Finding work in a so-called jobseekers paradise

I first arrived in Sydney, Australia a few days before Christmas I decided I was going to give myself a couple of weeks holiday to make the most of my free time around Christmas and New Year.

I was shocked to find that about half of the retail and hospitality trade had come to a complete stop. It is the busiest time of the year with people being on holiday and the sudden influx of tourists, yet places decided to close, most of which were closed before my arrival and wouldn't open again until at least the 9th January. I couldn't and still can't get my head round why places in the retail and hospitality trade close over the Christmas period.

Back in England they stay open all year round and possibly only close on Christmas day and Boxing day.

When I was told that lots of workers in the cities go to their respective homes to spend quality time with their families it made a little bit more sense.
Still though, with all the students off on their holidays how could it still be possible.

When I first started looking for work after most places had reopened I stumbled upon several problems. To work in the alcohol industry, you need to complete a course and get an RSA certificate. It is a completely pointless and bureaucratic device to allow the government to make even more money from the production, sale and distribution of alcohol. This set me back and caused a slight inconvenience as I couldn't go for the 'easy to get hired' bar work.

Another complication and annoyance was the fact that nearly all free slots had been taken by the university students on holiday.

Everyone I met kept on saying the same thing, “we're full at the moment, try again in a few weeks time after universities start up again”. Some places were supposedly hiring so I handed my CV in not expecting anything after spending a week going all over the city and handing out my CV. I got a response only moments after I left one bar, they wanted me to go in for a trial. I jumped at the chance, how could I possibly screw up a trial?

After my first trial, I was given a preliminary roster for the next few days. I was very excited, I finally had a job. As I was waiting for my bus about half an hour after my trial I received a call. The manager wanted to speak to me. I couldn't get hold of him until the morning after. I was handed bad news, as it turned out they didn't need anybody, they were overstaffed as it was and it had been a big misunderstanding between the supervisor and manager. They were both very apologetic and said they'd keep my CV and give a good word for me. I was gutted.

My money was fast running out and I was getting very needy for a job.

One of the many wine bars I gave my CV to called me and asked if I could do a trial on that following Friday. One week and I only had two trials from a solid couple of weeks giving out my CV and applying for work.

I did the second trial, it was terrible, I would have to say it was unbelievably easy. It involved me taking care of the tables out the front of the bar. Taking orders, serving food and drink. How could I do that badly, it went very well as expected. I did the standard 3hrs unpaid trial. The manager said he would call or email me a roster for the following week. I never received a call or email. After a few days I went in and asked what was going on. The manager greeted me very politely and said he was sorry, he had been very busy. He said he would get back to me in a couple of days. I waited a few days and gave up, the job clearly wasn't for me.

I haven't mentioned the need for qualifications or experience. Most places in retail and hospitality claim they don't require experience but they clearly do. All my experience is in retail and hospitality so in theory I'm and ideal candidate, I also have a vast knowledge of wine. Being qualified as a Wine Specialist I thought it would help.

Apparently it is a common thing for places to ask for people to go in and do trials on busy nights unpaid, I suppose it is a free extra pair of hands. They usually never contact the person ever again after the trial. I was used, I felt used. More to the point, I was fuming. It had now been about a month since I started looking for work and I didn't have a job and there was no clear sign of me getting a job.

I was getting desperate now!

During my days I would apply to about ten or twenty jobs online, not expecting to get a response, then hand in about ten CVs in various places. I wasn't getting anywhere. I would say I was beyond desperate now, the only thing saving me was the fact that I was being put up by my brother and his girlfriend. I was sleeping at their flat in the city.

I had become a regular at a local pub called the Hotel Hollywood in Surry Hills, a lovely little relaxed pub during the day. It was a really chilled out place to go for a quiet lunchtime beer. I would talk to the staff and tell them stories of my trouble finding work. One day I was in there having a beer at lunch and the manager came up to me and asked how my job hunt was going. I told him my sob story of my trials and disappointments and that I couldn't seem to get employed. He told me he may have a vacancy and needed staff, he asked for my CV and said he would be in touch. I got a call that afternoon, he offered me a trial shift the following evening.

