Hello! You are now reading my latest 'letter home to the folks'. A lot has happened since those crazy days of June when I last blogged as a fresh and spunky 26 year old. I am now a withered and haggard 27 year old, as it was my birthday in July.
I'm still in Perth, living with Josh, Maria and Dave. The relentless piss rain of the Australian winter is giving way to sunny springtime. Bunny rabbits playfully frolic in gay meadows and past splashing waterfalls. Such pleasant surroundings cannot help but rejuvenate the soul.
I stayed in Perth for work, and now I rather bloody like the place. It has a small-town charm all of its own, yet it is free of Deliverance-style inbreeding. My computer monkey work at the agribusiness place (otherwise known as Castle Greyskull) finished several weeks ago and I've had a few different jobs since then.
First my agency sent me to a suburb called O'Connor, to a bus depot, to fill in for the Human Resources department while their HR girl went on leave. I am not a girl as such, but I did very well in this role.
For me the term 'HR department' normally conjures up images of sterile skyscrapers, faceless suits and needless written warnings, but this HR department was none of the above. It was a portacabin. With a desk and computer in it. I liked the bus company's low-key approach!
There wasn't much to do apart from go through all the bus driver application forms that came in the post, and phone up the least scary and unhinged people to offer them interviews. I got to fulfil my lifelong dream of working in a portacabin. And it gave me a new-found respect for Perth bus drivers, who are a cheery and helpful bunch despite their modest wages.
But my cushy role as HR girl soon ended after the regular HR girl came back from New Zealand. Then I got to play at being a boy, working as a 'bloke in a warehouse'! The agency gave me a single day's work with a betting company, packing promotional gifts into envelopes to be sent out to competition winners (baseball caps, rugby balls, umbrellas and the like). This was possibly the most tedious and mundane job I have had ever since I worked as a chip shop potato preparer in Meltham. I'm like a modern-day George Orwell, doing shit jobs then writing great books about them (sort of).
At that point the teat of opportunity ran dry, and I spent a week as an unemployed layabout, searching for jobs at the library then going home and writing whiny entries in my diary about how shit it is to be an unemployed layabout. Thankfully this period of moping and introspection soon ended when the newly-refilled teat of opportunity came knocking on my door, to mix a metaphor or two. I then suckled on the teat of opportunity. And got an opportunity. (Isn't it nice when a teat knocks on your door?)
Anyway, the situation improved because I got a job temping for local government. Oh the joy of sailing into familiar clerical waters! On my first day I discovered my workplace was actually a huge great big skyscraper with a revolving restaurant on the top!
High on the 17th floor, with great views overlooking the city and surrounding river, there exists something called the Office of Public Sector Standards. Basically they have to monitor all the government agencies to ensure no employees are being mistreated or unfairly passed over for promotion. It's like the Batman of the admin world, and as a minion in this department I'm like a non-homosexual Robin.
I've been working there for two weeks and it's actually going bloody well. They've been so pleased with my job of being a non-homosexual Robin they've extended my contract till October, given me a payrise and promoted me to Research Officer! (I don't know what that equates to in Batman terms... quasi-Batman maybe?)
While the ox of my employment has been roaming free in the fatty pastures of success, I have been through a few life-changing and inspiring experiences. During the earlier part of my travels, I saw a lot of wonderful things and met some great people, but despite all of this I didn't feel I'd really grown or learnt anything as a person. The whole purpose of doing this travel was to broaden my mind and get some answers about what my life is about, and despite being fortunate enough to see many of Asia's wonderful spectacles, my mission was in danger of falling flat on its arse.
In June I got wind of a personal development seminar happening in Perth called Relationships and You. These seminars are run by an Irish guy called Mitch Behan, who does this sort of thing full-time. Rather an inspiring chap too, I must say. He would be the first to point out he's not Jesus or anything, but he's been through a lot of ups and downs in his time and dedicates his life to helping people overcome their problems and realise their true potential.
