Having now been living in Melbourne for just under four months, life has become rather routine, or as routine as I will allow my life to get. Living in the heart of such a large metropolis definitely has its perks (activities, events, drinking spots, homeless people, and homosexuals in abundance), but every so often one finds the urge to want to escape. So to combat this problem, back in January I decided for Leeanna’s birthday I would give her a post-dated trip to Tasmania if you will. So a couple of weeks ago we finally got the details all sorted out and made the trek down to Australia’s version of Keswick, Tasmania.
After ironing out all the details, we decided that we would leave for Tasmania early on a Tuesday morning and return on a Thursday night, as Leeanna had to work on both the Monday and the Friday. This made for some very hectic scheduling, but I being the slice of awesomeness that I am, concluded that this would be an adequate amount of time to see what we needed to see. The plan was to fly into Hobart (the capital city of Tassie), stay there for the first day and night and then rent a car and drive out to historic Port Arthur and up to Launceston (other major city, about 2.5 hours from Hobart) where we would fly out of on Thursday night. That was the plan, yes my great plan for our romantic whirl-wind tour of the exotic island of Tasmania.
But here is how it really played out…
Our flight out on Tuesday morning was scheduled bright and early at 6:00am, which meant waking up before 4:00am in order to catch the shuttle bus to the airport. I was able to grab a few hours sleep the night before, but I’m pretty sure that Leeanna had almost no sleep at all and was quite frustrated. Anyways, we boarded the shuttle bus to the airport and on the way it hit me, “fuck, I forgot my driver’s license”! In my dozy state that morning I had forgotten to pack it, which therefore was going to render it impossible for me to rent a car. This dramatically changed the outlook of the trip and how we were going to get about. The flight to Hobart was pretty uneventful, minus the three Irish guys behind me on the plane drinking beers at 6:30am and taking about the escort service they had just opened up (true story!). After dropping our bags off at our hostel (Central City Backpackers [6.5/10]) in the city centre and grabbing some breakfast, we headed over to the local Information Centre to book a group tour to Port Arthur the next day and a bus up to Launceston the following evening. All of this ended up setting me back a few hundred dollars, although it was all my fault for not packing my license. This trip was decidedly becoming a lot more expensive without that little piece of plastic. So as not to totally empty out my bank account, I decided that we should head out to Mount Wellington for the day to do some nice, casual nature walking. After catching the public bus out there and consulting with one of the local’s about what route to take, we set out on our climb to the summit, which was 1200 metres above sea level. It ended up being a fairly tough 3.5 hour climb almost exclusively uphill and was made worse by the fact that we were ill-equipped as we did not have proper clothing, any food, or any beverages. All we had was each other…oh and an empty paper coffee cup to fill up at the one tap half way up the mountain. Leeanna kept frequently wanting to quit and turn around, but me being the asshole boyfriend that I am made here continue on. She responded by sitting down/stopping every few minutes and trying to thoroughly test my patience. When we finally did reach the top, we were quite gassed and all I could do was laugh because 99% of the people at the top had driven up there, no doubt more than a few of them in their rental cars. After hiking down (with a lot less stops along the way) we finally made it back to the base for a grand total round trip time of around six hours. Both of us had extremely sore legs and would continue to feel the effects for the remainder of trip in Tasmania. That night, we went out for dinner at a place called the New Sydney Pub, which was a fairly typical smallish-busy Irish pub. We were supposed to go to some joint call the Republic Bar that my friend/co-worker Anthony’s dad owns. Since we could barely walk though, we had to opt for the Irish fare close to the hostel. Also, I was a bit sketched out about it being his dad’s bar, as this was Tasmania, and any Aussie worth his weight in salt knows that it was very likely his dad could have also been his cousin, brother, and family pet all rolled into one.
