Do without telephone & internet.
Mine Host longs for the day when competition in the telecoms industry extends to areas beyond the Cappucino divide.
Pre-competition Telstra (then named "Telecom") had a customer service attitude that led to it being known far & wide as "Just like the Soviet Union, but without the Tanks". Little has changed.
When the Diver's Arms took over an adjacent motel wing, the acquired operation had 9 landlines accross Two accounts. Mine Host & the vendor filled out forms to transfer the Two accounts to Mine Host's existing account.
The forms were submitted, time passed, the telephones in the new motel wing were cut off. For "non-payment of account".
Extended periods on hold ensued, followed by discussions with the usual round-robin of consultants in various sections of Telstra.
Outcome: Mine Host was requested to resubmit the original forms for transfer of the Two accounts as Telstra claimed to have no record of a change of customer.
Telephone services were restored.
Time passed, the telephones in the new motel wing were cut off. For "non-payment of the account". Telstra claimed no knowledge of any change of ownership paperwork & got quite snippy about the bill. Extended periods on hold ensued, followed by discusssion with consultants in various depts. of Telstra...... etc etc etc.
The change of customer forms were re-submitted, everything "will now be fixed up sir".. blah blah blah.
Time passed, the telephones in the new motel wing were cut off.. etc etc etc..... Again Telstra claimed no knowledge of any change of customer forms, & so on............
.........As time passes Mine Host is armed with an ever-enlarging set of Telstra refernce numbers, consultant's names, and list of special teams that his case has been escalated to.
The change of customer forms have now been submitted Four times in Three months.
It would be false to claim nothing has changed, as;
Two of the 9 landlines have been permenantly disconnected. (Guests now have difficulty phoning out)
One of the landlines has been transferred singly to Mine Host's account.
The original Two accounts are still in the name of the vendor (sans the landline that has made it accross to Mine Host's account)
and;
One of the landlines has branched out onto a new account of it's very own, also in the name of the vendor.
At every step of the way Mine Host has spoken to Telstra staff who come accross as efficient, intelligent, and with a full understanding of their product.
The original paperwork is slowly becoming covered with stamps saying "Submitted to X on date X via means X (Mine Host popped into the newsagent & got a rubber stamp that says "Submitted......." with a space for the date)
You couldn't make it up.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Watch your Tongue !!!
With a workforce that historically has been One-Third native Australian, Mine Host is one of the larger scale employers of (what are currently called) indigenous people.
Surrounded as he is by Government Departments, Mine Host is often amused by the dynamics of public servants pretending to not notice race, whilst knowingly or unknowingly getting themselves into a twist over pandering to perceived racial sensitivities.
This is a phenomenon that exists only in the public service, academia, & other places where tangible results for work done are not important.
The administation manager of the Wayside Tavern was indigenous. On a particular day this Administration Manager received a telephone call from the local department head of a Federal Government Department.
At some point in the conversation the Department Head suddnely realised who was on the other end of the line, & in a mixture of anger & bitterness spat into the phone:
"You're that Black Bastard that's in charge there, you've always been a problem!"
Realising what they had said, a frantic & desperate Department Head arrived a few minutes later, anxious to apologise, appease, or anything to have the matter swept under the carpet.
Well accustomed to racialism, & being called this & worse on an almost daily basis as just being part of the job, the admin manager went through the motions of having a cup of tea & a scone with the frantic Department Head, after which an assurance was made that the matter was "already forgotten".
UPDATE:
Oops! Important error in the above. The racial identities are back to front. It was an indigenous black department head calling a white anglo-saxon a "white something beginning with "C")
But the essence of the story isn't changed, is it?
Surrounded as he is by Government Departments, Mine Host is often amused by the dynamics of public servants pretending to not notice race, whilst knowingly or unknowingly getting themselves into a twist over pandering to perceived racial sensitivities.
This is a phenomenon that exists only in the public service, academia, & other places where tangible results for work done are not important.
The administation manager of the Wayside Tavern was indigenous. On a particular day this Administration Manager received a telephone call from the local department head of a Federal Government Department.
At some point in the conversation the Department Head suddnely realised who was on the other end of the line, & in a mixture of anger & bitterness spat into the phone:
"You're that Black Bastard that's in charge there, you've always been a problem!"
Realising what they had said, a frantic & desperate Department Head arrived a few minutes later, anxious to apologise, appease, or anything to have the matter swept under the carpet.
Well accustomed to racialism, & being called this & worse on an almost daily basis as just being part of the job, the admin manager went through the motions of having a cup of tea & a scone with the frantic Department Head, after which an assurance was made that the matter was "already forgotten".
UPDATE:
Oops! Important error in the above. The racial identities are back to front. It was an indigenous black department head calling a white anglo-saxon a "white something beginning with "C")
But the essence of the story isn't changed, is it?
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Culturally Insensitive Teacher
A teacher is in front of her class of teenagers. Mid-lesson a teenage boy (from another class) strides purposefully into the room, without so much as a bye-your-leave, marches to the desk of a girl pupil (his younger sister) and sets about bashing her.