I did the trial, it went well and he said he'd be in touch. He told me to pop in in a day or two to collect my pay and discuss the roster. It was a paid trial, I had worked 4hrs and was getting paid for it all in full. He asked when I was free and I told every minute of every day.

I was given my roster for the week and was a now an employee at the Hotel Hollywood.

I have been told by nearly everybody I have spoken to about applying for jobs. They say “you can't apply online, you have to go in and do it person to person”. It couldn't hurt for me to do it online as well, just in the slight chance that something might pop up.

I became a regular at this tea shop in Pitt St Mall in the city. It's called the Tea Centre Sydney. I found it whilst looking for a very specific tea for a friend. I was immediately a fan from my first visit, I quickly became a regular. I now go roughly twice a week.

The same situation I got into at the Hollywood happened there too. I became friendly with the staff and told them all about my troubles. The supervisor of the store said that he may have some positions opening up soon and if I could email him me CV. I did as soon as I got in. He gave me an interview, unfortunately I didn't get the job but he had another slot for me and I was due to start in a couple of weeks. That would have been perfect, the Tea Centre during the day during the week and the Hollywood some evenings and weekends. The guy called me back and left a voice mail, he wanted to speak to me. I was planning to go the next day to buy some of their lovely teas so I went to catch up with him then.

Unfortunately I was hit with some bad news. The head office would allow him to employ me, they do not employ people on who are on Working Holiday Visas, due to the restrictions.

The restrictions on my visa state that I can only work for any one employer for a maximum of 6 months. This bloody visa has been the bane of my stay so far in Sydney. It turned out that I am nearly unemployable, I don't know why but I am. I would imagine that if I were a girl it would be very different. So many of my rejections have been as a result of them finding out about the visa I am on.

It is a working visa, surely the restrictions shouldn't matter to part time and casual work, even temporary full time work, apparently it does!

From here in I plan to try my hardest to find work and overcome my difficulties but who knows what other unseen obstacles I may have to conquer.

my first attempt at a self portrait, don't laugh at the size of my chin

the hunt for brown october

The act of seeking out and destroying a U-bend U-boat with a bog brush

Bristol

Some of my brothers mates had decided to give him a sort of testimonial football match in Bristol. They all went to university there and thought that it would be a good send off before he goes to live in Australia for an unknown period of time. I invited myself, it wasn't an inconvenience for me as I still don't have a job, or anybody else to that matter as we would be staying at my brothers mates house. I booked my coach there from Victoria coach station, on the national express. Out of being cheap, I chose a more complex option, my bro and a couple of his mates were going down at eleven, I booked mine for eleven thirty as it saved me a couple of pounds. I booked my return for seven, where as my brother and his mates had a ticket for five forty. Once again, it saved me a couple of pounds.

Everybody else got on the bus, I waited for mine. Mine came, it was a really crap old one, not a nice new one like the one before. The journey was fine, I listened to some music and read a book. When I arrived, I had no idea where I was, I had only been to Bristol a couple of times and that was ages ago. I called my brother and got directions from his mate to a café to meet up. I had a bit of trouble trying to find it but got there in the end. They had some tea and some food and we all left to go to start drinking. As my brothers mates say, 'we were about to board the para train'. I was up for getting drunk, I was very thirsty and fancied a beer or something. My brothers mate who lives in Bristol took us on a little drive. He took us to the waterfront to get a beer in one of the bars across from the docks. The bar was part of a gallery displaying very strange works. Some form of conceptual art that I don't have a care in the world for. The bar had the option of sitting on some bean bags. The weather was pretty good at the time, it wasn't too hot but the sun was shining. It was a million miles away from the pissing rain last night. The only thing with the bean bags was that you had to leave a credit card or something behind the counter, as a deposit I suppose so you didn't let anything happen to them. We put the bean bags out on the pavement overlooking the waterfront. From the way people were looking at us as they went passed made me feel as if we were some sort of art installation. I set up a 'self timed' photograph, it didn't quite work out. Nobody paid any attention to the camera and I didn't make it back in time to be in it. It looked funny and was of the moment so I kept it and didn't bother with another.

