Here's how it happened: I used to work at The Eagle On The Hill. This was a pub turned Last-Drive-Thru-On-The-Interstate turned fine-dining restaurent turned Schnittie-Tuesday-Local. It turned other things after I was fired for asking for too many Friday and Saturday nights off (every Friday and Saturday), but this story isn't to do with that.
EOTH had a great view over the Adelaide Plane. Evening dinner guests would always try to book the few tables which perched right by the window so that they would have something decent to gaze at other than one other wolfing down chicken schnitzels the size of paving stones. It could even be described as romantic and most nights there were a couple of bookings of 'table for two, rum for four'.
There was even a motel downstairs. You know what I mean. That's right: 'Room for the night, thanks mate. Send down another bottle of Nepenthe.'
Anyway, you get the tone. Romantic and affordable. The way to every man's heart, (but surprisingly few women).
This one night I was on front of house, greeting customers. My job was to say hello, show them to a table, pull out their chairs and (after pushing the chairs back in) take their drink order and any subsequent shit a nervous first dater might feel it necessary to dish out in order to feel like a big man.
These two didn't just arrive, they rocked up. Nobody 'arrives' in a Commodore ute with truck mud guards. He was resplendent in Ed Harry's finest party shirt and she had decided on a dazzling silk-look halter-neck gown complete with black lacy bra, all designed to perfectly accentuate the large piping shrike tattoo on her shoulder blade. A true South Aussie girl and well worth a night of wining and dining at the famous EOTH.
Now pay good attention because it's going to move quickly from here.
I smile.
I show them to the prime table, front row centre for the night lights of Adelaide.
I pull out her chair.
She sits.
I ask her what she'll have to drink this fine evening.
He tells her to get whatever she wants.
She orders a Bundy and coke.
I pull out his chair.
I ask what sir will have.
He remains standing.
Eye to eye with me he says, 'Large pineapple juice, thanks.'
He winks.
He grins.
He sits.
The end.
Men are generally sneaky fuckers.
* If you don't understand, ask a man over the age of sixteen. If he doesn't understand, he's lying.
***
GTH - Mele was close, but Miles takes it away. Two from two. Nobody else gets points because nobody accused me of being a sneaky fucker (even though I just about burst a damn kidney not laughing in the story above) for fabricating the entire tale of Johnny Wade: Stephanie Rice Picture Tearer Upper.
"... finally throwing the pieces into the air and yelling 'Snowstorm'."??
Come on! That's gold!
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An explanation of The Joy Division Litmus Test
Although it may now be lost in the mysts of thyme, the poll below is still relevant to this blog. In the winter of 2008, Mele and I went to live in Queensland. In order to survive, I bluffed my way into a job at a Coffee Club.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
ReplyDeleteGood for the complexion to!
Geez I don't get it
ReplyDeleteIs this something I can google?
TOoS - "I know we just met, but I'm worried. You seem protein deficient."
ReplyDeleteSquib - When I've finished sniggering boyishly into my hand at your almost-Freudian Slip, I suggest you investigate The Other, other Sam's website.
oh my goodness!
ReplyDeletelol
haha.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if it was something he was doing or a request from the Shrike tattooed company..?
GTH: Franzy dressed to the kilter with Ed Haz's finest attire - chances are at the AUHCEOSB or a similarly classy function. Not only that, but surrounded by sneaky sneaky men.
Oh(blushing). I think I've learned something here today.....
ReplyDeleteSquib - I misread "google" the first time and thought you wrote "gargle".
ReplyDeleteI swear I almost wet myself.
Franzy - In an interesting parallel, I was informed recently by one of my pregnant friends that pregnant women should not eat pineapple...
Squib - You win the prize for most honest reaction!
ReplyDeleteShippy - You know, I've never thought of it that way ... although it makes the most sense.
Kath - Learn something new every day, even if it's ...
TOoS - Thank you - this was the almost-Freudian slip I was referring to.
But what do all the pregnant women in pineapple-rich areas eat then?
An interesting one - an obvious meaning, well, to me, but yet, an obvious soft drink slogan, if not used, soon to be used by a multinational corporation.
ReplyDeleteHowever, soft drinks, represented by the slogn, are by definition easy to obtain, partially satisfying, and relatively cheap, just like her... Thus, with the soft drink slogan, it is a sly sideways glance at the apparent loose social status, so to speak, of the average "girl", although obviously with the generational shift in political paradigms, we can assume there was a much later twist when she slept with his brother?