The beating is fast, savage & expert. By the time teachers have intervened, blood is drawn, lips are smashed, her dress is torn, bruising and black eyes follow.
How was this handled by the teachers?
The Police are not called. Instead the Teacher whose class was interrupted gives the boy detention, or lines to write out (or something equally mild) as punishment for interrupting class & failing to "show respect" for his sister.
A day or two later the teacher is again in front of her class. Mid-lesson a woman (mother of the abovementioned brother & sister) strides purposefully up to the Teacher, without so much as a bye-your-leave, and with brutal swiftness sets about bashing the Teacher.
The first blow knocks the Teacher back over the teacher's table. The table is tipped over, the Teacher lands with a thud on the floor. Class props & student projects are sent flying as the woman's intensely physical attack on the Teacher continues.
This time the Police are summoned. The woman is taken away by the Police, all the while loudly proclaiming that nobody "interferes" by telling her son how to handle his sister AND gets away with it.
The Education Department tut-tutted aplenty and pressured the Teacher into not pressing charges against the woman. The police "investigated" & found no charge to stick the woman with.
The Teachers Union didn't wait for the Teacher to contact them. Instead the union's senior official in the nearest city immediately made a public statement that they would be helping the Teacher with counselling on the matter of cultural insensitivity, and that Teachers in general should be more culturally aware of the norms of the towns in which they teach.
During a newspaper interview (on another matter) the reporter seeks Mine Host's opinion on, amongst other events, the recent high school "incident". Mine Host, having just read in the press the comment by the Union, gives a quick opinion on the topics of:
Protection of Members (union abrogation of),
Common Assault,
Public Disorder Offences,
Safety in the Workplace (as viewed by the Trade Unions)
Classroom Discipline,
Liability of Employers who fail to take measures to prevent staff being assaulted at work.
And a quick character opinion & suggested alternative career of the union official who made the reprehensible statement implying that the Teacher brought it upon herself.
The reporter blurted: "That union officer is my daughter!"
Then calmed down Three seconds later & said "By golly, you're dead right though, I've never thought about it like that before!"
This, in a Queensland state high school, in a Queensland town, in 2010.
The beating is fast, savage & expert. By the time teachers have intervened, blood is drawn, lips are smashed, her dress is torn, bruising and black eyes follow.
How was this handled by the teachers?
The Police are not called. Instead the Teacher whose class was interrupted gives the boy detention, or lines to write out (or something equally mild) as punishment for interrupting class & failing to "show respect" for his sister.
A day or two later the teacher is again in front of her class. Mid-lesson a woman (mother of the abovementioned brother & sister) strides purposefully up to the Teacher, without so much as a bye-your-leave, and with brutal swiftness sets about bashing the Teacher.
The first blow knocks the Teacher back over the teacher's table. The table is tipped over, the Teacher lands with a thud on the floor. Class props & student projects are sent flying as the woman's intensely physical attack on the Teacher continues.
This time the Police are summoned. The woman is taken away by the Police, all the while loudly proclaiming that nobody "interferes" by telling her son how to handle his sister AND gets away with it.
The Education Department tut-tutted aplenty and pressured the Teacher into not pressing charges against the woman. The police "investigated" & found no charge to stick the woman with.
The Teachers Union didn't wait for the Teacher to contact them. Instead the union's senior official in the nearest city immediately made a public statement that they would be helping the Teacher with counselling on the matter of cultural insensitivity, and that Teachers in general should be more culturally aware of the norms of the towns in which they teach.
During a newspaper interview (on another matter) the reporter seeks Mine Host's opinion on, amongst other events, the recent high school "incident". Mine Host, having just read in the press the comment by the Union, gives a quick opinion on the topics of:
Protection of Members (union abrogation of),
Common Assault,
Public Disorder Offences,
Safety in the Workplace (as viewed by the Trade Unions)
Classroom Discipline,
Liability of Employers who fail to take measures to prevent staff being assaulted at work.
And a quick character opinion & suggested alternative career of the union official who made the reprehensible statement implying that the Teacher brought it upon herself.
The reporter blurted: "That union officer is my daughter!"
Then calmed down Three seconds later & said "By golly, you're dead right though, I've never thought about it like that before!"
This, in a Queensland state high school, in a Queensland town, in 2010.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Unsafe Workplace
New girl arrives to take up a position.
She filled in an employment contract stating there were no injuries or medical conditions that would impair her ability to work, then signed underneath her words.
This representation was not consistent with her Facebook page, which revealed her discussing Two injuries & how she was going to conceal these injuries until she could get a job & "get compo" for them.
A week or so after starting work, she came to Mine Host for a small cash loan, as she "had to get something at the Chemist's shop"
Eagle eyed Mine Host noted her strolling back from the Chemist shop carrying a bandage & arm sling.
The following day when working alone & unobserved she "injured" her arm in the course of her duties.
Presenting with the injured arm bandaged & in the sling, she announced to Mine Host that she would have to submit a Worker's Compensation claim.