Wednesday morning we got up bright and early to catch our tour bus out to Port Arthur, which can best be described as Australia’s version of Alcatraz. The drive out to Port Arthur was a couple of hours and featured some stops along the way to take pictures of things like cool rock formations, scenic coastlines, and a village where every house had a nametag on it that had the word “do” in it (ie/ Do Nothing, Doo-Doo, Mountain Dew, Douche Bag, etc.). Once Leeanna and I and our tour bus full our senior citizens arrived at Port Arthur we were free to roam about the grounds and give ourselves a history lesson, which proved to be quite a chore for Leeanna and I, as both of us had legs that felt like cement blocks from the day before. Port Arthur was basically a place where they would send criminals who had reoffended in Australia, which was quite a dubious distinction since the whole mainland of the country was made up of criminals at that time in history. Most of the buildings there now are fairly decrepit, but the history behind it all is quite fascinating. We were also given a guided walking tour and a boat cruise around the very scenic harbor, which all added up to one very educational day. After sleeping on the bus the whole way back to Hobart, we hopped on another bus to make the drive up Launceston as that is where our flight was leaving from the next morning. The drive featured a whole lot of nothing, save for some sheep. We arrived in Launceston at around 7:30pm and checked into our hotel (yes, a hotel for once!) (Batman Fawkner Inn [8/10]). Next up we headed over to one of the local establishments that was serving pitchers of Carlton Draught on the cheap. Between and 8pm and 9pm they were $8, between 9pm and 10pm they were $9, etc. Needless to say, a few hours later I smuggled a full pitcher out of the bar that I promptly stashed on a street corner while I went in search of food. After some delicious wedges (cannot actually verify if they were delicious as I was intensely drunk at this point) the girlfriend and I made our way back to the hotel and scooped up my pitcher that was still resting peacefully in the street. And then…BLACKOUT!
Thursday morning, I woke up with one of the worst hangovers of my life. I was buck-ass naked which meant something was wrong as I always wear clothes to bed and felt like I had just been sat on by Rosie O’Donnell. When I finally was able to move a couple of inches, I saw my still full pitcher of beer staring at me from across the hotel room. Sure seemed like a good idea to steal it the night before! I slowly made my way to the shower/toilet and started to try and get ready for the day. During this time, the dude who runs the hotel came to the room and told Leeanna we had to check out, as I had not surprisingly overslept the checkout time. After finally getting my ass in gear, we decided to not follow through on our original plan of doing a tour of the James Boag’s Brewery (one of the more popular beers in Australia). I felt that this was in the best interest of all, as the sight or smell of beer would have been enough to send me into a vomit-inducing state. Instead, we headed over to Launceston’s most popular tourist attraction, “The Gorge” which features the world’s longest chairlift and some gorgeous scenery. Naturally we went for a ride on the chairlift, and I can now knock another thing off my bucket list. Pretty sure “ride the world’s longest chairlift” was right up there with “read every R.L. Stine book ever written” on my list. After walking back to our hotel, we were again thoroughly spent, as our legs were still feeling the ill effects of our mountain hike and I was still feeling the effects of draft beer. We decided to pass the afternoon away in one of the local parks that curiously had a large display of Japanese monkeys that kept Leeanna quite amused. After the monkeys, it was nap time in the park, followed by a trip to the airport and then back home to the comfy confines of Melbourne.
All in all, the trip ended up costing me a lot more money than I had anticipated because of my own stupidity. I can now say a couple of weeks later that I am none the worse for it, and can laugh rather heartily about my time in Tasmania.
Author’s note: No, I did not see any Tasmanian Devils, although I think I may have seen a dead one on the side of the road. We were going to visit the Tasmanian Devil Sanctuary, but this was thrown out the window when I was unable to rent the car.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010- The Randomness That Is Life Down Under
As previously stated in my reports to the Pentagon and Chief Obama, this will be my last blog of playing catch-up and trying to remember stuff as it happened in the somewhat distant past. So without further mumblings, here in no particular order are a bunch of words that shall have no effect on human-kind as anyone knows it.
First and foremost, I have to give my shout-outs to all of the Canadian athletes who competed at this year’s Olympics. It was truly a great thing to watch, and our country, athletes, and hospitality were widely praised by all involved in the Australian Olympic coverage. My only gripe was the rather bizarre incident this morning involving the gold medal hockey match between the States and Canada. Instead of airing the game live at 7am local time Monday morning, they started the telecast at 9am with ten minutes left in the third period. And then after the game, they decided to show the whole game in its entirety starting from the beginning with everyone already knowing the outcome. Rather shitty, but other than that the coverage was good and a pleasant surprise to my usual viewing of Crocodile Hunter and music videos from INXS and Kylie Minogue.