We went to another bar, somewhere else in the city. I ordered a cider and it was the most disgusting drink I have ever had, I paid for it though so had to finish it. I ended up finishing my brothers one too. We met up with an ex work colleague of my brother and his mates. While we were waiting, I noticed some pikey standing at the corner keeping an eye on everybody. There was an empty table covered in half finished pints and wine. He was eyeing it up for a while, when the people left, he darted over. He had been hanging around like a vulture hovering over a dead animal. He swooped in and helped himself. Without a care in the world, knowing that people all around were watching him do so. He proceeded in pouring all the left over drinks into a pint glass, he necked it, then flew away. We drank up and left. After the bar we went back to the house. We were driven a scenic route, we drove right underneath the Clifton suspension bridge. It is a great piece of civil engineering. It was good, we were driven around, I hadn't seen any of this before. The house was pretty nice, its quite a small two bed house but was nicely done up with hardwood floor and neutral décor. We all got ready, I changed my shirt. We all went round somebody's house briefly and I stood awkwardly then sat on a sofa not knowing any of them.

The time to go out was here, we were getting some food. I was perfectly happy to have a take away or some cheap fast food but the others had something a little more fancy in mind. We ate Wagamamas. The queue to get in was about twenty minutes, most of it spent outside in the pissing rain. The weather had taken a turn for the worse after a lovely afternoon. After we had full belly's we went to this bar called 'the coritap'. I had heard so much about it, all these stories about drunken nights on this extra strong cider, randomly named 'exhibition'. It was pretty sweet and didn't taste strong at all, it was only served in half pints, some crap thing I presume to make more money out of it. I think I worked though, I had a few and I could feel it. The place was so packed, so hot and stuffy and tight. We were in a corner right next to window but the window gave us no ventilation at all. The ex work colleague met us in there, then the people from the house we went round came out. We had some more exhibition then left, or were thrown at as the bar had now closed. We spent all night in the corner, when seat finally came free, the bar had closed.

The next bar was more of a bar/club thing with music and cocktails and a not as student crowd. It was packed again. All the bars and restaurants in Bristol seem to be packed. We stayed in there for some drinks, met some more people, I got given a shot bar the bar man, I asked for it but he gave me it for free. I won't complain about getting free alcohol. My brothers mate then proceeded to buy loads of shots, far too many than there actually was of us. He had a whole tray full of them. I think I can speak fro everybody when I say that we were all very drunk by this point. It was after leaving here I think that my brothers mate came out with the funniest thing. It is one of those things that is only funny in the moment but will live on because of the near stupidity of it. He called the ex work colleague 'a moist individual', moist, I don't think he meant in any sexual sense. He claimed it was down to her using of some coconut moisturiser. We left and tried a couple more bars, then went off somewhere completely different. I had no idea what was going on, I was very drunk and didn't recognise anything.

We ended up in this bar that I still believe to be a gay bar. The others weren't so sure but a lot of the staff were overly camp. Most of the clientèle were men, and camp men at that. I don't even remember buying a drink in there. Must have done though, we were in there for the rest of the night. The toilet of this place was a bit of a weird set up. There was no cubical in the male toilet, the urinals were in this tiny box room. When you piss with somebody next to you, you wouldn't be touching elbows, you would pretty much be holding each others dick. It would be the worst nightmare of any stage fright sufferers. I tried to keep going in there to a minimum but I have a bad bladder so I visited it on numerous occasions. This makes me sound gay, I know but I have a really bad problem with drinking and pissing. Out of drunkeness, I allowed my arm to be a canvas for a game called 'farmyard challenge', where you convert an image of a penis into an animal. My moustache was also painted with glitter. It was all fun and games in there. This guy sitting next to where we were left in a right huff. I think he must have been very drunk and possibly trapped in his seat behind a table. When he left, he pushed the table right out into the middle of the room, knocked over some chairs and walked out in a rage. Everybody else in there proceeded to give him a huge round of applause and he even got a standing ovation from some.

