Shire shenanigans

Well, as the Taliban tightened its grip and I concurred with ever growing beard I blessed the day my mother bore me male. I don’t think I could cope with the hijab style apron I’m sure Bunnings has on the drawing board. On Wednesday last, the first of my work week, I was greeted with the news that a big wig had captured myself and three other team members on film, congregating and discussing web downloads which sounded subversive and not at all like Bunnings dogma. This group was duly rounded up and given a lecture on their responsibility not to enjoy themselves in company on company time. The incriminating photo was circulated as evidence ‘item 1’ and it was noted that Wayne whose hair is certainly as grey as mine does not in fact have my face or regulation beard. None the less he was lectured and I, just as when I was apprehended by police in Roberts Road Greenacre, aged seventeen, for causing a motor vehicle to travel at a speed in excess of the limit, escaped reprimand by being out of the wrong place at the right time. At that time it was my sainted mother who had never driven a car nor experienced the exhilaration of speed who had borne the police lecture on my behalf.

By my Wednesday arrival priorities had changed and though resentment lingered over injustices at a staff (oops team) level, management had moved on and instead of reprimanding, begged me to serve my Saturday time at the new Kirrawee store as guest hardware expert. This brand new store (in Bath Street for the benefit of those of you from the Shire) which I learned had opened Monday week ago had been so overwhelmed by Shire folk bored by footballer’s shenanigans and the sterile nature of their environment on the previous weekend and I was being sent in the first line of reinforcement. Post bargain with an agreed extra hour and travel allowance I set out on this terminally overcast morn for a day in the shire.

Here the first thing to strike me was the half height roof on this barn at least equal in size to Mascot, in fact slightly larger I was to learn. This accompanied by at least twice as many lights at half the height presented a warm bright working environment that best of all was clean. Yes no blanket of TB infested Chinese dust here, not yet anyway. Separate staff toilets one and a half times the size of Mascot’s only toilet, with private shower were available only to those with the code for the very expensive digital locks guarding all staff areas. For one such as I who might spend more time more times a day in such facilities the relative calm is a godsend.

As the day got underway under looming skies to the east, a real panorama from this elevated position where on a clear day I venture that ocean glimpses are possible, an array of entertainments began to loom. Jumping castles, basket ball castles, wood turners, laughing clown games, fairy floss, face painters, coast guard, the Dulux dog and of course the inevitable sausage sizzle all clamoured for space and prayed that the rain would hold off. Well all but the coast guard I imagine who would have relished any calamity in which to tout its wares. When roadies from 2DAY FM arrived it looked very much like an over booking till they too settled for an outdoor location and prayed with the others.

Meanwhile inside, I met the other two ‘shelf hardware’ attendants for the day, Steve a Bunning’s veteran and John a new recruit who were joined about midday by young lady whose name I don’t recall. All queried often was it ever this busy at Mascot and I had to concede that it was a bit slower here than there where often I manage on my own. In the staff room enjoying my afternoon tea break I began to understand that the majority of this team were new recruits. There was none of the desultory cynicism, distain and contempt that pervades our recreation time, rather this Bunnings seemed an extension of Hillsong and these folk born again bunnies. When the brass band struck up mid afternoon just before the first inevitable downpour that sent all scattering I would not have been at all surprised if team had thrust their arms skyward waving cigarette lighters if such behaviour is not now politically incorrect.

All told it was a long day when starting an hour late meant ending similarly during which time I tried to help independent minded shire folk who mostly refused and failed ever to assemble more than two red shirts (a blood clot is vernacular for this) to discuss web downloads. I saw many Kellys out shopping for bath fittings with the folks but they mostly ignored me no doubt recognising my northern foreignness.

In other news I met Leo Sayer this week though I suspect I’m the last Sydneysider to do so.

Love you all

R






Here a couple of views of Walters window reveal which may almost be finished