Now a complete 180° turn. Since moving into our digs at 146/546 Flinders Street, the Boss and I have seen many holidays come and go, none of which I have reported on for the sad reason of most of them being fairly uneventful. Christmas was spent with us making chicken and instant mashed potatoes as we do not have an oven to cook a turkey. Pretty sure it concluded with us watching the Tim Allen Santa Clause movies on the tele. New Year’s was even less climatic, as I had to work all night at the restaurant in order to put food on the plates of my wife and three kids back home in El Salvador. Sorry, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to mention my illegitimate love children and their whore-of-a-mother in this blog (No disrespect to my non-existent Hispanic fan base). Valentine’s Day was also fairly uneventful, as just like New Year’s it’s a big one on the restaurant slave calendar and involved a whole lot of serving up third-rate pasta dishes. Leeanna had to settle for an early morning V-Day breakfast at the Pancake Parlour (I’m classy like that). One holiday (at least she’ll have you believe it should be recognized as one) that I was forced to take off work was Leeanna’s birthday. We started by going out for a nice dinner up on Lygon Street in the suburb of Carlton, which is famous for all of its restaurants. After downing some tasty steak and two litres of wine we made our way over to the bar Young and Jackson downtown for some awesome cover music and a whole lot more boozing. Let’s just say $200 dollars later I was doing somersaults in the apartment, while leaving our passports in the hallway of the building for no good reason. I also thought I had lost the keys to the apartment and Leeanna made me believe she found them out in the middle of the street a few blocks from our apartment. I believed her, and the truth didn’t come out for a few days, that I in fact had given the keys to her earlier in our very hazy evening. Wine + Jager + Beer + Midori + Vodka = Fine Form. My parents must be proud. Lindsey Lohan ain’t got shit on me!!!
I would also like to state that I survived the hottest night ever in Melbourne (okay, in 100 years) with no air conditioning in my apartment. The temperatures in Melbourne vary greatly in the summer months, with some days in the teens and windy (today) and some reaching up into the forties. Back in the summer of 2009, they had a stretch of close to a full week where the daytime temperatures were pushing close to 50°C every day and led to forest fires across the country and hundreds of deaths if I’m not mistaken. Luckily, this year we have only had one such day so far, where it reached a daytime temperature of around 45°C. Needless to say, I thought I was going to die, and it only got worse at night, as the temperature only dropped slightly below forty, thus making it the hottest night in over 100 years in Melbourne. What can I say; I was a part of modern history, right up there with Martin Luther King Jr. Seriously though, if you want to test your survival and relationship skills try sleeping on the fifteenth floor of an apartment building with no air conditioning, a shitty $10 fan, and no air circulation. Never have I enjoyed multiple cold showers and shrinkage quite so much in my life.
Now it’s time for a totally random story to be inserted in my tales, which I thought I should include because I can. Keep in mind that this all happened in under ten minutes. To begin, Leeanna and I had been enjoying a couple of beverages at the Crown Casino and were also stalking this trans-gender man-woman-transsexual-ladyboy for our amusement. After watching her/him for sometime try and pick up some unsuspecting dudes in the sports bar (not the best hunting grounds for these types I hear) we set about on our three minute walk home. Upon exiting the casino, we witnessed a total “Cops” moment as there was puke all over the sidewalk and about ten coppers arresting and attempting to subdue this crazy white trash woman. She was flailing around and giving it to them while her boyfriend or husband looked on in his clearly drink and drug induced fog. As we set on towards the apartment, we somehow befriended this really drunk guy from Tasmania and started chatting him up. As we crossed a really busy intersection, Mr. Too-Drunk-To-See-Straight just walked right out into oncoming traffic totally ignoring us at this point and came within a hair of getting engraved in the asphalt right before my eyes. A group of police officers on the other side of the road patrolling the area started giving the guy shit and tried to ask him what the fuck he was doing. At the same time the officers were attempting to corral the drunko, someone in the hostel window above where the cops were standing on the sidewalk decided to dump a pail of some liquid (think/hope it was water for their sake) out their window and directly onto the pre-occupied officers below. I am not sure if it was intentional or not, but Leeanna and I found this quite amusing and the cops were pissed. All-in-all it was an entertaining ten minutes that I am thinking of turning into a short musical, entitled, “Ladyboy, White Trash, and The Patrolling Pigs” (just a working title).