Mine Host then had a brief conversation with her, conducted under the cone of silence.
As a result of this conversation she immediately resumed her duties, having had a sudden change of heart about a Worker's Compensation claim.
She filled in an employment contract stating there were no injuries or medical conditions that would impair her ability to work, then signed underneath her words.
This representation was not consistent with her Facebook page, which revealed her discussing Two injuries & how she was going to conceal these injuries until she could get a job & "get compo" for them.
A week or so after starting work, she came to Mine Host for a small cash loan, as she "had to get something at the Chemist's shop"
Eagle eyed Mine Host noted her strolling back from the Chemist shop carrying a bandage & arm sling.
The following day when working alone & unobserved she "injured" her arm in the course of her duties.
Presenting with the injured arm bandaged & in the sling, she announced to Mine Host that she would have to submit a Worker's Compensation claim.
Mine Host then had a brief conversation with her, conducted under the cone of silence.
As a result of this conversation she immediately resumed her duties, having had a sudden change of heart about a Worker's Compensation claim.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Screeching in the Night
Shrieks and Cries that eminate from the nocturnal shadows & surrounds are nothing to remark upon. One can almost believe intelligent gorillas or creatures from the netherworld are occupying the world outside the walls. It is as if childhood fears of bogeymen or the-thing-under-the-bed have returned to haunt adulthood.
However it is not gorillas or bogeymen, it is humans. Alcohol & worse having depleted their their humanity & inhibitions. Under cover of the post-midnight blackness they fight, love, maul, vandalise, drink and destroy.
Blood curdling screams were heard this particular night, from Three o'clock in the morning until an hour or so before the pre-dawn light. Such was the horrible crescendo of the screeching that one could almost believe that the noise was an animal (or human) in mortal peril. (Anyone who has heard Curlews calling in the night will know what I mean.)
At Half-past Seven in the morning Mine Host is loitering at his front gate (as you do), surveying his front wall for signs of damage or attempted entry, whilst simultaneously admiring the verdant peacefulness of the town in daylight.
This is interrupted by the breathless arrival (at a sprint) of the operator of the government canteen Two blocks away. Gasping for breath he states:
"One of my staff has been raped, what should I do next?"
This being insufficient information to formulate an answer, Mine Host conducts a calm-but-rapid interrogation:
"Where is she now?"
"In the restaurant coldroom" (translation: She hasn't phoned from home to say she won't be reporting for work today due to having been raped, instead the matter is immediate)
"Was she raped right there at work, perhaps in the coldroom?"
"No"
"Was she raped on the way to work this morning?"
"No, it happened when she was out on the streets late last night, she's been too scared to go home, she came straight to work, she says the attack only finised a half-hour ago"
Struggling to comprehend the way this man is handling the situation, Mine Host advises him that the process for dealing with a girl presenting at one's workplace and reported she's been raped is to immediately contact the police and the girl's mother (she was 16 years old).
Nodding breathlessly he sprints off in the direction of his canteen. A few minutes later several police cars converge on the canteen. A minute or so later most police detach from the scene & accelerate toward the hostel for delinquent youth and it's environs. Residents of the hostel decamp at pace in all directions.
She had been "partying" after midnight on the streets with Two older girls she knew, in the company of several young men from the hostel.
The attack had commenced at Three a.m and lasted until Six a.m. (Everybody for Three blocks around had heard the entire attack).
It had been ferocious. She had been dragged from the park into the hostel & most (if not all) residents in the hostel had had their turn.
Mine Host's senior female staff were of the belief that the first sexual encounter was consensual, but that she was unlikely to have agreed to accommodate the entire hostel.
Any sexual encounter, including rape, is a matter for specialist medical examination, but with his layman's eyes Mine Host noted the following: She had obviously endured a shocking psychological experience. She had been beaten very badly and was barely recognisable. She was covered in streaked and spattered blood, mixed with dirt and mud, making it difficult to tell if she had any cuts or bruises. Clumps of hair were missing and blood streaks made it impossible to see her original hair colour. Her head was swollen from the beating such that if she had a hat at home it would no longer fit on her head. Her nose & teeth were likely smashed. And so on.
The beating had been quite vicious.
Her father is a senior public servant.
The Two friends she was out with are very hard cases. Both are aged over Twenty and have served jail time. It is possible they were amused to spend a few days befriending a well raised girl, then throwing her to those wolves.
However it is not gorillas or bogeymen, it is humans. Alcohol & worse having depleted their their humanity & inhibitions. Under cover of the post-midnight blackness they fight, love, maul, vandalise, drink and destroy.
Blood curdling screams were heard this particular night, from Three o'clock in the morning until an hour or so before the pre-dawn light. Such was the horrible crescendo of the screeching that one could almost believe that the noise was an animal (or human) in mortal peril. (Anyone who has heard Curlews calling in the night will know what I mean.)
At Half-past Seven in the morning Mine Host is loitering at his front gate (as you do), surveying his front wall for signs of damage or attempted entry, whilst simultaneously admiring the verdant peacefulness of the town in daylight.
