My Story - Part 3
I didn’t have a sign made up but it was certainly the sentiment of the trip. If I can make it there I’ll make it anywhere, Sydney….. Sydney. I was now totally obsessed with getting a bar job. As much as I disliked being an upholsterer in New Zealand, continuing along this path in Australia seemed totally absurd. So with backpack packed I was off again.
Apart from the money equals beer, equals bars, equals girls, equation, the furniture factory had turned up one other gem. A lot of the furniture we made headed to New South Wales in large semi trailer trucks so I had made an arrangement to catch a ride to Sydney on the first truck after Easter. This wasn’t just a matter of getting a free ride but more part of a grand plan that involved getting into all kinds of adventures. While I’m sure the first 60 kilometres would have been a blast, the next 1400 may have turned slightly awkward as a shy, scrawny, wannabe bartender had a hard time trying to make conversation with an unshaved, burley truck driver who was in dire need of a good shower or two. Luckily for that truck driver my friend Dave decided he’d come along and have a look at what Sydney had on offer, so we booked a hire car and opened the map. A road trip was in order.
The Great Ocean Road seemed like the perfect scene for an adventure to unfold. Packed and freshly showered we wished Adelaide farewell and roared off along the freeway. I’ve driven The Great Ocean Road many times since and each time is just as spectacular and jaw dropping as the first. Adventures unfold with ease as it’s one of those tourist drives that anyone from backpacker to luxury traveller becomes levelled by the awe and power of the Southern Ocean. You stand and share unforgettable moments with complete strangers as you gawp at the beauty of the Victorian coast line. Staying in backpacker hostels and hanging out in pubs, meeting tourists and locals, we listened to their stories, told a few of our own and absorbed it all.
Before we knew it we were on the Sydney Harbour Bridge and just like the Great Ocean Road I never tire of its beauty. We were staying with my friend Grant. We’d made furniture together in New Zealand and now he was tending bar in Sydney. I was sure his luck would rub off on me and I would finally meet my destiny. His fiancée Ann was none too pleased we’d turned up. Boys will be boys and after she’d taken him to live far away in another country I’d tracked him down. We once again became joined at the hip, drinking lots and carrying on as lads do. Ann’s patience was running thin. They were living in a one bedroom apartment, and having drunken house guests camped out in her living room and capitalising all of her man’s time was taking its toll.
There were plenty of vacancies for bartenders so I started calling around trying to get an interview. I would tell any hotel manager who would listen I was their man, plenty pretended to take my number promising to get back to me but nothing was happening. Finally I’d had enough. The next manager I had on the phone wasn’t going to get off easily, there was no way I was letting him finish the call without setting up an interview. Finally he yielded and I had my chance. I caught two buses and a train getting to that interview so I had plenty of time for mental preparation. I connected well with the manager but wasn’t sure whether he was buying into my sales pitch. Things were drawing to a close, so I offered “when do you want me to come for a trial shift”. After shuffling around uncomfortably he agreed that my determination was worthy of a trial in the front bar. I left feeling elated, the trial was in two days time so I had plenty of time to prepare. I was leaving nothing to chance, my lucky boxer shorts that worked so well in Adelaide were now going to be enlisted to bring a different kind of fortune, and I was damn certain I’d be wearing the same socks that I wore to the interview. As I said, I was leaving nothing to chance.
Two buses and a train ride later I was back for my trial shift, as prepared as I could be and nervous as hell. I wanted this to be the one. My shyness did me no favours, however my lucky boxers were holding their own. I won the hearts of the two girls that ran the bar and they took me under their wing. As the trial drew to a close I was thanked and headed for the train, I left with absolutely no idea whether I’d gotten the job or not.
Anticipation was killing me and two days later I phoned back the manager, he had one shift for me on next week’s roster. This was still no guarantee I’d secured the job, it was almost like another trial shift during which any time I could receive the “thanks for coming don’t call us” routine. Grant helped with as many tips as he could generate and I’d go along to his bar to do a little job specific training. As usual I was totally awesome at this kind of research.
My first rostered shift started on a Saturday afternoon and went into a busy Saturday night I worked hard and maintained my relationship with the two girls running the bar, I did what I was told and made sure I was a help not a hindrance. At the end of the night the manager called me into his office and told me I wasn’t his first choice but I appeared to be working out. “What’s your availability” he enquired, ”Any time you want me” quickly came my reply, “here’s three shifts for next week make sure you’re here on time and ready for hard work” . ”Yes boss!”. I held my composure until I was about 100 meters away from the hotel then I let it rip. Fists clenched and heart racing I punched the air and from the depths of my stomach came a mighty roar.
I had the job but I was far from being able to call myself a bartender. I had arrived at hospitality but was just scratching at the surface. I was just some shy awkward guy amidst a group of confident, opinionated individuals bound by their vocation. It was some kind of fraternity and I wanted in.