Lastly, I must briefly touch on my short-lived construction career in Australia. Serving in a restaurant in one of the more touristy areas of Melbourne has allowed me to meet people from all over Australia and the world. I do get some Canadians and Americans, and naturally our accents draw each other to inquire about one another’s circumstances, not unlike a mighty humpback whale’s mating call. Not sure if that analogy made any sense at all, but whatever I’m all jacked up on Monster Energy drinks as I write this. Regardless, one such customer from Cambridge, Ontario told me that he was in Melbourne on business, providing his expertise in building ice hockey rinks. Turns out, they were building the future home of the Australian Winter Olympic Training Facilities not far from where I was working. The gentleman came into the restaurant a few times (at this point aware of my carpentry background back home) and kept urging me to get in touch with the carpenters on site. I proved to be a little skeptical, as I did not really want to work construction in Australia, as I am lazy and did not want to go through the grind of having a “regular” job. With a couple of days off at my other job and some nudging, I finally went into the arena and was introduced to the Irish man who would be my boss for the next four days. I told him I did not have any tools yet, as I had not been working as a carpenter in Australia. He said it was okay and that I could just buy some in due time. I was able to score a free pair of work boots off of the Canadian supervisor as he was going home the day I started and recognized that I was probably living in poverty from my job at the restaurant. A very kind gesture nonetheless. Anyways, I was put right to work and ended up working eighteen hours my first day! Over the next four days I worked a total of close to fifty hours in addition to working at the restaurant two of the nights. The whole experience was really fucking weird to put it bluntly. I mean, here I am, this Canadian guy, working with a crew made up of all Irish guys who are here on work visas (Ireland’s economy has shit the bag and there’s no work for tradesmen there), building this world-class hockey rink and training facility in Australia. In the end, I was so burnt out by Friday night and never called my boss Flann over the weekend. He never called me either, and I decided right then and there that I was done with construction for the time being. I sure as hell didn’t come to Australia to work myself into an early grave. I got the rest of my life back home to do that! In the end, the people in the office paid me ($28 an hour, which was a pleasant surprise!) no questions asked and I haven’t heard from anyone in the company since. In conclusion, the extra money from those four days has come in quite handy and if I feel myself slipping too far into the lower reaches of society on my pittance of a restaurant wage I can always attempt to find a construction job. Oh, and I can add, “Australian Winter Olympic Training Facility Builder” to my resume. No big deal.
On that note, I am off for another shift at the oh-so stimulating restaurant this evening, before we have to get up bright and early at 3:30am to catch our 6am flight to Hobart, Tasmania in the morning for a short vacation.
Also, with God as my witness, I herby solemnly swear to never make fun of Sidney Crosby’s moustache or facial hair growth again! Put the kid on a stamp, and let’s declare February 28 as a national holiday.
Much love everyone, ~Brent~
First and foremost, I have to give my shout-outs to all of the Canadian athletes who competed at this year’s Olympics. It was truly a great thing to watch, and our country, athletes, and hospitality were widely praised by all involved in the Australian Olympic coverage. My only gripe was the rather bizarre incident this morning involving the gold medal hockey match between the States and Canada. Instead of airing the game live at 7am local time Monday morning, they started the telecast at 9am with ten minutes left in the third period. And then after the game, they decided to show the whole game in its entirety starting from the beginning with everyone already knowing the outcome. Rather shitty, but other than that the coverage was good and a pleasant surprise to my usual viewing of Crocodile Hunter and music videos from INXS and Kylie Minogue.