This is interrupted by the breathless arrival (at a sprint) of the operator of the government canteen Two blocks away. Gasping for breath he states:
"One of my staff has been raped, what should I do next?"
This being insufficient information to formulate an answer, Mine Host conducts a calm-but-rapid interrogation:
"Where is she now?"
"In the restaurant coldroom" (translation: She hasn't phoned from home to say she won't be reporting for work today due to having been raped, instead the matter is immediate)
"Was she raped right there at work, perhaps in the coldroom?"
"No"
"Was she raped on the way to work this morning?"
"No, it happened when she was out on the streets late last night, she's been too scared to go home, she came straight to work, she says the attack only finised a half-hour ago"
Struggling to comprehend the way this man is handling the situation, Mine Host advises him that the process for dealing with a girl presenting at one's workplace and reported she's been raped is to immediately contact the police and the girl's mother (she was 16 years old).
Nodding breathlessly he sprints off in the direction of his canteen. A few minutes later several police cars converge on the canteen. A minute or so later most police detach from the scene & accelerate toward the hostel for delinquent youth and it's environs. Residents of the hostel decamp at pace in all directions.
She had been "partying" after midnight on the streets with Two older girls she knew, in the company of several young men from the hostel.
The attack had commenced at Three a.m and lasted until Six a.m. (Everybody for Three blocks around had heard the entire attack).
It had been ferocious. She had been dragged from the park into the hostel & most (if not all) residents in the hostel had had their turn.
Mine Host's senior female staff were of the belief that the first sexual encounter was consensual, but that she was unlikely to have agreed to accommodate the entire hostel.
Any sexual encounter, including rape, is a matter for specialist medical examination, but with his layman's eyes Mine Host noted the following: She had obviously endured a shocking psychological experience. She had been beaten very badly and was barely recognisable. She was covered in streaked and spattered blood, mixed with dirt and mud, making it difficult to tell if she had any cuts or bruises. Clumps of hair were missing and blood streaks made it impossible to see her original hair colour. Her head was swollen from the beating such that if she had a hat at home it would no longer fit on her head. Her nose & teeth were likely smashed. And so on.
The beating had been quite vicious.
Her father is a senior public servant.
The Two friends she was out with are very hard cases. Both are aged over Twenty and have served jail time. It is possible they were amused to spend a few days befriending a well raised girl, then throwing her to those wolves.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Wolf in Wolf's clothing
Membership or otherwise (by the staff) of a Trade Union has never been an issue at the Wayside Tavern. Mine Host knows some staff have been union members, and some due to bitter experience are violently opposed to trade unions.
Disclosure: Mine Host is a sponsor of a Trade Union, his biggest customer, after collective federal & state government departments, has been the Trade Union Movement. His father held a Union Ticket most of his working life. Mine Host, courtesy of from whom he is descended, is Labor Royalty.
An employer in the town is the subject of a complex industrial proceeding, in which union involvement is quite heavy.
The union officer involved in the matter is an in-house guest booked for a long stay. He has become a familiar figure around the place, eating most meals in house & having constant dealings with most of the staff.
Currently most, if not all, staff are not in a union. Thus the extended stay of a union Industrial Officer is a golden opportunity for the union movement.
The union official is an abrasive, demanding, sour tempered swine. He is rude to the staff, possibly the worst behaved customer we have ever had. No matter the effort put in by the staff he is never anything but displeased & scathing. He is constantly scathing of the staff on a personal level, seeking to demean them at almost every opportunity.
Were Mine Host or his staff to treat their customers the way this man treats the ordinary worker, we wouldn't have any customers by the end of the week.
Easy to see why these swine seek to have union membership mandated by law. Were membership numbers reliant upon service & courtesy toward members the union movement would deservedly be finished.
Disclosure: Mine Host is a sponsor of a Trade Union, his biggest customer, after collective federal & state government departments, has been the Trade Union Movement. His father held a Union Ticket most of his working life. Mine Host, courtesy of from whom he is descended, is Labor Royalty.
An employer in the town is the subject of a complex industrial proceeding, in which union involvement is quite heavy.
The union officer involved in the matter is an in-house guest booked for a long stay. He has become a familiar figure around the place, eating most meals in house & having constant dealings with most of the staff.
Currently most, if not all, staff are not in a union. Thus the extended stay of a union Industrial Officer is a golden opportunity for the union movement.
The union official is an abrasive, demanding, sour tempered swine. He is rude to the staff, possibly the worst behaved customer we have ever had. No matter the effort put in by the staff he is never anything but displeased & scathing. He is constantly scathing of the staff on a personal level, seeking to demean them at almost every opportunity.
Were Mine Host or his staff to treat their customers the way this man treats the ordinary worker, we wouldn't have any customers by the end of the week.
Easy to see why these swine seek to have union membership mandated by law. Were membership numbers reliant upon service & courtesy toward members the union movement would deservedly be finished.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Ladies in Uniform
A regular meeting between the town's Liquor Licencees and Police.