We went back to the other house, drank some sweet 'flor de caña' five year old rum. We played loud music and made a racket, I have no idea what the time was, pretty late I would assume as the bars had all closed. On the TV was a music channel, and on that music channel was some awful pikey song. We named the singer in the video 'Portia', no idea why but it seemed to suit her. We then named this girl there Portia too. The name stuck, I have no idea what her real name is but Portia will do. People were passing out, I think it was time to leave and get some sleep. I was on the air mattress on the floor, in my sleeping bag. I kept falling off. When I woke up in the morning I was covered in aches and pains, I must have fallen off a lot.

For some stupid reason, when I was drunk the night before I agreed to help the house mate move out. I bloody woke up around eight, god knows what time I got to sleep but I was bloody tired. I had a cup of tea, spoke with the house mate until the man in the van came to pick the stuff up, then I could go back to bed. As everybody else woke up and my brothers mate ruined any of my chances of getting a moments more shut eye. We all took our time getting up, dressed and showered and shit like that. We went to a pub for a bite to eat, the pub was completely full, and there was a queue for tables. What a joke Bristol is, all the bars and pubs are full, all the time. We went to another one round the corner. The moist individual came out to meet us again for a bite of lunch. We ended up driving around the afternoon with far too many people in the car. It was very very comfortable. I ate some roasted pork belly and mash for lunch, it was so tasty, there were all sorts of pies and sausages. The food looked, smelled and tasted amazing, very nice pub. After that it was time for football. Well, the second half of the Arsenal game. They were playing Chelsea away from home and were losing 1-0. We got to watch about fifteen minutes of the second half then had to go to the bus station to get a coach back to London. My bus was booked for ten passed seven and everybody else had theirs for five forty, I was going to try my luck and board this bus, if there was space. I managed to get on the bus, rather than waiting a couple of hours for my bus. I slept the whole journey.

Bye Bye Bro

I decided to invite myself to my brothers leaving do for work. It was a simple affair, a few of his closer friends from where he worked. They were going to meet in a pub pretty much right next to work in Teddington, at about five thirty. As I don't have any form of transport at the moment, I wasn't too sure how I was going to get there. I ended up going into Kingston with a mate, then got the bus from there to Teddington. I had no idea who was going, I don't even know any of my brothers work mates, I knew one as he was an old friend and I had met a couple more. I was interested at the idea of meeting some of his fellow colleagues.

I got to the pub a bit earlier and had a couple of pints before they all arrived. The last few weeks, one way or another I have been going to this pub to meet my brother after he finished. This would be the last time as he no longer works there. I sat in my regular seat, on a sofa in between the bar and a wood fire. The fire was on that night, it wasn't even that cold outside, silly really. When my brother and some of his mates arrived we moved, where I was sitting there was room for about four people, I imagined there would be a lot more. We went over to a table that already had lots of people sitting on it. Something I have to point out is that on most Fridays, if not every Friday the pub is full of people who work at the same place. This time it was relatively empty in comparison to some nights I have been there before. Maybe its due to the weather taking a turn for the worst and just raining all day long.

Everybody was buying my brother beers or shots, actually, most people were buying him shots. He got given a shot of vodka but didn't want it, so one of his mates slipped it in his half drunk pint. I don't think he noticed as he never mentioned that the beer tasted funny or anything. He was visibly getting progressively drunk as the night went on. I was chatting to some of his mates, offending some with stories of what I had been eating when I was travelling in South America, things like lizard. I received word that we were planning to leave to move on to Richmond, they fancied a change of scene and move closer into London, with the possible intention of finishing the night in a late bar or club. It took us over an hour to leave. Not everybody came, the ones that did seemed to filter out one by one and dispersed. Some of us went straight to the bus stop to get a bus to Richmond, some hung around a while, then appeared at the bus stop a while later. I was actually getting quite pissed now too, the next thing I knew is that we were in Richmond walking around looking for a pub to go in. we found one a stones throw from the cricket green. Its a rather nice pub. In fact it is the same pub that I went in one night when I went on a bike ride to Richmond. The night my crank fell off.