Now a complete 180° turn. Since moving into our digs at 146/546 Flinders Street, the Boss and I have seen many holidays come and go, none of which I have reported on for the sad reason of most of them being fairly uneventful. Christmas was spent with us making chicken and instant mashed potatoes as we do not have an oven to cook a turkey. Pretty sure it concluded with us watching the Tim Allen Santa Clause movies on the tele. New Year’s was even less climatic, as I had to work all night at the restaurant in order to put food on the plates of my wife and three kids back home in El Salvador. Sorry, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to mention my illegitimate love children and their whore-of-a-mother in this blog (No disrespect to my non-existent Hispanic fan base). Valentine’s Day was also fairly uneventful, as just like New Year’s it’s a big one on the restaurant slave calendar and involved a whole lot of serving up third-rate pasta dishes. Leeanna had to settle for an early morning V-Day breakfast at the Pancake Parlour (I’m classy like that). One holiday (at least she’ll have you believe it should be recognized as one) that I was forced to take off work was Leeanna’s birthday. We started by going out for a nice dinner up on Lygon Street in the suburb of Carlton, which is famous for all of its restaurants. After downing some tasty steak and two litres of wine we made our way over to the bar Young and Jackson downtown for some awesome cover music and a whole lot more boozing. Let’s just say $200 dollars later I was doing somersaults in the apartment, while leaving our passports in the hallway of the building for no good reason. I also thought I had lost the keys to the apartment and Leeanna made me believe she found them out in the middle of the street a few blocks from our apartment. I believed her, and the truth didn’t come out for a few days, that I in fact had given the keys to her earlier in our very hazy evening. Wine + Jager + Beer + Midori + Vodka = Fine Form. My parents must be proud. Lindsey Lohan ain’t got shit on me!!!
I would also like to state that I survived the hottest night ever in Melbourne (okay, in 100 years) with no air conditioning in my apartment. The temperatures in Melbourne vary greatly in the summer months, with some days in the teens and windy (today) and some reaching up into the forties. Back in the summer of 2009, they had a stretch of close to a full week where the daytime temperatures were pushing close to 50°C every day and led to forest fires across the country and hundreds of deaths if I’m not mistaken. Luckily, this year we have only had one such day so far, where it reached a daytime temperature of around 45°C. Needless to say, I thought I was going to die, and it only got worse at night, as the temperature only dropped slightly below forty, thus making it the hottest night in over 100 years in Melbourne. What can I say; I was a part of modern history, right up there with Martin Luther King Jr. Seriously though, if you want to test your survival and relationship skills try sleeping on the fifteenth floor of an apartment building with no air conditioning, a shitty $10 fan, and no air circulation. Never have I enjoyed multiple cold showers and shrinkage quite so much in my life.
Now it’s time for a totally random story to be inserted in my tales, which I thought I should include because I can. Keep in mind that this all happened in under ten minutes. To begin, Leeanna and I had been enjoying a couple of beverages at the Crown Casino and were also stalking this trans-gender man-woman-transsexual-ladyboy for our amusement. After watching her/him for sometime try and pick up some unsuspecting dudes in the sports bar (not the best hunting grounds for these types I hear) we set about on our three minute walk home. Upon exiting the casino, we witnessed a total “Cops” moment as there was puke all over the sidewalk and about ten coppers arresting and attempting to subdue this crazy white trash woman. She was flailing around and giving it to them while her boyfriend or husband looked on in his clearly drink and drug induced fog. As we set on towards the apartment, we somehow befriended this really drunk guy from Tasmania and started chatting him up. As we crossed a really busy intersection, Mr. Too-Drunk-To-See-Straight just walked right out into oncoming traffic totally ignoring us at this point and came within a hair of getting engraved in the asphalt right before my eyes. A group of police officers on the other side of the road patrolling the area started giving the guy shit and tried to ask him what the fuck he was doing. At the same time the officers were attempting to corral the drunko, someone in the hostel window above where the cops were standing on the sidewalk decided to dump a pail of some liquid (think/hope it was water for their sake) out their window and directly onto the pre-occupied officers below. I am not sure if it was intentional or not, but Leeanna and I found this quite amusing and the cops were pissed. All-in-all it was an entertaining ten minutes that I am thinking of turning into a short musical, entitled, “Ladyboy, White Trash, and The Patrolling Pigs” (just a working title).