An aside: Boy do you get some red hot quotes from the coppers in these meetings - out of the mouths of babes etc. It is amazing how middle aged men (Sgts) can be so clueless about how the world works. This is of course the inevitable outcome of for most serving officers the Police being their first job, having been sworn in as teenagers.
The recent acceptance of mature aged recruits (i.e. late 20's, possibly 30's) will eventually result in an infusion of Police Sergeants with a less isolated worldview.
This can only be a good thing.
Simultaneous to acceptance of "mature" recruits has been "equal opportunity" recruiting, a fancy way of saying that previous physical requirements have been scrapped.
This was confirmed (unintentionally) by the Sergeant at the meeting. When asked why Police walk-through a licenced premises at 9pm on a Tuesday (when the place is empty) instead of midnight Friday? (when a patrolling Blue Shirt will have a positive impact upon public behaviour)
"They prefer to not patrol pubs at that time, as they get cat-called & ice is thrown at them from the crowd, who's going to want to put up with that?" - He expected us to agree, being too clueless to understand the grim reality of working life for those who don't wear that protective blue shirt.
At this point in the meeting the town's publicans, rarely able to agree upon anything, & who can't stand the sight of each other, never mind actually.. (ugh) ... talk to each other, stared at each other gape jawed. Their opinion of the police (based upon the reality of actual police competence, performance, consistency and morality) vacillates from suspicion to open contempt, however this was breaking new ground.
Mine Host has known plenty of police whom nobody would have been game to cat-call or throw ice at (no matter how dark or how crowded a pub was). It would seem those days (and men) are no more.
An aside: Boy do you get some red hot quotes from the coppers in these meetings - out of the mouths of babes etc. It is amazing how middle aged men (Sgts) can be so clueless about how the world works. This is of course the inevitable outcome of for most serving officers the Police being their first job, having been sworn in as teenagers.
The recent acceptance of mature aged recruits (i.e. late 20's, possibly 30's) will eventually result in an infusion of Police Sergeants with a less isolated worldview.
This can only be a good thing.
Simultaneous to acceptance of "mature" recruits has been "equal opportunity" recruiting, a fancy way of saying that previous physical requirements have been scrapped.
This was confirmed (unintentionally) by the Sergeant at the meeting. When asked why Police walk-through a licenced premises at 9pm on a Tuesday (when the place is empty) instead of midnight Friday? (when a patrolling Blue Shirt will have a positive impact upon public behaviour)
"They prefer to not patrol pubs at that time, as they get cat-called & ice is thrown at them from the crowd, who's going to want to put up with that?" - He expected us to agree, being too clueless to understand the grim reality of working life for those who don't wear that protective blue shirt.
At this point in the meeting the town's publicans, rarely able to agree upon anything, & who can't stand the sight of each other, never mind actually.. (ugh) ... talk to each other, stared at each other gape jawed. Their opinion of the police (based upon the reality of actual police competence, performance, consistency and morality) vacillates from suspicion to open contempt, however this was breaking new ground.
Mine Host has known plenty of police whom nobody would have been game to cat-call or throw ice at (no matter how dark or how crowded a pub was). It would seem those days (and men) are no more.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
But can he Go a bit?
A recruiting agent (well known to Mine Host) telephoned in response to Mine Host's online job advert for a Bar Manager. The recruiter had "just the person" for the job, blah blah blah. (In Australia's tight labour market everybody has a job, recruiters have nothing to sell, job advertisments will likely attract desperate and speculative employment agencies in greater numbers than actual candidates.)
Mine Host cut in with "Can the candidate fight?"
Overlooking this speed bump, the agent rattled on regardless.
Mine Host continually interjected; "But can he fight?"
After a few rebuffs to queries about this key qualification, Mine Host cut into the agent's spiel:
"Let me put it this way, if he takes the job and can't fight, we'll soon know as he'll GET HIS RUDDY BLOCK KNOCKED OFF!!!"
This caused the agent to pause.
Before then launching into a series of attempts to neutralise this requirement by trying to tongue-twist Mine Host into contradicting this request, culminating in a most naive statement: "I'm not sure it is legal to start hitting your customers" (note: it is not illegal to do so)
This sort of talk may work in a courtroom where all that has to be done is fool a magistrate or judge.
In the more pragmatic school of bare knuckles, fancy talking alas, will never trump a straight right.
Sick of this urger telling him his most unsuitable pansy candidate could fight, Mine Host brought the conversation quickly to a head by asking the agent would he be willing to enter a legal agreement to indemnify Mine Host from any costs incurred in the event the candidate was hospitalised by customers within the first week. ie, full medical & hospital costs. (Should be a safe bet, being as how the candidate can fight & all?)
The telephone call ended quickly.
Mine Host cut in with "Can the candidate fight?"
Overlooking this speed bump, the agent rattled on regardless.
Mine Host continually interjected; "But can he fight?"
After a few rebuffs to queries about this key qualification, Mine Host cut into the agent's spiel:
"Let me put it this way, if he takes the job and can't fight, we'll soon know as he'll GET HIS RUDDY BLOCK KNOCKED OFF!!!"
