A Whole New World

There comes a time in every traveller’s life when they must admit defeat. The precious well of money you worked so hard to save up in your home land finally runs dry and looking for employment is imminent – unless you bite the bullet and head home but who wants to do that? Australia is a great place to live and is where I’ll always lay my hat, but at least if you put your nose to the grind stone in a foreign land there’s still that small element of excitement. It may sometimes verge on normality, even reality, but at least you’re not at home eh?

I recently made such a decision, albeit in London in the time of the credit crunch (way to go, nice move, no really…), and began the long and arduous task of applying to every recruitment agency that ever existed (I think last count I was at 11). It took a long while and was certainly touch-and-go there for a few months but someone up there must like me, as in our current unstable climate I managed to land a 6 month contract – funnily enough through the very same recruitment agency my Mother did temp work for on her London sojourn over 20 years ago. I’d also like to state that yes, I am very aware of and dually appreciate how lucky I am and am indeed very thankful.

The job is your average run-of-the-mill public sector deal which may sound quite boring, but for someone like me who has only ever worked for events and music based companies with offices of 4 or so people this is a whole new ball game. At my current job we cover 5 floors of a prominent 32 floor inner-city office building - complete with members club on the top floor of which I cannot afford to become a member – and I am perched nicely on the 9th floor overlooking Big Ben, The London Eye and the very top of Nelson’s Column. We have a break room complete with vending machine and FREE hot chocolate (and coffee) machine, meeting rooms (aka eternal supply of uneaten M&S catering food which I happen to sit right next to), cakes when it’s someone’s birthday, ‘away days’ which seem to consist of us talking about ourselves and our directorate for a millisecond after which we then break out the booze and go completely bezerk – it’s great! Everyone’s fun, friendly, working toward a noble cause, plus I work for the Director who in my first 2 weeks was actually physically in the office for a total of 2 days. And I get paid for all this! It’s a wonderful thing.

Apart from the professional side of things there is the office politics, something to which I am not usually privy. When there are only 4 of you in an office the politics consist of you having a no-holds-barred screaming match and finally coming to a decision. Seeing as there’s just over 30 workers on my floor alone (remembering as an organisation we cover 5) this makes for some cracking fireworks: backstabbing, bitching, questionable personal hygiene issues, loud talkers, break room divisions, lunch stealing, the always present inter-directorate shagging and a highly welcomed newcomer, MSN Messaging.

Now here lies a world I never knew existed. I realised just how out of touch I was when I discovered MSN messenger was no longer restricted to your Hotmail account and was used as an everyday tool to chat, flirt and plan paperless mutiny’s in your place of business, how very exciting. I didn’t contact our IT department to set up my account for over a week after starting my new position, now I don’t even know how I ever lived without it. I’ve discovered new interests with new friends that would have taken hours to discover were we actually speaking to each other, uncovered relationships and juicy gossip that could never have been discussed in the open air, I’ve even started up various flirtatious liaison’s with numerous suitors and have often spent the best part of my day posting endless witty remarks followed by the appropriate ‘emoticon’ – who am I kidding, I spend almost 8 hours on the thing every time my boss is away, and when my chosen chat buddies are away or in meetings my chat withdrawals verge on suicidal! I’ve got the lingo down pat – not unlike texting, another favourite past time of mine – and I’m sure it’s upped my WPM’s to at least 50!

But beware the complications of MSNing, as your chosen chat buddy doesn’t know who else talks to you, nor do you know who they’re talking to. And heaven forbid you get your conversation boxes mixed up! When that little bar at the bottom of your screen starts flashing bright orange like a beacon that banishes boredom and you have more than one conversation on the go how are you to know who’s answered you back? Keep a cool head, don’t let the excitement take over, always look and check before you chat, as the chat can often bite back.

I must say all this has got me thinking – it’s OK to have more than one MSN chat partner right? It’s not like you’re cheating or anything (depending on the conversations content), and for all you know they could have another MSNer on the side too! ‘No. No. Never!’ I hear you say. You think its all fine and dandy until one day the replies get further and further apart. What was once a fast and flippant exchange of ideas and witty banter now becomes laboured and boring one-liner’s delivered at a pace akin to snail mail. Then you find yourselves simply filling in the spaces, idly responding in kind until you realise you have nothing to say. And then… they stop. It’s happened, it’s over, they’ve found another messenger to while away their working days with and there’s nothing you can do about it.

