It’s nearing the end of a rather long day. I’m tired, drowsy, a bit bored, and making far too many trips to the Cigarette Balcony for my own good. I enjoy working late- I find that my productivity increases as the day goes on, and staying well into the night usually equates to getting a lot more done without the usual distractions.
I work in a fairly unique environment. A 24/7 office filled with one of the most diverse cross sections of society I’ve ever encountered- a billion nationalities, a billion walks of life- we have PhDs, pilots, journalists, starving writers, students, alcoholics (ahem), married people, single people, divorced people, and far too many gay people. Speak three languages and semi computer literate? We want you.
At 9pm this evening the Vampire shift slowly staggered in. The slight whiff of residual alcohol from this morning’s Tea Garden’s session gingerly wafted through the office as they lurched towards the Nespresso machine before making themselves comfortable for the night. The nightshift is actually our peak time (being that most of our clients are in Europe and Canada). I dont see them often any more but it’s comforting to know that I have a job to go to each morning because of the crack team of 50 odd Zombies working tirelessly through the night repeating ‘Have you disabled your firewalls and restarted the Client?’ in a dozen languages. Watched over by the ever vigilant supervisor charged with steering the sinking ship towards the Dawn, silently monitoring random data replication points in the furthest corners of the Globe, waiting to spring into action should the slightest hint of red hit their monitors. For the rest of the time they’re rolling their eyes at stupid questions and telling the crew to fuck themselves. Both Lucky and I had that job at one point- which partially explains both our bitterness and the bizarre gravitational attraction we feel towards the Tea Gardens each morning.
Working late on a Thursday night means another thing- the Carnival atmosphere in the office because for them it’s the end of the week, which means an epic Breakfast Club session at the pub from 7am tomorrow that will go on well into the afternoon. Trust me- those guys can drink. It’s the only way to sleep during the day during the summer- 6 or 7 beers = 8 hours of sleep. No beer = 3-4 hours if you’re lucky. Of course our Nightshift tends to take things to the extreme- you haven’t lived until you’ve been cut off at 8pm at the Tea Gardens and the Manager’s justification is ‘You’ve been here for 13 hours- I’m doing you a favour.’
It’s funny. Seeing old friends plan their morning hijinx. Remembering the days when I was their despotic leader. The glory days of finishing work at 7am, exchanging pleasantries with Gail (the dowdy morning barmaid) as she pours the first round of the weekend. And then bitching with your colleagues for the next 7 hours while telling them how much you love them. Then yelling at each other. Then running crying to the bathroom. Then hugging and making up. That’s the type of drinking I miss most. Those Vampires who (whether they liked it or not, or wanted to or not) stuck by me through some very difficult times.
I actually was a smug Married once. Hard to believe, I know. I arrived in Sydney under tumultuous circumstances. My ex and I decided to come here together, before eventually going to London. Of course we broke up at our Leaving Party just before flying out and I enjoyed a wonderful 15 hour flight with him sat 10 rows behind me. I had Ativan, he didnt, so I think it was probably worse for him than it was for me.
I was offered a job through a friend- nightshift (blech!) for an online gaming company (ok- interesting). I figured it would be ok for a a month or two so at least I had an income, while I looked for another job. Thanks to two very special Girls I was able to settle in Sydney very quickly (and easily) and I'll be forever indebted to them. I built a routine- working nights wasn't ideal, and it took a bit of getting used to, but my boss (Lucky) quickly introduced me to Gail (the barmaid) and the rest was history. I became comfortable. The ex and I decided to make an attempt to reconcile- it happens to the best of us, I know. The result was six months of him constantly reminding me that I wasn't good enough, that I got through life by luck alone (not entirely untrue), and that I was essentially more fucked up than Adolf Hitler, Nero, and Miley Cyrus combined. Six months of that can destroy anyone's sense of self worth- even someone as gloriously defiant as I.
I left Sydney and ended up in Melbourne via Perth and a couple of very long train journeys. It was time to focus on me. What do I want to get out of the next few months in Australia, before I move on with my life. I needed to find a way of 'fixing' all of my 'problems'. I could make myself better. I would find work, build a new life. Actualise my talents somehow. Change myself.
Of course I eventually found out that during the preceeding six months he had been dating half of Sydney. Oh yes- he had a go with everyone. Out Guys, In Guys, fat guys, thin guys, positive guys, negative guys, oh, and a personal trainer. All of which was my fault, of course. What had been an amicable split rapidly decended into hate- especially as he was the victim in all of this apparently. I had never felt so completely worthless. I was lost in Melbourne with no job and no money, being looked after by an old friend (I wouldn't have survived it if it wasn't for her and her endless support and generosity). Five months of living the backpacker life ensued (see- hard drinking). I found an urban family of loveable alcoholic misfits in Melbourne. Another family of trashbags in Darwin. For some reason despite being at such a low point I was always surrounded by genuinely good people and a shitload of alcohol- I'm still keep in touch with all of them.