This caused the agent to pause.
Before then launching into a series of attempts to neutralise this requirement by trying to tongue-twist Mine Host into contradicting this request, culminating in a most naive statement: "I'm not sure it is legal to start hitting your customers" (note: it is not illegal to do so)
This sort of talk may work in a courtroom where all that has to be done is fool a magistrate or judge.
In the more pragmatic school of bare knuckles, fancy talking alas, will never trump a straight right.
Sick of this urger telling him his most unsuitable pansy candidate could fight, Mine Host brought the conversation quickly to a head by asking the agent would he be willing to enter a legal agreement to indemnify Mine Host from any costs incurred in the event the candidate was hospitalised by customers within the first week. ie, full medical & hospital costs. (Should be a safe bet, being as how the candidate can fight & all?)
The telephone call ended quickly.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Blinking Pratts
Recently Mine Host has done much gloating. His heart soars with joy to see one of his enemies receiving quite a deal of negative press. (Wicked of him to feel this way)
This enemy is an oil company, which shall not be named, but has allegedly spilled oil accross half the ocean's surface, and shall be referred to by the (you'll never crack this one) code name of: "Bippy"
Until recently Mine Host had been a long standing customer of Bippy. Years ago their staff, needing to increase the number of credit accounts, had entered the Wayside Tavern and signed up a willing Mine Host.
Issued with his own fuel card, Mine Host soon became blind to other brands of fuel. Over the subsequent 10 years or so it became a small pleasure to talk others into buying all their fuel at Bippy, and Mine Host did what little he could to steer all business in their direction.
He should have known better. Bippy is a corporation, thus cannot conceptualise the word "loyalty".
One day, in driving rain and far from home, Mine Host wheeled into a suburban Bippy station and filled his empty tank......... then the Bippy fuel card was rejected by the card-swipe machine. The attendant enquired did Mine Host have "an alternative means" to pay for the fuel.
They sorta gotcha at this point, as one can hardly take the fuel back out & return it to them.
No, Mine Host was not carrying cash nor credit card. The attendant got "the credit department" on the phone, who informed Mine Host that his credit was cut off, as the bill had not been paid. A robust exchange of opinions followed, at the end of which Mine Host was not likely to be forgotten by the credit manager (regional) for Bippy. Good.
Fortunately Mine Host was able to contact a relative who dwelled nearby to attend the station & pay for the fuel in his tank.
Mine Host then had his office provide evidence to the Bippy credit dept that the account payment had cleared a couple of weeks previously. Mine Host then telephoned the Bippy credit manager to rub his nose in this snippet of information.
Bippy credit staff had banked the payment, but not entered the payment onto Mine Host's account statement. How did Bippy handle this incredibly stupid and for them embarrassing oversight?
By telephoning Mine Host & acknowledging that, Yes, the bill was technically paid, but that (in a heated & belligerent tone of voice) "It isn't just us, You've got to wear some of the blame for this!"
Hmmmm..... (This is where Mine Host should have parted company with Bippy.)
A year later, Mine Host fills up at the nearest Bippy, (the one from which staff had proactively recruited him as a customer). The fuel card was rejected by the card-swiper. Mine Host, having learned from experience, knew payment of the account had cleared many days previously.
The attendant called the manager. Mine Host cooled his heels for several minutes until the manager, a female aged about Thirty, appeared. She started off by asking Mine Host (in a none too friendly manner) how he intended to pay for the fuel that he had put in his car?
Mine Host indicated his Bippy card. The manager (obtusely) spoke to Mine Host as if he wasn't very smart, pedantically stating the he had to pay with either cash or one of several well known credit cards. Mine Host rarely carries any means of payment, and said so.
The manager (now with chin out) thrust a printed form onto the counter & stated (loudly) that being as his credit was cut off "for non payment of the account" and that he was refusing to pay, Mine Host was obliged to identify himself, and (right there in public) he would tell her his birthday, home address, full name, and prove all this by displaying his driver's licence.
This was too much. Carrying a Bippy fuel card, with "Wayside Tavern" branded on it, within sight of the Wayside Tavern (on the next block), and having paid the bill, Mine Host was now rather offended.
By now the entire shop full of queued fuel customers was intently watching & listening.
Mine Host would drop dead before he would tell most people, especially in public with other people watching & listening, his full name, home address and date of birth. And he said so.
The manager belligerently stated that if Mine Host did not, she would "call the cops". Unintimidated, Mine Host advised her that it was a free country and with or without his permission she could telephone to whomever she wished.
She disappeared, reappearing several minutes later to (with a smirk) inform Mine Host "they're on their way". Mine Host wasn't particularly interested in anything she had to say, and hadn't been since she stated out loud in public that he didn't pay his bills.
Meantime Mine Host had telephone his secretary, telling her what had happened, and asking her to pop down to the Bippy with $17.40 for him to pay the bill with.
In the interim a police car pulled alongside the shop, and Constable Concentration alighted. Entering the shop he was claimed by the manager, who commenced explaining the "crime" to him.
