I’ve had a lot of jobs in my time, 14 and 9 months is probably not the most ideal time to start a job. On one hand it creates independence, and gives you the financial freedom to waste your money on whatever you want. Whether it be drugs, general consumerism or the massive phone bills from all the data you were using. On the other hand, it gets you used to the idea that your money is all your own to spend as you please. This makes it quite difficult later on when you have genuine expenses related to keeping yourself fed, clothed and sheltered. It creates genuine resentment over having to pay for things like toilet paper when you have spent 10 blissful years spending your money on drugs and concert tickets while someone else took financial responsibility for the boring stuff.
The defining moment of stupidity at KRONOS was probably when I got in trouble for “touching people” at our Mona Vale rooms. By ‘touching people’ I mean either greeting them in the morning with a mutual kiss on the cheek, a causal hug (where the hands stayed in all the appropriate places,) or even horror of all horrors, touching people on the shoulder. Scandalous stuff! HR told me that placing my hand on a co-worker’s shoulder was unacceptable. Mick had been sexually harassing and groping young female trainees without censure, but when I, a gay man, touched a woman on their shoulder, it was sexual harassment. Brief, non-sexual contact with a gay man was apparently frightful, but lingering arse grabs by a middle-aged creep in a position of power was A-OK. Hypocrisy is apparently a synonym for KRONOS.
Melancholy, it’s an odd feeling. It’s funny how your emotions affect your perception of everything around you. Perception can change one conversation from a discussion to an argument. A Roommate into an enemy, a job into the worst decision of your life. But why is it always so obvious afterwards. It would be really handy to have a shit filter. Something like brakes, something that slows down your reaction times, something that helps you analyse things more objectively so you can make better choices. Interestingly, there is research out there that suggest that mild depression can do this. Apparently mild depression acts as a bit of a brake, and that people with mild depression actually see things more clearly than people in other emotional states. For those of you who read ADHD style, skipping words here and there, assuming you will get enough info for an accurate general gist, I will repeat it in bold type: MILD DEPRESSION CAN MAKE YOU MORE LOGICAL, not that depression makes you logically superior to happy glass half full types. Of course, a conversation is a two-way street, for it to work both people have to be grown-ups, ready to listen, compromise and work towards a satisfactory solution for all involved.
Some people can just be summed up by a meme. David Brent was one of them. Have you seen that meme of the Shitzu terrier with the geometric hair cut? The one with the long fringe, streaky colours/shit highlights, and shaved at the back? It’s a Blacktown bogan haircut. David Brent had the exact same haircut as the dog in the meme.
I will never understand Bertha or what made her the poisonous harpy she is today. Today, I am a different and hopefully better man than I was yesterday. Bertha, she doesn’t seem to grow or learn from her mistakes. I’m really not sure what Bertha wants from life. Yes, Bertha is opinionated, but opinionated in the way that man hating misandryists are ‘strong’. You have to stretch the definition to breaking point and eliminate all shades of grey for opinionated to be the best word for the job. Bertha calls herself strong, opinionated and the sort of person who doesn’t take shit. All true. The Berlin wall fell quicker than you could make Bertha back down, she will force her opinions down your throat whilst threatening you with hari kiri if you don’t put in writing that her opinions are fact, and she doesn’t take shit because she has pre-emptively terrorised everyone with her our shit flinging fury. So, while what Bertha says about herself is without question correct, it is less than half the story. It's all in the delivery, and her delivery sucks. She is rude, abrupt, condescending and aggressive. The human version of the postie who takes a shit in your letterbox and carefully sandwiches it between your electricity bill and your birthday card from your nana.
When your life goes to the shit in a big dramatic way, its normal to spend many sleepless nights and anxious days trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. Despite being an extraordinary boy, I am also an ordinary boy, thus not immune to introspective moments in the aftermath of my surprisingly frequent life implosions. After everything went to hell in a hand basket at KRONOS, I needed answers. In an attempt to understand what had happened, and to get a bigger picture perspective, I decided to survey former co-workers.