My Story - Part 2
What I had done was arrive in Adelaide. The first few days were a bit of fun in the usual way that filling out forms and waiting in lines can be. Getting a bank account, Medicare card, drivers licence, tax file number and doing it all in the right order so you build up enough identification points to get the next level.
Once I had an identity I could get on with life, but I was going to need to fund this life, so the next thing I needed was a job.
It was the early 90s and apparently everyone thought it would be fun to work in hospitality. Most entry level bar jobs were obtained by attending a cattle call. From there the criteria seemed to be flowing blonde hair and good cleavage. I could have always poured a bottle of peroxide on my head but when it came to the other ……
I attended a two week training course that promised help with work placement. I was also young and naïve. I didn’t really get anything out of the training course, least of all a job. And there were always so many nice looking blonde girls at the cattle calls. I was going to have to fall back on my trade as an upholsterer. This was a bit of a set back, but no money equals no beer, so I unfurled my upholsterers sheers and headed off to the furniture factory.
Having beer money meant I could venture out into the Adelaide bar scene. Here I quickly found out why those busty blonde girls were getting all the jobs. They were all so nice, and not just the ones behind the bar, the ones in the crowd were amazing as well, they were pretty, they smelt delectable, they dressed well and were great talkers. Even if the music was too loud I knew they were saying something interesting, I would smile and nod and when I felt the timing was right I’d drop a one-liner. There seemed to be a bit of a 50/50 thing going on, as the recipient of the one-liners hand would leave her side and make its way toward my head. Half the time I’d receive a one handed clap on the side of my face, I think this meant they weren’t interested in my proposal. Other times their hand would grab the back of my neck and pull me in for a kiss.
I was getting the hang of the bar scene, but still wasn’t able to get a job. After one cattle call I got the opportunity to show off my skills in a trial shift. It was a Friday night and the crowd was four deep at the bar. I was slow, awkward, crap at the point of sale machine and as the manager thanked me for turning up his eyes we’re saying “don’t call us”.
There was plenty to see and do for a small town boy who had left home in search of new adventures. It was summer time and I’d always enjoyed spending time at the beach, international cricket matches at the Adelaide oval, winery tours, even just going to Rundle Mall was great. So I was far from crushed that I still hadn’t landed my first paying job as a bartender. But still I was constantly on the lookout for that big break that would elevate me into the world of hospitality.
A friend and fellow upholsterer from Dunedin had arrived in Sydney six weeks before I flew into Adelaide. He swore before leaving he was never going to make another lounge suite in his life. He hit Sydney and didn’t look back, landed a pub job and was loving it. If I headed to the harbour city would it increase my chances of finding a bar job? Should I leave these South Australians to tend for themselves? Every day I rode to that furniture factory the answer became clearer. Before leaving I had one final piece of business to attend to. One more night at my favourite watering hole, I thought those lovely ladies deserved a grand finale, it was dubbed “the last chance for Adelaide chicks” night, and as I pulled on my lucky boxer shorts and splashed on some aftershave I hoped that this was not a night for one handed claps…