Mine Host paid little attention, knowing she would be busy for quite some before Constable Concentration grasped what business this affair was of the police's, if any.
Meantime secretary arrives, with $17.40 in cash, and paperwork to prove the account payment is up to date.
Mine Host then strolls over to where the manager is vainly attempting to explain the matter to an ever more flummoxed Constable Concentration. Mine Host leans past Constable Concetration, plonks the $17.40 on the counter, in a brittle voice instructs her that she will provide a receipt for payment, and thrusts at her a copy of the paperwork proving the account is paid, informs her that this proves the bill was paid, and that perhaps she should brush up on her facts before making loud public proclamations on the subject of Mine Host's bill paying proclivities. Mine Host went on to state that he would accept a written apology from her, and nothing less.
Then Constable Concentration, who as far as Mine Host was concerned wasn't involved, chimed in with an angry and most incorrect "hang on, it is not her fault, don't start getting stuck into her!"
Unable to believe (actually well able to believe) that someone could be so stupid, yet remain in the police force, Mine Host rounded on Constable Concentration & stated "When I require your advice, I'll make it abundantly clear to you, until then be quiet"
Then followed several seconds while every muscle in the officer's face contorted, creating a most amusing spectacle of varied facial expressions, all underlined by a most black cloud forming over his head.
He then spluttered something lame (most police have debating skills of zero, and if unable to arrest or write a ticket, make fools of themselves). Mine Host ignored him, gave the Bippy manager another free character assessment and left, but not before advising Constable Concentration to not overdo it and blow a gasket.
Since that date Mine Host has not darkened the door of a Bippy service station.
Mine Host now directs needy motorists to anywhere but Bippy, and though has made no comment to his staff, he notes that all 60 of them have been politic enough to not fill up at Bippy, ever.
From time to time Mine Host delights in reminding Bippy of this.
Mine Host did contact senior personnel at Bippy, who sealed his opinion by rounding on him for his "bad credit history". (Card refused Twice, you see) Then followed a most robust exchange of opinions, ensuring Mine Host is not forgotten by them. Good.
They may be "executives" (whatever that may mean) but they aren't smart enough to know that as a business ethos "the customer is always wrong" is taken them down the wrong path.
Every square inch of extra oil spill, every dollar of lost value, every dollar of cleanup cost, (all reported on the news) is music to Mine Host's ears.
This enemy is an oil company, which shall not be named, but has allegedly spilled oil accross half the ocean's surface, and shall be referred to by the (you'll never crack this one) code name of: "Bippy"
Until recently Mine Host had been a long standing customer of Bippy. Years ago their staff, needing to increase the number of credit accounts, had entered the Wayside Tavern and signed up a willing Mine Host.
Issued with his own fuel card, Mine Host soon became blind to other brands of fuel. Over the subsequent 10 years or so it became a small pleasure to talk others into buying all their fuel at Bippy, and Mine Host did what little he could to steer all business in their direction.
He should have known better. Bippy is a corporation, thus cannot conceptualise the word "loyalty".
One day, in driving rain and far from home, Mine Host wheeled into a suburban Bippy station and filled his empty tank......... then the Bippy fuel card was rejected by the card-swipe machine. The attendant enquired did Mine Host have "an alternative means" to pay for the fuel.
They sorta gotcha at this point, as one can hardly take the fuel back out & return it to them.
No, Mine Host was not carrying cash nor credit card. The attendant got "the credit department" on the phone, who informed Mine Host that his credit was cut off, as the bill had not been paid. A robust exchange of opinions followed, at the end of which Mine Host was not likely to be forgotten by the credit manager (regional) for Bippy. Good.
Fortunately Mine Host was able to contact a relative who dwelled nearby to attend the station & pay for the fuel in his tank.
Mine Host then had his office provide evidence to the Bippy credit dept that the account payment had cleared a couple of weeks previously. Mine Host then telephoned the Bippy credit manager to rub his nose in this snippet of information.
Bippy credit staff had banked the payment, but not entered the payment onto Mine Host's account statement. How did Bippy handle this incredibly stupid and for them embarrassing oversight?
By telephoning Mine Host & acknowledging that, Yes, the bill was technically paid, but that (in a heated & belligerent tone of voice) "It isn't just us, You've got to wear some of the blame for this!"
Hmmmm..... (This is where Mine Host should have parted company with Bippy.)
A year later, Mine Host fills up at the nearest Bippy, (the one from which staff had proactively recruited him as a customer). The fuel card was rejected by the card-swiper. Mine Host, having learned from experience, knew payment of the account had cleared many days previously.
The attendant called the manager. Mine Host cooled his heels for several minutes until the manager, a female aged about Thirty, appeared. She started off by asking Mine Host (in a none too friendly manner) how he intended to pay for the fuel that he had put in his car?
Mine Host indicated his Bippy card. The manager (obtusely) spoke to Mine Host as if he wasn't very smart, pedantically stating the he had to pay with either cash or one of several well known credit cards. Mine Host rarely carries any means of payment, and said so.
