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Showing posts from November, 2015

The hash whisperer.

I don't like restaurants. I don't like the cost, I don't like the noise, I don't like being a prisoner to some idiot waiter, I don't like other people's at-table habits, and I don't like sitting in a place that feels like a nineteenth century workhouse dining room. I'd rather eat at the GMH canteen, or Coles cafeteria; where the dress standard is higher, the customers are more respectful to those around them, the food doesn't cost a fortune, and the serves are bigger. The other week my wife had to go to a work dinner at one of those barn-like renovated pubs where the noise level is like an airport and a glass of wine costs $8.95. Her meal was a pork chop that cost $34 because it had some freekeh and a five-cent-coin-sized mound of smoked onion puree next to it, and you had to pay extra for something called a 'side' which, translated, means the rest of your meal. I ate at home alone that night. We had had corned beef earlier in the week, and

Library gets a makeover.

From the weekend vacant position ads, a job at one of Australia's leading schools, PLC: Director of Innovation The Director of Innovation will develop and execute the vision to re-conceptualise library; space, staff and services, to create an Innovation Centre at PLC. The position plays a strategic and transformational role by providing opportunities for creativity and entrepreneurship through developing innovative and inviting spaces and a range of experiences that delight and engage students and staff as well as offering community building experiences with the wider PLC community. Just read that last sentence again. It is a masterpiece of the genre; an over-long piece of jargon-riddled bureaucrat-speak devoid of any real meaning. Who do they want? An architect? A painter? A set designer? A performance artist? Who knows. Probably they don't, either. On it goes: The incumbent (sic – but they mean the appointee) will ensure the delivery of information learning and literary serv

The Beer Pitch (Part Two).

IN PART ONE , CREATIVE DIRECTOR JUSTIN IS PRESENTING A BEER CAMPAIGN TO BREWERY CLIENT EUGENE IONESCO (SIC). PLEASANTRIES OUT OF THE WAY, EUGENE ASKS FOR A COFFEE BEFORE GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS. NOW READ ON. JUNE, THE LAST REMAINING TEA LADY IN THE ADVERTISING INDUSTRY, CRASHES THROUGH THE DOOR WITH A TROLLEY LOAD OF COFFEE CUPS. SHE SAYS NOTHING BUT PLONKS A LOADED TRAY ON THE BOARDROOM TABLE AND WADDLES OUT AGAIN, SLAMMING THE DOOR. EUGENE: I see June's in her usual high spirits today. JUSTIN: Every time there's a pitch on she gets more stressed than anyone else in the entire agency because it throws her routine out. A presentation with sixty million dollars in the balance, and June's grumpy about ten extra cups to wash up. Plus, I figure she's lost us several new accounts just by spilling coffee on the MD or being rude to the head of marketing. EUGENE: Yes, well as clients we do factor in the quality of service at a potential agency. That's only natural.
Aberfeldie, Saturday 14 November. Left to right: Tom and William. Picture: Gerard Feain (Tom's earlier athletics career here .)

Throw books in a box and pay later.

This is probably the best Christmas shopping-for-kids idea I've ever heard. Local bookshop Pictures & Pages is having a grown-ups-only night, during which you get to enjoy champagne and nibbles while you walk around the shop pulling books off the shelf and throwing them in a box. You don't even need your wallet; they give you until December 3 to pay, and after that they will keep your book purchases hidden away out the back until you sneak them home on Christmas eve. That will have the kids scratching their heads after they've searched the house for their presents while you're at work. Interfering little brats. * Pictures & Pages 400 Sydney Rd, Coburg Grown-ups only night 19 November 7pm-9pm .

How many Herald Sun reporters does it take to question the appropriateness of a policeman firing at a gansgter who has just run him down?

Victoria Police recently decided that OH&S issues trump pursuing drug-affected criminals in cars. That decision has given licence to the latter to simply drive at or around police to escape apprehension, with predictable results : "The driver of that vehicle accelerated hard towards the police member and ran him down," said Acting Superintendent David Griffin. But may a policeman fire his gun to attempt to save his own life? Herald Sun reporters Kara Irving, Wes Hosking and Jon Kaila (strength in numbers obviously being a necessary requisite for Herald Sun staff at police incidents) ask the question: Supt Griffin ... would not comment on whether discharging the firearm was the best response under the circumstances.

That race, and that girl.

Yes, I watched it. We were up in the hills on Tuesday at a cousin's house for a picnic for the children's grandmother, and after lunch at Belgrave Lake - as pretty a place as you could hope to have a Cup Day lunch - back to the house. The children had drawn horses cut from the morning paper's form guide, and one had Big Orange who led from the start to the 700, and they screamed at the television. Then the field bunched up into a sea of horses, and 300 out a green and purple flash came out of the scrum. We didn't know until the close-up on Michelle Payne's face. Goosebumps. I had earlier read her interview in which she said she had a good feeling about the race. Not the brash kind of good feeling where you're just talking up your chances; but something else. Might have been her mother, or her sister. She lost the former at six months; the latter a few years ago. Youngest of ten, and lost her mother at six months. We didn't know the result until the vision

Friday: June the tea lady shuts the agency.

5.30 ON A FRIDAY AFTERNOON. DAVID, THE ADVERTISING AGENCY OWNER, STROLLS INTO THE BOARDROOM, LOOKS AROUND AND SIGHS. HE IS TIRED BUT CONTENT. ANOTHER DIFFICULT WEEK HAS ENDED WITH NO CLIENT DEFECTIONS, NO STAFF TANTRUMS, NO RESIGNATIONS, AND NO FIST-FIGHTS. WHILE DAVID IS THINKING ABOUT WHETHER TO PLAY GOLF AT THE WEEKEND OR SIMPLY HANG OUT AT HIS DOUBLE-STOREY GEORGIAN IN TOORAK, JUNE THE TEA LADY WADDLES INTO THE BOARDROOM. JUNE: I'm closing up in twenty minutes, David. DAVID (THINKS): I own an agency turning over a hundred million a year and the fucking tea lady is kicking me out of my own building. DAVID (SAYS): That’s fine, June. I'll be out in fifteen. WHILE DAVID RULES HIS AGENCY WITH AN IRON FIST HE HAS BEEN SUCCESSFUL IN ADVERTISING MAINLY BECAUSE HE HAS FOLLOWED THE GOLDEN RULE: NO MATTER HOW AGGRESSIVE YOU ARE TO CLIENTS, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU ABUSE YOUR ACCOUNT TEAM OR SHOUT AT CREATIVE, YOU NEVER, EVER, EVER DISRESPECT THE TEA LADY. NOBODY DISRESPECTS