So do beware the trials and tribulations of office MSN Messenger, as what starts as harmless chit chat can often end in

The Search

"Where do I start?" he pondered. "There's so much ground to cover. So many nooks and crannies. So many places it could be."

"I'll begin my quest in the bedroom - they spend a lot of time in there." he thought, nosing around the furniture, leaving no corner unchecked. "I must find it. It must be here! They've been here all morning - playing, laughing, eating together - I can sense it. There's warmth, energy, freshly-cooked aromas in the air."

The bedroom proved unfruitful so he started down the hall into the lounge room.
"Look at the mess they've left - DVD's and weekend papers everywhere - all of no use to me. They must have left some trace behind!"

As he clawed behind couches and peeked under mats he could'nt help thinking of the situation at hand. "Being left alone to fend for myself and the family - the least she could do is help out a little! Always entertaining and socialising - a different person, different meals every night - never sparing a thought for us."

As he entered the dining room the air felt heavier. "This is where she brings them to drink wine, stuff their faces and drop food all over the floor - filthy they are!" But the dining room was unsuccessful also. Although he could tell they'd been there, they'd left no trace behind.
"Where did I see them last? Where could they have hidden it?" he wracked his brain to think.
"...of course - the kitchen!"

He was close now, he could feel it. The sweet smell of success. "Oh how I wish I could stop thinking of Uncle Paul!" he lamented. His path had taken such a similar turn to Uncle Paul's, but hoped his life was not as ill-fated.

"It always looks like this after they've been here together" he sneered, eyeing the empty glasses, plates and coffee cups strewn about. "This is where I saw them. They were near the bench, laughing, cuddling. Then he had it, in his filthy hands, and he walked..."

"The fridge!" he exclaimed, darting across the room. And there it was, gleaming on the floor, hidden away in the corner behind the fridge. "There's so much dust, so many wires behind here - doesn't she ever clean? Must be very careful...". As he felt his way towards it he was happy. Proud that he had come this far, rested in the thought that he wasn't a failure, he could look after his family, be happy again. The wooden base was sturdy making it easy to pick up, but it was stuck. It was so yellow and juicy and soft, it seemed to catch on something.

"This one's for you Uncle Paul" he pledged, yanking at the cheese with his claws. But in his triumph he didn't hear the click of the latch; he didn't see the flash of the metal; he didn't have time to feel the trap come down on the back of his neck, making this cube of cheese left for him, his very last.

Soundtrack to my life...

As you read my blogs you will soon discover I have great passion for both music and travel. For the last 9 years I have worked in live music venues, both at home in Sydney and here in London. One of my many dreams is to one day produce a travel program that tours the world critiquing quality live music venues and clubs across various continents and countries, providing a unique insight into the local music scene and after-hours culture of a featured city or town. I believe understanding different cultures, experiencing and learning from our worldwide community can bring people together and help create harmony - and what better way to do this than through music and dance?

It is with this in mind that I have started writing reviews on...

Both music venues and live shows -

http://sistersinsmundodemusica.blogspot.com/

As well as on the nocturnal life of a bartender -
http://sistersin-creaturesofthenight.blogspot.com/

Working behind a bar in a venue comes with the fantastic perk of being to see bands on a constant basis, getting behind the scenes of the venue and shows and seeing how it all works. Working in the UK in the past year alone I have seen the likes of Prodigy, Primal Scream, Motorhead, Mogwai, Biffy Clyro, Underworld, The Kooks, The Pogues, Paul Weller, The Foals - and that's not including the side-splitting comedians I've seen or festivals I've worked!

So I hope you enjoy my reviews, and please feel free to leave comments and suggestions - whether they be of a new band, venue, or just to tell me to shut the hell up - all communications are welcome here!

All I Know...

I'm new to this people, so bear with me...