Lastly, I must briefly touch on my short-lived construction career in Australia. Serving in a restaurant in one of the more touristy areas of Melbourne has allowed me to meet people from all over Australia and the world. I do get some Canadians and Americans, and naturally our accents draw each other to inquire about one another’s circumstances, not unlike a mighty humpback whale’s mating call. Not sure if that analogy made any sense at all, but whatever I’m all jacked up on Monster Energy drinks as I write this. Regardless, one such customer from Cambridge, Ontario told me that he was in Melbourne on business, providing his expertise in building ice hockey rinks. Turns out, they were building the future home of the Australian Winter Olympic Training Facilities not far from where I was working. The gentleman came into the restaurant a few times (at this point aware of my carpentry background back home) and kept urging me to get in touch with the carpenters on site. I proved to be a little skeptical, as I did not really want to work construction in Australia, as I am lazy and did not want to go through the grind of having a “regular” job. With a couple of days off at my other job and some nudging, I finally went into the arena and was introduced to the Irish man who would be my boss for the next four days. I told him I did not have any tools yet, as I had not been working as a carpenter in Australia. He said it was okay and that I could just buy some in due time. I was able to score a free pair of work boots off of the Canadian supervisor as he was going home the day I started and recognized that I was probably living in poverty from my job at the restaurant. A very kind gesture nonetheless. Anyways, I was put right to work and ended up working eighteen hours my first day! Over the next four days I worked a total of close to fifty hours in addition to working at the restaurant two of the nights. The whole experience was really fucking weird to put it bluntly. I mean, here I am, this Canadian guy, working with a crew made up of all Irish guys who are here on work visas (Ireland’s economy has shit the bag and there’s no work for tradesmen there), building this world-class hockey rink and training facility in Australia. In the end, I was so burnt out by Friday night and never called my boss Flann over the weekend. He never called me either, and I decided right then and there that I was done with construction for the time being. I sure as hell didn’t come to Australia to work myself into an early grave. I got the rest of my life back home to do that! In the end, the people in the office paid me ($28 an hour, which was a pleasant surprise!) no questions asked and I haven’t heard from anyone in the company since. In conclusion, the extra money from those four days has come in quite handy and if I feel myself slipping too far into the lower reaches of society on my pittance of a restaurant wage I can always attempt to find a construction job. Oh, and I can add, “Australian Winter Olympic Training Facility Builder” to my resume. No big deal.
On that note, I am off for another shift at the oh-so stimulating restaurant this evening, before we have to get up bright and early at 3:30am to catch our 6am flight to Hobart, Tasmania in the morning for a short vacation.
Also, with God as my witness, I herby solemnly swear to never make fun of Sidney Crosby’s moustache or facial hair growth again! Put the kid on a stamp, and let’s declare February 28 as a national holiday.
Much love everyone, ~Brent~
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010- My Life Of Crime
This will be my second last blog where I am playing catch-up, as I have been for the last two-and-a-half months. I freely admit this has been due to sheer laziness and the fact that I would rather watch Dr. Phil and Oprah. I hereby solemnly swear to myself that I shall make a valiant effort to track my travels/life week to week in Australia rather than trying to remember events months after they happened. On that note, Leeanna and I are going to be taking a 3-day trip down to the island of Tasmania (yes, where the Tasmanian Devil is from) next week and hopefully I feel energetic enough to write a report upon our return.
In the mean time though…
Due to the fact that I make very little money at my job, I must admit I along with my girlfriend (okay, mostly me) have turned to petty crime in an attempt to save money Down Under. First and foremost, we generally never pay for the tram services which travel all over the city and cost between $3 and $4 per ride. Your tickets only get checked if an inspector comes on the tram, in which case you will be fined $160 for not having a valid ticket. In the last few weeks Leeanna and I have started to ride around with blank tickets (inactivated) you can buy from 7-11 convenience stores that you don’t activate until you put them into the machine on the tram. We simply just never activate them and figure that if we get caught we will play dumb with the tram inspectors, as we are just “tourists” and didn’t know any better. For the first couple of months we lived here we would just buy tickets occasionally, and luckily the one day we were checked we had both randomly decided to buy tickets as we were heading north of the city into uncharted territory. Other than that, Leeanna has been checked one time on her own and again luckily she had a ticket (couple months ago). We haven’t purchased a legitimate ticket in weeks though, and I am curious to see what is going to happen to us the first time we get caught. So far I reckon the total savings on tram tickets to be well over $200, and the tally only grows by the day! CRIMINAL!
