Dirty Job #4

Working at a grain storage facility.

It was alright I suppose, but, score another point for college degree (seems to be a theme developing). Another job found for me by my handler, Michael the Orange Guy (yes, his new official nic-name), quite possibly the best of my birthday presents (in the sense that I actually had work)

At least I got along well with my boss.

So what did I do this time? Well, I cleaned the outside of a shed. Easy right? Well, if you think of “shed” in terms of that little 5x4 that you put your lawn mower and rake in the back yard… then ya, I suppose I could see why you would think it was easy, but… if you thought of shed as in the “store tons of grain and could fit the condo I grew up in, plus my house on Oxford, plus my Aussie home… well, slightly harder.

So, I spent the entire first day cleaning 3 out of 4 walls, and then the 2^nd and third days taking apart and then putting up a new 4^th wall.

I learned something new about me… ANY other time, put me in a basket, and then hoist me 30-50 feet in the air, no problem at all in the slightest and my Ealge-like awesomeness kicks in. Do so when I am dehydrated… hmmmm… ya… not so much. Though, after a few moments of the rocking back and forthness, I was alright and felt like a nance for complaining in the first place.

Being as the day’s events weren’t extremely eventful…

I’ll leave you with this story that my boss told me:

“After the War, there was a high tax on a lot of different produce that would have normally gone to the soldiers. Well, Nestle comes to me ol’ man and asks him if he can get them X number of almonds.

“So him and his mates get together, pick the amount asked of them, so they did, and where all happy that they had a big pay day coming to them.

“Then they get a call from this guy from the government. Turns out he come down to Wagga asking for all this tax. So my old man goes down there, and meets one of his mates, and asks, ‘where is this government guy?’

“his mate tells him, ‘down at the pub’

“ ‘well what did I come down here for if he’s just at the bloody pub?!’

“ ‘(what’s his name) has him down there buying him beers, now, in a little bit, you go down there, and you start buying that bastard some beers, and tell (what’s his name) that we need him here, then I’ll go in, and we switch out again’

“so my old man goes down to the pub and starts shouting drinks for him till his mate come and switch out with him, then his other mate switch out with him, and my dad go back in… well, eventually, they drink this poor bastard under the table. He is so pissed drunk that the three of them pick him up, and carry him just down the block to the train station, get him on the next train going to Sydney and paid one of the guys ten quid to throw him out when the train got to Sydney.

“And ya know what? They never heard another word about that money ever again”

Anyway, funny stories from Aussies, thought I’d share.