Another New Job - Blogabond

Oh come on, you all know I'm incapable of holding anything down for more than 2 weeks before I get bored. The gardening job was starting to get to me, I was so over mowing lawns and being attacked by vegetation and every time I saw a pile of leaves it depressed me so I got a job with Dave in the Clippers Pearls yard which gives me access to all kinds of exciting things such as a kettle, a puppy to play with, people to talk to and a toilet with three frogs that live in the u-bend.

Bog Frogs

I do feel a bit guilty about pissing on the frogs but hey, when you gotta go you gotta go and they don't seem too perturbed by it. I'm more worried about the use of cleaning chemicals, what if they have an adverse effect on the frogs? What if they mutate resulting in the Kimberleys being ruled by the iron albeit webbed fist of the evil Lord Ribbit and his minion, Captain Croak?

I digress.

I will now see out my time in Broome fixing panels with cable ties, what with me being the expert that I am after me and Sarah lashed the grandstand at Burswood Dome together with cable ties and gaffa tape.

The yard is run entirely on Broome time. Work starts when the supervisor finally shows up to let us in and the kettle's boiled. A 10 minute break takes 20 minutes and we get three breaks a day.

People To Talk To

Cybo The Puppy

They keep trying to get me out on the pearl boats though which totally doesn't appeal to me for two reasons. The first being, I currently sacrifice 8.5 hours of my day and they give me $130 minus tax in return for essentially drinking tea and chatting shit. The other day they asked me to go out on the day trips, sacrifice 11.5 hours a day of my precious time during which they will expect me to actually earn my wages and all for a mere $20 a day extra.

Get. Fucked.

The main reason though is that everyone that comes back off the boats after a 12 day trip come back covered in scabs and with bits of shell embedded in their extremities. The sea water in Broome carries a bacteria and you're constantly covered in the shit on the boats so any sores you get will get infected.

I really don't need any more scabs, I've been eaten alive since I got to Broome, I've practically skinned my legs and feet. I can't help it, I scratch the bites in my sleep and there's nothing I can do about it. I wear long trousers to bed and I wrap myself so tightly in my sleeping bag that I shouldn't be able to move, let alone contort myself into insane positions that I do so I can reach my legs with my claws. I wake up hacking at myself and I can't stop because I'm still half asleep and it feels so goooood! The only other option would be sellotaping mittens to my hands but I swear if I did that I'd wake up gnawing on my limbs to satisfy the itching.

And lets face it, scabs aren't gonna help my pulling potential now are they. Come and get me girls.

Don't mind the pus.

written by

Koala Bear on July 6, 2007 from Broome, Australia

from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz

tagged Work and Bollocks

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