Another scam I am running on the regular is trying to pocket tips at my place of work. Normally all of our tips are supposed to go into a jar at the front of the restaurant, where it is then divided amongst the employees on a week-to-week basis. I generally get less than $40 per week which is totally ridiculous considering the amount of tips I generate sometimes (especially on weekends). I suspect the owners pocket a lot of the money and give more to their “favourite” employees. I try to grab whatever I can out of my bill folds if no one is looking, although since the holiday season my direct tips have gone way down. Most nights I leave with nothing, although there are still the occasional nights where I can pull down anywhere from $1 to $35. A lot of luck of the draw with customers, etc as tipping is the exception and not the rule here. All-in-all I reckon I’ve been able to pull down an extra few hundred dollars in my time at the restaurant through “tip-pocketing/jamming tips in my pocket when no one is around” which I have no doubt pumped right back into Melbourne’s bar and restaurant economy. Sadly, the other night I also stole some cutlery from the restaurant for personal use at home. I have been trying to steal drinking glasses and plates as well, but so far have been unsuccessful at finding an apt moment to smuggle them into the backroom and into my backpack. Sad and pathetic, yes I know. CRIMINAL!
Probably the activity I am most ashamed/proud of is the one I pulled off the other day. It all started when I had to go buy a new pair of shoes for work as my old pair had become worn out. I trekked over to the Big W (think Wal-Mart) and found a pair I liked for $36. In a brief moment of genius/absurd cheapness I decided that I would switch the price tag on the shoes with that of a pair that were only $16. I figured no one would ever catch on (unless they were watching the security cameras) as I would casually go through the self check-out and be on my way. The one thing I didn’t count on/remember from my time at Home Depot is that the self check-out machines recognize the weight of items, and the shoes I was purchasing were a lot heavier than the ones I had stolen the tag off of. Sure enough, a cashier had to come over when I had an “unexpected item in bagging area” and started to have grandeur visions of spending my night in Australian jail for trying to save $20 on shitty work shoes. After what seemed like an eternity (was probably 5 seconds) the cashier looked in my bag, saw that they were in fact shoes I was buying and promptly fixed it up for me. I breathed a sigh of relief; giggling to myself the whole way out the store thinking about how pathetically low I had just stooped in my quest to save myself $20. CRIMINAL!
My last great scam is not really so much a scam as much it was an observation I had made over time and seeing the opportunity to capitalize on said observation. The last three weeks Leeanna and I have been going to the movies on Tuesday afternoons at the Crown Casino. The last two weeks we bought tickets from the box office on the lower level and noticed that when you go up the escalators to the theatres there was no one checking tickets. Sure enough when we went to the movies again this week (“Shutter Island”, awesome film!), we scoped out the top of the escalators and saw that no one was checking tickets. Therefore we just walked right up casually and tried to figure out which of the eight theatres was showing “Shutter Island” (they don’t have a display outside each entrance telling you what’s playing inside, as it normally tells you on your ticket!). We found it by following what looked like the type and size of crowd that would be watching that film and voila, we were in like sin! I reckon I may try and do this all the time during the weekdays when I go to the movies, as it isn’t possible at night as they employ their ticket-checkers. CRIMINAL!
Anyways, I must be off to go and hit up every 7-11 store in the area (there’s like 15 within a 10 minute walk of my apartment) to load up on Monster Energy drinks. They are having a one day sale, where they are selling them for $1 each (limit of 8 per customer, per store), which is a great deal considering they normally sell for $4.30 per can. I’ve already bought 8 this morning and definitely see some more cans on the horizon this afternoon! I love caffeine! I’m sure Leeanna will be amused when she gets home from work.
On that note, if anyone doesn’t here from for a while, just assume I have been locked up in jail for petty crime and should hopefully see you in twenty-five to life!
In the mean time though…
Due to the fact that I make very little money at my job, I must admit I along with my girlfriend (okay, mostly me) have turned to petty crime in an attempt to save money Down Under. First and foremost, we generally never pay for the tram services which travel all over the city and cost between $3 and $4 per ride. Your tickets only get checked if an inspector comes on the tram, in which case you will be fined $160 for not having a valid ticket. In the last few weeks Leeanna and I have started to ride around with blank tickets (inactivated) you can buy from 7-11 convenience stores that you don’t activate until you put them into the machine on the tram. We simply just never activate them and figure that if we get caught we will play dumb with the tram inspectors, as we are just “tourists” and didn’t know any better. For the first couple of months we lived here we would just buy tickets occasionally, and luckily the one day we were checked we had both randomly decided to buy tickets as we were heading north of the city into uncharted territory. Other than that, Leeanna has been checked one time on her own and again luckily she had a ticket (couple months ago). We haven’t purchased a legitimate ticket in weeks though, and I am curious to see what is going to happen to us the first time we get caught. So far I reckon the total savings on tram tickets to be well over $200, and the tally only grows by the day! CRIMINAL!
