Mornings are funny. Somehow I always
seem to end up having the morning shift here in Australia whenever I
manage to find some work. Today I started at 6 o'clock at the
airport, so I had to wake up at four and catch a train at five. In
addition to me there was only one other person up so early, an
Italian roommate of ours who works on a construction site. Only me
and the construction workers are up in the early morning when the red
light ladies working in our street finish their nighttime activities and go home.
That said roommate asked me how I was feeling this beautiful morning
and I said I'm a bit tired. ”You mean you are coming home now?”
Well, not quite but it reminded me that indeed, some people actually
come home from their amusements at this time.
I arrived at the airport too early, as I
usually do. The company's contact person was late, as is fit in a
country where people have no worries. However he seemed a bit
stressed out, kept running around aimlessly and I wanted to advise
him that stress is an unproductive activity. Yeah, we were supposed
to start at six but surprise, surprise, there had been some kind of
delay during the night (?) and we had to sit and wait until nine
before we got to work. The work, too, was behind the schedule, had
been since yesterday. While waiting for the actual work to start we had
to acquire our badges. With red capital letters it read ”escort
required” on the badge. You can't just wander around at the airport
as you wish.
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| Christmas preparations have started |
I was the only woman in the group, so
naturally I got the easiest and least physical job of writing down
the number of rubbish bags the cleaners brought in. Everyone said ”is
that really your job?” This despite the fact that I was the
only one clever enough to notice that the bin is going to fit through
the door if we'd just close the lid. I saw in my mind how the men are
going to get their hammers and start to widen the door. Thank me for
saving the door.
So, I sat ten hours at the airport, writing down the
number of rubbish bags, and a security guard was sitting next to me,
because escort required. We had our daily dose of drama when I wanted
to use the facilities and the security guard told me she doesn't have
the key card to open the door for me. She asked the one of the
cleaning ladies open the door for me. ”Well, my key card can't open
that door, you are the security here, try yours.” ”Well, I
don't have that kind of card, I
only have the red key card, it doesn't open the backstage doors”:
And I was imagining a long night sitting in there, waiting for
someone to finally find us.
At
some point one of these changing security guards sitting next to me
said ”At least you have more to do than I.” Yes, quite right,
that guy was paid to watch me write down numbers on the paper.