I'm a 29 year old from Sydney who, for the last 9 years, has devoted her life to the 'behind the scenes' of the Australian music industry. At 21 I became assistant entertainment booker at The Metro Theatre - one of Sydney's most popular live music venues. It was my dream job, and for the next 4 years I learned about the industry, music, life and love, saw the best bands and DJ's the world has to offer, frequented many a sophisticated party, aftershow, festival, and made way too many friends - all of whom I am forever indebted to and am constantly thinking of.

However wonderful this life was I began to feel an itch; a stirring; a calling if you will. As I deemed this job my life's destiny I threw myself into it hook, line and sinker, eventually able to do it with both eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back (do excuse my horn-tooting). I was ever aware of how lucky I was to have my job - one that I enjoyed, excelled at, was full of perks, and had wrangled my way into with no formal qualifications or university degree. So I had quite the crisis on my hands when I realised it was boring me to tears.

Deciding to leave the position to someone who desired it I fled far and wide to Guatemala, Central America, and spent just over a year bumming around, working in bars, touring Mexico, Honduras, and generally lazing about. But alas, there comes a time in every backpackers life when they run out of money. However fortune smiled upon me once again and I was faced with 2 options: the first coming from my current job in La Antigua at Mono Loco (the crazy monkey). My lovely bosses offered me the position of head bartender and party planner after one of my drunken ideas - a 'Mr Mono Loco' male beauty pageant - came to fruition and was a roaring success. Considering I got my job at Mono Loco by falling asleep drunk on a toilet (fully clothed, seat down, I might add...), this offer was a gift from the gods by any means. But as fate would have it a call had been received from Sydney around the very same time from one of my previous employers, The Annandale Hotel. I'd moonlighted there as a door girl whilst working at The Metro and saving money to go away. The owner/operators - The infamous Rules - now informed me they were looking for a venue booker and would cut me a sweet deal if I came home. Torn between my leisurely lifestyle as a Guatemalan party planner with a looming credit card debt (which I still have to this day), and another crack at my dream job, I donned my sensible cap and returned home to book my very own venue.

Coming home was amazing. The day I got back the Tigers won the NFL Grand Final, as a result The Dale was pumping, all my friends were there, everyone was plastered, Mum had no idea of my return and nor did anyone else, so my homecoming was nothing short of spectacular. Drinks were drunk, intoxicants were taken, kegs were checked, there was kissing, hugging, dancing - it was heaven. Of course all this faded to black 2 weeks later, as post-traumatic-travel blues and the fact you have returned to reality sets in, and you long to be anywhere else. Don't get me wrong - seeing all my family and friends and having such a fantastic job to return to was great. And once again I was doing what I loved - booking and seeing bands, partying, schmoozing, pushing paper, sending worksheets to bands that never got read, listening to endless demo's of which 1 out of 100 were good - the rest having been recorded by tone deaf, fingerless mutes - staring at a screen all day, fighting with bands, promoters, WiFi routers, printers...

Yep. You guessed it. It was the return of... the itch! How could this be?! How could the job I loved so dearly and had strived for since the age of 15 be tormenting me so? How had I become so complacent?

The time had come once again to do a runner. The only way to justify it this time was to head to merry old England as all Australian's do and try my hand at the music biz over there. If I enjoyed the work in a different location it was the city of Sydney driving me mad. If I enjoyed the re-location and still hated the job, career-wise, I was screwed. So after 3 months of heaven travelling the USA and visiting all my friends from Guatemala, I arrived in London with a Working Holidaymaker Visa and £20. I got a bar job the day I got here and set about cracking the English music scene.

That was February 2008. It is now January 2009 and I'm in much the same position as I was then. I work 3 jobs - 2 bar (Hammersmith Apollo and Brixton Academy), 1 retail (HMV) - and like everyone in London, am eternally broke. Don't ask me how, I have no idea. I have tried time and time again to enter the London music industry but to no avail, and to be honest, it doesn't much bother me. I'm having the time of my life making new friends and unforgettable memories, and love the city of London. Other than that, I'm stumped.

I know I don't want to go home.
I know I don't want an office job.
I know I've recently started writing... A LOT.
I know I want to play guitar.
I know I want to learn languages.
I know I want to travel.
I know I'm sick of being broke.

That's all I know.