Category: the daily column

So, total lack of posting, despite landing up in one of the biggest cities in the world. Hmmmmm.

But then, the compulsion to blog has disappeared a little while I discover the place for myself. Also, the hour that I previously had in the morning to get to work is gone, removing a significant source of contemplation time which was the source of so much laboured inspiration. On the other hand, sleeping in till 7:30 and still turning up at work at 8:30 isn’t too bad a deal :D (my internal clock no longer wakes me at 4:30 in the morning! yay!)

Been out and about doing all manner of things that I wouldn’t do in Sydney because I’d have had to find my way home late at night on the train (and avoid sleeping through to the last stop on the line). I like the London grads – they’re so ready to go out and have some fun =D Man, Sydney guys, pull your game up! Also loving the summer, even if it’s a half-arsed one by Aussie standards. Light till 9:30 and reasonable spring-ish weather gets anyone’s spirits up, right? =) In some ways this place reminds me of Melbourne, but the difference remains pretty fundamental.

Everyone sounds so “posh” here. I know, I know, there’s the unposh English accents, but I’ve already found myself mimicing the English accent here and there, and “half-eight” is so much more tempting to say than “eight-thirty” – it just sounds less prosaic. Pints are hard to get through though, and these guys clearly have a capacity that far surpasses mine – I’m letting down the hard-drinking Aussie rep. Sorry guys =(

Beyond that, still really trying to find my role here to settle into. At the moment, I remain a representative for the guys in Sydney more than anything, but there’s subtle pushes to doing more valueable stuff (in the sense that I’m not just arguing with the BA team), all the while hoping to avoid paralysis-by-analysis.

Um. I guess that’s the sum of it for now. Hopefully posting more frequently again =)

And the sky is…. (drumroll please)… grey as can be expected. yay.

There’s people wandering around on t-shirt and shorts. It’s about 16 degrees in the morning, with midday getting up to low twenties.  Summer? bah, I’ll believe it when I see blue skies and truly warm weather. This is like what it was about 3 weeks ago in Sydney, and that was late autumn.

I’m at 8 India St, apartment 12 (feel free to mail me! :D). It’s a studio, well kitted and about 10 min walk from work, which ain’t too bad. I just wish the sound insulation was better.

I woke up at about 6 this morning (if anything, before that, but that’s when I looked at the clock.) I’m not too far off getting into the right timezone, and yes, the business flight does help – I got at least 6 hours of sleep out of a 22 hour flight, so that’s gotta be worth something. Of course, I slept for about 8 hours yesterday too, and then 6 hours or so last night, so I think… I’m catching up some major sleep debt somewhere.

Anywho, to work!

So. Some may have heard I’m off to London. Some may also be wondering why I haven’t packed and left yet, mainly to shut my yapping about it. (It seems every second conversation I have these days is about the place/my imminent visit).

Indeed, I’ve already got my flight booked (June 9th) and a farewell of sorts organised (Drinks at the Argyle, Thu 7th), but the truth is… I’m still not sure when exactly I’m off. I’m waiting for my official visa (which consists of a residency permit and a work permit) to come back stamped from the embassy in Canberra, and that could arrive… on the 8th of June.

Which would be cutting it fine, to put it gently :) So I’m waiting and wishing the bureaucracy to be quick for once.

(Side note: The British embassy charges exorbitant rates to talk to a real person. We’re talking 1902-sex-line number here. I want to hang up the phone feeling really satisfied, paying $2.60 a minute. What a rort.)

I closed my Commonwealth Bank account today.

It just wasn’t a working relationship anymore. Something had changed, and I’d moved on – specifically, I’d moved on past uni and now there was a constant payment that had to be made. And there was just so little interest from them that I couldn’t help but feel ignored and abused.

In fact, I’d been two-timing for a while, making a relationship with another, who was much more interested in me. The last couple of months though, I’d been triple-timing, with yet another promising me everything CBA had decided they’d take away from me. And more!

But I couldn’t keep it up – eventually, one had to go, and the one that wasn’t getting a slice of the action, or even giving me a reason to put something in, was the one. It’d been a long relationship – we literally grew together, I a small and innocent youth barely knee high to a grasshopper, the account a Dollarmite, then a Club Australia, before finally maturing to a true Streamline.

I went in and asked to close my account – suddenly, I felt like the cruellest bastard around. The look of disappointment on the clerk’s face said it all; I wanted to take back my words, to leave the account open and just… keep everyone happy! But no, I steeled my heart, and let them know: the lack of interest was unacceptable, the fees too much, when someone else was offering it all, and more, for nothing. The clerk went about his business, and I kept wanting to apologise.

But he was a clever bastard – to really drive that knife in, he took me to the teller’s counter, and left me in the hands of a new trainee. This might have been the girl’s first real transaction. Here she was, fresh to the country, fresh to the job, fresh to the bank – and her first customer? Wants out. Wants nothing more to do with her. Oh how cruel.

I really just wanted to say “look, it’s not you – or me. It’s the company policies, and this really is a free market. Who knows, I might be back some day – if there’s one thing I can’t complain about, it’s that the service has always been exceptional.” It really was feeling like a breakup, and here I was involving this innocent. Couldn’t I do it from a nameless faceless machine?! Must you make me walk into the branch and feel so… dirty?

She finished up and handed my remaining balance over, and asked, ever hopeful, “Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”

I smirked at the irony. “No, but thank you. And good luck in your job.”

It wasn’t your fault, honest.

While I’m at it: “Once you pop, you can’t stop” – everyone knows that one, right?

Well I tested it. And you can – indeed you have to – stop, lest you die of salt-poisoning.

Now, I would never presume to advise negatively on fashion, but those “formal shorts” some of you are choosing to wear these days?

What are you, twelve?

After 5 years of driving, finally, I am licenced with no conditions! I can finally peel off that P plate which has been clinging to my car window for 3 years straight! I can hire a car! I can… drink before driving! (no, I kid, I kid, don’t drink and drive kids) I’m no longer going to be counted in the P plate statistics! No more tests! (NSW makes you do a test on the way out of P plate)

Insurance premium still sucks. Damn.

Three weeks and I’m off to London. For 6 whole months. I’m still not sure I’m ready… I’m still not sure I know what I’m getting myself into.

Yikes.

I’m flying business class, by the way.

Just thought I’d toss that in.

After a year and more working, I finally got that little ticket to true professionalism – the business card!

(strategically edited)
A whole lot of them actually!

So many I don’t know what to do with them. Hmmm.