We were met by another of my brothers mates with one of her friends in the pub, or near the pub. My memory of the night got a little more brief. We stayed in that pub till it closed, some people left so everybody said goodbye. What happened next is something that tends to happen quite a lot when the night isn't fully planned. We spent the next hour walking around trying to get in numerous bars without any luck. We were told the doors had closed and weren't allowed, in. we were flatly refused entry in this gay bar. I recognised some people standing outside smoking so I said hello. After being turned down again and again everybody left. We got the bus back from Richmond to Hammersmith, I was staying round my brothers flat that night. The bus was ride was a long one. A couple of my brothers mates got on, they were heading in the same direction as us but not quite as far. They got off, it was just us. I was still quite drunk but sobering up, my brother was clearly still very drunk.

A bunch of lads got on the bus, they were quite loud and were chatting to one another. One of them came to sit at the back. There were loads of free seats but he came and sat right in front of us at the back next to an older lady. Only he knows why. He went back to sit with his mates after a few minutes. They were all drunk, him a little more than the others. He put his head down on the seat rail in front of him, covered his face with his arm and began throwing up his guts. From the back we could see the sick forming a thick gloopy puddle on the floor. I could hear him convulsing, and hear the vomit splashing when it hit the floor. A girl sitting near him noticed and started shouting at him. She was calling for him to be thrown off the bus. The driver didn't seem to care at all. His mates fought his corner for him, they were shouting at the girl for shouting at him. Saying he was ill and all that shit. Really there was no excuse for what he was doing, he should have known better and got off the bus or something. He deserved a thump in the face. Then he started shouting at the girl. What the hell gave him the right to shout at a girl for having a go at him for vomiting on the bus. What a prick! Every so often he would stop arguing and start puking again. The girl pressed the button and got ready to get off the bus. They were still shouting. Some old Scottish guy in front of us started shouting at the boys telling them to 'shut the fuck up' calling them 'cunts' and all sorts. They sort of stopped. The girl got off. We were getting close to our stop so we got up and stood by the door. We pressed the button and waited for the bus to stop. I was right behind the little prick who had been chucking up his guts, I got an overwhelming urge to give him an almighty blow to the side of his head, knock him out and teach him a lesson, maybe rub his face in the sick. Completely cover him in his own filth. Whilst I was thinking this, my brother grabbed him and tried to pull him off his seat and throw him off the bus. Why had he done this? I wanted to really beat the shit out of this little fucker for being sick and being so rude about it. My brother had sort of got there before me. He ruined any chance I might have had to do anything. Instead of punching the boy, I ended up having to push my brother off the bush and hold the other boys back from trying to hit him. I was ready for violence and up for some blood shed. I knew the consequences of what could have been my actions, I was the bigger man and just walked away. I shouted to the driver to drive off, the doors closed and off they went. Just as the doors were closing, the boys mates shouted back at me, 'nice beard'. I received the complement and said thanks.

Bart's

This night happened a couple of weeks ago when we all went out for Franks birthday party. It wasn't planned as a party, just a few pints on a mini pub-crawl around the Knightsbridge/Kensington/Chelsea area. I initially wasn't going to go, until I managed to sort the day off work.

We got the train up, Andrew and myself. We were on our way to join my brother and Frank to have some tasty beer, see some great British pubs in a beautiful, lavish and any fantastic descriptive you can come up with to describe this part of West London.

The first pub on the list, the pub we were going to, to meet my brother and Frank, was an old fashioned Fuller's pub in Belgrave Mews. To start the night, I had a pint of ESB, yummy. We drank a couple of pints in here, then headed out for another pint and maybe some food elsewhere. Before we all left, I made sure I went to the toilet to check out the wash basins. My brother had been telling me about them for most of the night so I had to see them for myself. There were two completely original Thomas Crapper sinks. They were fantastic, very large with elaborately decorated brackets holding them up. Then we left.