I found myself back in Sydney and the universe threw me another bone. I landed with 70 bucks at 630am one crisp, Monday morning in September. I went to the Tea Gardens to meet up with a former work colleague who offered me a place to stay for a few days while I sorted something out. I ordered a beer, and sat down surrounded by all my tatty luggage like some kind of alcoholic gypsy. The barman came up and asked for a cigarette- I was running low, but of course I said yes. We talked. He was excited about his month long holiday to Thailand in three days time, but stressed to all shit because his housesitter had bailed on him and he couldn't find anyone to look after his place with such short notice...
Yes- sometimes life chucks you a complete freebie when you expect it least and need it most. I started back at work that night, and had a place to stay for a month while I saved enough money for a place of my own. Met John (my current flatmate), reestablished myself in the nightshift family, and spent the next two years working with people who genuinely cared about me and essentially became my life. The company kept me in Australia but the nightshift made it home. I became happy, content, and (gasp) stable because of the people I was surrounded by. It's difficult doing permanent nightshift but they made it enjoyable- we all looked forward to going to work no matter how hung over we were from the previous morning- we'd cope with Midnight Maccas runs and more beer the following morning. Leaving them was hard- I had to for the good of my health, and I do still see them, but it's not quite the same.
Getting wasted with good mates- could I ever really give that up?
I actually was a smug Married once. Hard to believe, I know. I arrived in Sydney under tumultuous circumstances. My ex and I decided to come here together, before eventually going to London. Of course we broke up at our Leaving Party just before flying out and I enjoyed a wonderful 15 hour flight with him sat 10 rows behind me. I had Ativan, he didnt, so I think it was probably worse for him than it was for me.
I was offered a job through a friend- nightshift (blech!) for an online gaming company (ok- interesting). I figured it would be ok for a a month or two so at least I had an income, while I looked for another job. Thanks to two very special Girls I was able to settle in Sydney very quickly (and easily) and I'll be forever indebted to them. I built a routine- working nights wasn't ideal, and it took a bit of getting used to, but my boss (Lucky) quickly introduced me to Gail (the barmaid) and the rest was history. I became comfortable. The ex and I decided to make an attempt to reconcile- it happens to the best of us, I know. The result was six months of him constantly reminding me that I wasn't good enough, that I got through life by luck alone (not entirely untrue), and that I was essentially more fucked up than Adolf Hitler, Nero, and Miley Cyrus combined. Six months of that can destroy anyone's sense of self worth- even someone as gloriously defiant as I.
I left Sydney and ended up in Melbourne via Perth and a couple of very long train journeys. It was time to focus on me. What do I want to get out of the next few months in Australia, before I move on with my life. I needed to find a way of 'fixing' all of my 'problems'. I could make myself better. I would find work, build a new life. Actualise my talents somehow. Change myself.
Of course I eventually found out that during the preceeding six months he had been dating half of Sydney. Oh yes- he had a go with everyone. Out Guys, In Guys, fat guys, thin guys, positive guys, negative guys, oh, and a personal trainer. All of which was my fault, of course. What had been an amicable split rapidly decended into hate- especially as he was the victim in all of this apparently. I had never felt so completely worthless. I was lost in Melbourne with no job and no money, being looked after by an old friend (I wouldn't have survived it if it wasn't for her and her endless support and generosity). Five months of living the backpacker life ensued (see- hard drinking). I found an urban family of loveable alcoholic misfits in Melbourne. Another family of trashbags in Darwin. For some reason despite being at such a low point I was always surrounded by genuinely good people and a shitload of alcohol- I'm still keep in touch with all of them.
I found myself back in Sydney and the universe threw me another bone. I landed with 70 bucks at 630am one crisp, Monday morning in September. I went to the Tea Gardens to meet up with a former work colleague who offered me a place to stay for a few days while I sorted something out. I ordered a beer, and sat down surrounded by all my tatty luggage like some kind of alcoholic gypsy. The barman came up and asked for a cigarette- I was running low, but of course I said yes. We talked. He was excited about his month long holiday to Thailand in three days time, but stressed to all shit because his housesitter had bailed on him and he couldn't find anyone to look after his place with such short notice...
Yes- sometimes life chucks you a complete freebie when you expect it least and need it most. I started back at work that night, and had a place to stay for a month while I saved enough money for a place of my own. Met John (my current flatmate), reestablished myself in the nightshift family, and spent the next two years working with people who genuinely cared about me and essentially became my life. The company kept me in Australia but the nightshift made it home. I became happy, content, and (gasp) stable because of the people I was surrounded by. It's difficult doing permanent nightshift but they made it enjoyable- we all looked forward to going to work no matter how hung over we were from the previous morning- we'd cope with Midnight Maccas runs and more beer the following morning. Leaving them was hard- I had to for the good of my health, and I do still see them, but it's not quite the same.
Getting wasted with good mates- could I ever really give that up?
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