St. Kilda Road.
Is a beautiful boulevard, wide like the Murray River. The trams both inbound and outbound run through the middle, as traffic roars alongside the tracks. Then you have the service lanes on either side, which in fact are just busy thoroughfares. In between the main road and the service roads are nature strips, these are inhabited by large 100 year old elms, which line the whole length from St. Kilda to the city of Melbourne. In summer it makes for a very welcome relief from the scorching sun, come winter there is a melancholy beauty that uplifts the spirit.
Big business has unfortunately encroached on this European idyll. Over the years global monsters like Mobil, Hewlett Packard and other multinationals have taken up residence. Once stood grand old itlalianate mansions and curvy art-deco apartment buildings, now these bygone sanctuaries are shadowed by unimaginative designed eyesores. I now work in one of these monstrosities. Located right next to the now, derelict Chevron Hotel.
At 7:21am Monday to Friday I take a bus journey from Brighton to Albert Park. On the way I get the grand tour of Gardenvale, Elsternwick, Ripponlea and Prahran. This 35 - 40 minute journey is by far the most pleasurable part of the day. Depending on the driver and vehicle, I may get a sunny and smooth journey. At other times it can be a jerky and shuddering affair.
Unique to traveling on the bus has one idiosyncrasy that has me baffled. The greeting and thanking of the driver when stepping on and alighting. Even if the journey has been terrifying and you have bruises from the battering of hard plastic and glass, it's always "thanks driver" you fucking imbecile ! Then I limp home.
_____________________________________________
My return as a corporate slave was not without doubts. I knew what I was stepping back into, so I'm now back to the familiar sad looking sack I've always been.
The office culture is one I have never got used to, even after fifteen years ! The brilliant satirical British series "The Office" is so close to the bone it scares me. The managerial language so familiar today such as "proactive", "key performance indicators", attrition rate. Glossy big names that hide the tragedy and manipulation of peoples lives. Books disguising the real message of personal development such as "Fish" and "Who moved the Cheese" are encouraged for staff to read, but in reality is brainwashing which benefits the company only.
_____________________________________________
I started off well enough in my current position, but then a depressing tone instigated by managerial staff with poor personal skills, laid the foundations of my current status.
First there was the run-in with my trainer, a very pale and serious young lady with jet black manga-like hair. When I was confronted with her brusque and abrasive attitude I may as well have been back at the Christian Brothers.
Now, I have always been one with a good threshold for pain and painful people. But there is a limit. On one sunny spring morning whilst my "subject matter expert" was starting one of her little "lectures" she was cut down with a verbal scythe of mental cruelty. A daisy cutter of emotional fascism.
I didn't see my dour little coach for a few days. When she returned "refreshed" my "pinpoint coaching" was reviewed via e-mail only.
But this was just a warm up, for the next test of vascular tolerance was yet to come.
My team leader is a mid-fifties lady, with a face that tells many a sorry tale. Probably, she cut a desirable figure once, now down-turned lines following the corners of her mouth are a testament to bitterness, disappointment and an iron maiden-like defence shield that is always on high alert.
Stylishly dressed and flushed with power, she takes long authoritarian strides ,swiveling her head like a bower bird keeping everyone in check. It is so painful to hear her direct orders delivered in high-detail specifics. In my first one-on-one, (these are the monthly interviews to make sure your measures are being met) I gave a brief summary of my first disappointing month with the company. This set her alarm bells ringing as I sparred verbally. When I caught her up on a couple of items, I would see a millisecond of pure hatred transform her face into one of a demon. It was all too much. I gave notice.
The next day a hasty appointment was made with Human Resources and in a confused and emotional state I was persuaded to stay.
I have now found out I sit in what is known as the "ejector seat" which is haunted by the ghosts of "Max" and "Dennis"; poor souls who looked forlornly out the window as the end drew nearer.
Part of my duties are closing accounts of deceased estates. I seem to be the one that gravitates towards these cases. Part of the documentation that is sent in are the death certificates (to prove that they are indeed dead). Miranda, my demonic team leader, once again getting into the finer details on "correcting" ny notes.
"Michael, you always put the date of death in the narrative, that is when the account is final and no trips can therefore be taken on the tollway"
"Yes, Miranda and there's nothing quite final like death, is there ?" (Millisecond flash of hatred across her dial)
_____________________________________________
As the weather has warmed I have found a new liberation of the mind. No longer do I feel the pressure of managers and "measures". I do the job as accurate as I can manage at a pace that I am comfortable with. I don't take shortcuts and have always been punctual and reliable. Though, the crosshairs have been targeted and my days are numbered.
This job has been the final "wake-up" for me. I am faced with the same dilemmas that I have been experiencing for the past few years. A job that is complicated, monotonous and poorly paid.
_____________________________________________
There are many things I still want to achieve in this life. Writing a book, creating huge black and white works, just a couple of the many projects that float in my constant humming mind.
Even though this world has shown it can be terrifying and full of woe, I still find it beautiful and fascinating and am in constant wonder. I still have books I want to read, entries to write, places to see, sensations to absorb.
One thing that has been on my mind constantly is going back to study, to get a real education, just to have some choices.
It is one thing to do something you love, it is another being a slave for a wage amongst the living dead.
Reading/Read : Veronika decides to die:Paulo Coelho
Disgrace: J.M.Coetzee
DVD's : Matrix Reloaded, Best in Show, The Ring,
T.V : South Park, Kath and Kim, Meet the Ancestors, The Life of Mammals, Dynasties, Garden Australia, Burke's Backyard.
Listening to: Roberta Flack, Movie soundtrack to "Shine", Buddah Bar 3