The manager (now with chin out) thrust a printed form onto the counter & stated (loudly) that being as his credit was cut off "for non payment of the account" and that he was refusing to pay, Mine Host was obliged to identify himself, and (right there in public) he would tell her his birthday, home address, full name, and prove all this by displaying his driver's licence.
This was too much. Carrying a Bippy fuel card, with "Wayside Tavern" branded on it, within sight of the Wayside Tavern (on the next block), and having paid the bill, Mine Host was now rather offended.
By now the entire shop full of queued fuel customers was intently watching & listening.
Mine Host would drop dead before he would tell most people, especially in public with other people watching & listening, his full name, home address and date of birth. And he said so.
The manager belligerently stated that if Mine Host did not, she would "call the cops". Unintimidated, Mine Host advised her that it was a free country and with or without his permission she could telephone to whomever she wished.
She disappeared, reappearing several minutes later to (with a smirk) inform Mine Host "they're on their way". Mine Host wasn't particularly interested in anything she had to say, and hadn't been since she stated out loud in public that he didn't pay his bills.
Meantime Mine Host had telephone his secretary, telling her what had happened, and asking her to pop down to the Bippy with $17.40 for him to pay the bill with.
In the interim a police car pulled alongside the shop, and Constable Concentration alighted. Entering the shop he was claimed by the manager, who commenced explaining the "crime" to him.
Mine Host paid little attention, knowing she would be busy for quite some before Constable Concentration grasped what business this affair was of the police's, if any.
Meantime secretary arrives, with $17.40 in cash, and paperwork to prove the account payment is up to date.
Mine Host then strolls over to where the manager is vainly attempting to explain the matter to an ever more flummoxed Constable Concentration. Mine Host leans past Constable Concetration, plonks the $17.40 on the counter, in a brittle voice instructs her that she will provide a receipt for payment, and thrusts at her a copy of the paperwork proving the account is paid, informs her that this proves the bill was paid, and that perhaps she should brush up on her facts before making loud public proclamations on the subject of Mine Host's bill paying proclivities. Mine Host went on to state that he would accept a written apology from her, and nothing less.
Then Constable Concentration, who as far as Mine Host was concerned wasn't involved, chimed in with an angry and most incorrect "hang on, it is not her fault, don't start getting stuck into her!"
Unable to believe (actually well able to believe) that someone could be so stupid, yet remain in the police force, Mine Host rounded on Constable Concentration & stated "When I require your advice, I'll make it abundantly clear to you, until then be quiet"
Then followed several seconds while every muscle in the officer's face contorted, creating a most amusing spectacle of varied facial expressions, all underlined by a most black cloud forming over his head.
He then spluttered something lame (most police have debating skills of zero, and if unable to arrest or write a ticket, make fools of themselves). Mine Host ignored him, gave the Bippy manager another free character assessment and left, but not before advising Constable Concentration to not overdo it and blow a gasket.
Since that date Mine Host has not darkened the door of a Bippy service station.
Mine Host now directs needy motorists to anywhere but Bippy, and though has made no comment to his staff, he notes that all 60 of them have been politic enough to not fill up at Bippy, ever.
From time to time Mine Host delights in reminding Bippy of this.
Mine Host did contact senior personnel at Bippy, who sealed his opinion by rounding on him for his "bad credit history". (Card refused Twice, you see) Then followed a most robust exchange of opinions, ensuring Mine Host is not forgotten by them. Good.
They may be "executives" (whatever that may mean) but they aren't smart enough to know that as a business ethos "the customer is always wrong" is taken them down the wrong path.
Every square inch of extra oil spill, every dollar of lost value, every dollar of cleanup cost, (all reported on the news) is music to Mine Host's ears.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Back it Up
Mine Host, when overseas a few years ago, was amused by many quirks of the country he was in. These quirks didn't worry him much, as he didn't have to live with these aberrations, there were merely another difference to enjoy.Amonst these quirks were the passenger side mirrors on motor vehicles. Instead of regular mirrors these were convex, and actually had the phrase "Objects in Mirror are Closer than they Appear"
Convex mirrors certainly give a wider field of view in the passenger side mirror, however they also make reversing using the passenger mirror rather difficult. Nigh on impossible to reliably reverse in a straight line.
What does it matter some greenhorn will ask? Plenty if reversing into a tight spot, or even into a parking bay between shed trusses.
Body tippers, twin steer bogey drives, were Mine Host's charge at one point in his life, and as anyone who has reversed trucks knows very well, using the passenger side mirror allows for far more accuracy in reversing, especially with larger machines.
One can image Mine Host's distress when upon returning to Australia he discovered that in his abscence passenger side mirrors had been "improved" from flat to convex!
Instead of hamstringing those who can drive, the law should instead penalise those who are unable to reverse properly.
Mine Host could (with a flat mirror) reverse for as far as you like, to within 2 inches laterally of a line, using the passenger side mirror, or within 6 inches using the driver's side mirror.
Not important the greenhorn may say.
Stick to your field of expertise Mine Host will say.
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