Another scam I am running on the regular is trying to pocket tips at my place of work. Normally all of our tips are supposed to go into a jar at the front of the restaurant, where it is then divided amongst the employees on a week-to-week basis. I generally get less than $40 per week which is totally ridiculous considering the amount of tips I generate sometimes (especially on weekends). I suspect the owners pocket a lot of the money and give more to their “favourite” employees. I try to grab whatever I can out of my bill folds if no one is looking, although since the holiday season my direct tips have gone way down. Most nights I leave with nothing, although there are still the occasional nights where I can pull down anywhere from $1 to $35. A lot of luck of the draw with customers, etc as tipping is the exception and not the rule here. All-in-all I reckon I’ve been able to pull down an extra few hundred dollars in my time at the restaurant through “tip-pocketing/jamming tips in my pocket when no one is around” which I have no doubt pumped right back into Melbourne’s bar and restaurant economy. Sadly, the other night I also stole some cutlery from the restaurant for personal use at home. I have been trying to steal drinking glasses and plates as well, but so far have been unsuccessful at finding an apt moment to smuggle them into the backroom and into my backpack. Sad and pathetic, yes I know. CRIMINAL!
Probably the activity I am most ashamed/proud of is the one I pulled off the other day. It all started when I had to go buy a new pair of shoes for work as my old pair had become worn out. I trekked over to the Big W (think Wal-Mart) and found a pair I liked for $36. In a brief moment of genius/absurd cheapness I decided that I would switch the price tag on the shoes with that of a pair that were only $16. I figured no one would ever catch on (unless they were watching the security cameras) as I would casually go through the self check-out and be on my way. The one thing I didn’t count on/remember from my time at Home Depot is that the self check-out machines recognize the weight of items, and the shoes I was purchasing were a lot heavier than the ones I had stolen the tag off of. Sure enough, a cashier had to come over when I had an “unexpected item in bagging area” and started to have grandeur visions of spending my night in Australian jail for trying to save $20 on shitty work shoes. After what seemed like an eternity (was probably 5 seconds) the cashier looked in my bag, saw that they were in fact shoes I was buying and promptly fixed it up for me. I breathed a sigh of relief; giggling to myself the whole way out the store thinking about how pathetically low I had just stooped in my quest to save myself $20. CRIMINAL!
My last great scam is not really so much a scam as much it was an observation I had made over time and seeing the opportunity to capitalize on said observation. The last three weeks Leeanna and I have been going to the movies on Tuesday afternoons at the Crown Casino. The last two weeks we bought tickets from the box office on the lower level and noticed that when you go up the escalators to the theatres there was no one checking tickets. Sure enough when we went to the movies again this week (“Shutter Island”, awesome film!), we scoped out the top of the escalators and saw that no one was checking tickets. Therefore we just walked right up casually and tried to figure out which of the eight theatres was showing “Shutter Island” (they don’t have a display outside each entrance telling you what’s playing inside, as it normally tells you on your ticket!). We found it by following what looked like the type and size of crowd that would be watching that film and voila, we were in like sin! I reckon I may try and do this all the time during the weekdays when I go to the movies, as it isn’t possible at night as they employ their ticket-checkers. CRIMINAL!
Anyways, I must be off to go and hit up every 7-11 store in the area (there’s like 15 within a 10 minute walk of my apartment) to load up on Monster Energy drinks. They are having a one day sale, where they are selling them for $1 each (limit of 8 per customer, per store), which is a great deal considering they normally sell for $4.30 per can. I’ve already bought 8 this morning and definitely see some more cans on the horizon this afternoon! I love caffeine! I’m sure Leeanna will be amused when she gets home from work.
On that note, if anyone doesn’t here from for a while, just assume I have been locked up in jail for petty crime and should hopefully see you in twenty-five to life!
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