This week’s adventure in Brisvegas is just about at it’s harrowing conclusion. It’s harrowing, DELAYED conclusion. I’m sitting in Brisbane airport in a seat carefully chosen as to have a clear line of sight between the Qantas customer service board in case of further delays (I’m cautious after that awful “delay creep” episode) and the overhead television showing Romancing the Stone. At this stage, I should be okay to get home in time for Spelling Bee.
Some highlights and lowlights of the week just passed:
- An endless stream of late, annoying, stinky and incompetent taxi drivers who manage to turn every minute of every trip into an agonisingly frustrating journey. This was punctuated by the odd conversation with the drivers as they told me they were making about $7 an hour, and one South African driver who was extremely excited
- The arrival of a sore throat, which has now transformed into a man flu of terrific proportions. If there was ever a “chesty sneeze”, I have it. It sounds more like I’m trying to cough up a piece of steak that I’ve had rotting in my throat for at least a decade.
- I was notified early on Monday morning that my colleague wasn’t going to be joining me this week, so a sales executive flew up Monday morning to help relieve the pressure on me. Then, when he got a special email on Monday night, he flew out Tuesday morning leaving me solo again. My boss then flew up on Thursday for a few hours to help out, but otherwise I’ve been doing double duty up here. As my first onsite project with this company, stepping up and taking on this responsibility wasn’t expected, but at least diving into the deep end can be personally rewarding.
- I caught up with Becky and Bec in a great little restaurant that I would have happily recommended until Bec found herself violently ill afterwards. It was the only place in Brisbane I’d found so far that had that cultural “Melbourne” feel.
- On my way out of my apartment in Brisbane I heard some shouting coming from another room. My curiosity was aided by the fact that the elevator skipped past me 5 or 6 times, leaving me to hearing the barrage of white-hot rage directed at “Sarah” by some man who was entirely unhappy with her. I listened for any hint of violence, but it seemed to be purely vocal. This man was seriously unstable to be exhibiting rage with such intensity for at least 10 minutes steady. I was glad to be checking out of that floor.
Overall, a decent week, but glad to be on my way home.
Although I didn’t get the post this before my flight, I’m posting it now because I’m too lazy to reshape it.
Late postage? I can’t wait to hear your amazing stories when you get back this week. Have fun!