We all went in the direction of another pub, not having any specific one in mind though. We walked, and walked, and walked. Until we found a pub. Where it was I have no clue, then we all saw signs for the Victoria coach station. We managed to walk from Sloane square all the way to Victoria without realising. The pub was pretty standard, it had the feel of a Lloyd’s or Whetherspoon's. In the pub were signs up saying all about the popes visit.
We drank a pint and left.

It was getting pretty late now, most pubs were closed or closing, we went to a bar in Chelsea. To get there though, we went the wrong direction and ended up right next to Battersea bridge, nowhere near where we wanted to be. It was then, when we all realised we were lost, that I decided to have a sip of Cognac. I had brought a bottle with me just in case. Its always nice to have some alcohol for when you really might need it, or want it.

Eventually we managed to navigate our way there, using a mix of Google maps and our intuition. When we got inside, we were met with disappointment. All this greatness and grandeur and we couldn't have a piece. We could just look in from the outside. To get into the bar, you had to ring a door bell, then a bouncer would look through a flap, then open the door. The bouncer said it was a really busy night, he told us no. We all tried, but all received the same response, no. Andrew had a go, he talked and talked and managed to blag our way in. the bouncer waved us through.

The doorway to get in was wallpapered with images of Mickey mouse. I don't think that it is so appropriate, I think that Tin Tin would be much more suitable. I was taken aback by how pokey the place was. For some reason I pictured this huge room with lots of floor space with fancy chandeliers hanging all over the place. Not at all, on the contrary. It was cosy but far too packed, it felt very similar to being on the tube during the rush hour, just with the added extra of alcohol and music. The crowd was very reminiscent of the sort you would find in a Whetherspoon's pub, only of a different class.
Along the top of the bar were hooks, hanging from these hooks were tankards. On top of each tankard was a name plaque. They only served one ale, it didn't have the feel of a real ale pub and looking around at the people in there, none were the sort who drink real ales.
It took about thirty minutes to get served, when we got served and got our drinks, they went down too quickly and easily.

The best thing about the bar was its near empty dressing up box. Inside were treats like wigs and ponchos. I found this Clint Eastwood, Spaghetti western style poncho. I immediately put it on, it stayed on all night. I looked like a cross between a cowboy and a Mexican bandito.
I loved it, so much so that I tried to leave with it on when the bar closed. I would have taken it if the bouncer hadn't stopped me and told me to take it off. I played ignorant as to avoid any embarrassment.

The bar was called Bart's

damn crank

It was my first bicycle ride since I had got back from my holiday, I was seriously unfit, just getting about five minutes from my house and I was already struggling. I still had the feat of climbing Richmond hill ahead of me. I went with a friend but had to wait ages for him to get to my house before we could set off on our way. We had arranged to meet Dominic near his work then go on a sort of mini pub crawl around the Ham/Richmond area.
On the way back home, we managed to get through Richmond park in the pitch darkness, I could feel there was something not quite right about my bicycle. When we got to Kingston bridge my left side crank fell off, I was in a bit of a predicament, I would have to walk over an hour to get home now. I tried to go along without it, it wasn't really happening. Andrew my friend gave me a hand by letting me hold onto his bag and he pulled me along for a bit.
Suddenly out of nowhere he spotted a guy on the side or the road doing something to a bike. We stopped along side and I asked him if he had a ratchet I could use to try and get the bolt back on so I could at least ride my bicycle home and sort it out another time. I was expecting him to simply bring out a set of ratchets and leave me be to try and sort it. Oh no, he did it all himself, he pretty much fixed me bike, enough to get me home fine.
What a cool guy, he was a serious biker and said he was loading his bike into his car as he was going to take part in a mountain bike race the following day. I wished him luck, said thanks and left.