Bunnies Bugle

Dear all,

Speaking to a teen / early twenties lass who had approached me with a wood screw / self tapper, not much difference nowadays, wondering where she could find a nut to fit, I patiently explained that these did not fit to nuts but screwed directly to a medium. After further discussion I suggested that a machine screw or set screw as my father would call them might be what she required and established using a gauge, more for her benefit than mine, that her screw was closer to one eighth than any other size. I indicated the packages bearing the 1/8 symbol and under pressure from half a dozen other pleading petitioners, on this busy day when I was their only succour, was turning away when something in her expression told me that she understood my reference to one eighth no more than had I been speaking Latin. The idea that 1/8 is a fractional representation of a portion of antiquated measurement preserved to this day by conservative, god fearing, illiterate Americans is more than we should expect of any GenY, let alone that 1/8 represents the fraction one eighth, not one forward slash eight.

At the other end of this age and education spectrum I was approached by some nob TV presenter from backyard blitz wondering where we kept four inch hose. “What fire hose” I was about to ask, “panty hose, or do you want ducting you boofhead? Don’t you know that liquid is hosed and air is ducted? You should with the amount you let off.” But I was gazumped by four sycophantic red shirt groupies who didn’t mind how naked this make believe king of DIY was. Just as well too I suppose as the parting glower he gave me looked like he’d read my mind.

Catering to these extremes is the hardware giant flogging second grade trash and outright rubbish, capturing the market with low prices that put any competitor of integrity out of business leaving us all with no option than a trip to hell in a hand basket full of blister packed crap. Thank Nigel Bunnings has not yet gotten into the ballast business least our trains would surely sink right through to China where their nuts and bolts came from. Every day I thank him that I am at the latter rather than the founding end of my career in this business.

With the end of financial year immanent what remains of our banks of hours had to be paid out in the last pay period and along with some travel allowance that was part of my bargain for going all the way to Kirrawee that Saturday I had some three hundred dollars extra banked this week. It doesn’t seem like much I know but to one still getting use to the simple pleasures of regular pay even such small windfalls are a delight.

The recession doesn’t seem to be effecting Bunnings too badly we always seem to do nine to twelve percent better than budget. The figures are published daily on a white board upstairs. I have no problem with the daily takings but am very confused by the budget side of this equation. From where is this budget derived? Is it representative of the cost of running our store for that day including everything from purchasing stock, paying the wages, the insurance premiums, the lease, and all the myriad other costs of running such a business? If so then why does it vary so from day to day? Why is it always so much more expensive to open on Saturday than it is on Tuesday? Isn’t it strange that the budget fluctuates in a similar pattern to that of daily takings? I guess I’ll never know or understand the answers to these questions.

I still hold out hope for our annual bonus. We’re told the upper echelons of Westfarmer management have ruled out bonuses or wage hikes for themselves this year, bearing up stoically on their existing millions. They have not yet ruled out ours though. Danny the big boss, he whose integrity would require the services of a nanno scientist to defend or even detect, passed through the store today handing out postcard pictures of a backgammon set which had been intended as a reward for our successes over the last four months. He stopped this when he noticed how under whelmed we were and now the staff room is littered with pictures of backgammon sets with a ra-ra message on the back. The set itself may still arrive but as they say it’s the thought that counts and isn’t that true.

Flu shot season has come and gone without as much ballyhoo as usual. Now several staff are off on sick leave every day and rumours of swine flu circulate. These are given more credence by the mysterious return of hot water to the taps in the wash rooms after so many years.

I’m well, thank you for asking, and although not completely over my condition, we, it and I, have a better understanding of each other and have agreed to live with respect. I can also report that my bottom lip sting retreated as expected at the end of February, I haven’t felt the moth in hair effect for months but I have got a blood clot in my right nostril that I recall having had last winter. Mmmm! Another annual, don’t ask or even wonder how I know of its presence.

Best wishes to all,

Your loving aunty