I liked what I saw at the information evening and signed up there and then. I spent a weekend with Mitch and eleven strangers on the course, and after undergoing some tough challenges, the twelve of us emerged unburdened of our collective woes, as firm friends. While I have to remain vague about what went on during the course (for proprietary reasons) I will say that it was a profoundly uplifting and inspiring experience that has left me with renewed optimism, strength and self-belief. (I would recommend the course to anybody, but unfortunately there are no plans yet to introduce it to the UK.)
As you may know dear friend, last year I endured something of a nightmare on my birthday, when I got pick-pocketed and had to cut short my trip to the Ukraine. This year I was determined to put those troubles firmly in the past and have a f**king blast!
On 20th July, a couple of weeks after the seminar, I met up with my buddies from the course in Fremantle. We enjoyed a slap-up meal at Cicerello's - a huge fish 'n' chip restaurant on the quayside - then lots of beers next door in a giant brewery/pub called Little Creatures. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday (if a little on the chilly side) and we had ourselves a grand old time. It wasn't the most ostentatious birthday celebration ever, but 27 is the age of rock star death so I figure I should avoid coke and hooker binges for the forseeable future!
A lot happened in July and the month was not without its ups and downs. I've always been something of a frustrated entrepeneur - printing my own newspapers, selling my CDs at gigs to widespread public indifference; you name it, I've tried it in the name of making a quick buck. Actually, just the selling CDs - I added the newspapers thing to pad out the list a bit.
Anyways, my housemate Dangerous Dave asked me one day if I'd like to make some extra money. Thinking he was asking me to rob a bank or be in a porno, I asked him what he meant. He said he'd just been introduced to a company called ACN by a ladyfriend, and proceeded to show me a slick promotional DVD. Shouty rich man Donald Trump promptly appeared on the laptop, waxing lyrical about a glorious new investment opportunity in telecoms. Hey, if Donald Trump endorses it, it must be a good idea!
In essence, you buy an ACN sales license then go about obtaining customers and reps for the company. Every time one of your customers pays a phone bill, you get paid a percentage of the money. The reps you recruit form part of your business, and every time one of their customers pays a bill, you receive a percentage of that too. Meanwhile your reps recruit their own reps, and you earn off them too! Month after month, year after year, you keep earning more and more money - no effort required.
Sounds too good to be true doesn't it? That's because it is. I know that in hindsight. Pyramid schemes have existed since the dawn of time. Only these days they are cleverly embroidered with terms like 'network marketing' and 'warm selling' to try and remove the stigma.
ACN are a growing worldwide communications company who don't rely on traditional advertising, but rather the aforementioned network marketing and warm selling. This involves getting reps to pitch the company's services to their friends and family, thus buying a form of advertising no TV commercial can match in credibility - for a fraction of the cost of traditional advertising.
Man, I was dubious, but the DVD said all these great things about using ACN to achieve lasting financial freedom, quit your day job, achieve all your wildest dreams, etc. etc. As I watched, a succession of permatanned, dimpled, smiling Americans were wheeled out in front of the camera to make blithe testimonials like, "yeah, me and my friends enjoy a jet-set lifestyle thanks to ACN, man. We're like a bunch of rock stars, we travel around in luxury, having a blast! It's totally radical, to the max!"
The camera then cut to a montage of the people frolicking in limousines and fancy restaurants, laughing and joking without a care in the world. (Presumably they were laughing at all the people who say pyramid schemes don't work.)
If I have one failing it's that I sometimes forget the end doesn't always justify the means. It's like the time I torched that orphanage just so I could bake some muffins on the roof. All my life I've wanted money so I can be free and make music all day, and not kow-tow to some stupid boss with multiple personality disorders.
To cut a long story short, I naively allowed myself to be wowed by it, and signed up as a rep, paying $495 for an ACN sales license. Then a couple of days later, the bullshit spin from the positive corporate messages began to fade in my mind, revealing the bare truth. I realised there was no way I could stoop to warm-sell anything to my friends and family, and I withdrew from the organisation immediately.
Fortunately I got my money refunded - though many people in my situation have been left out of pocket. The way I see it, I sold my soul - but then I got it back, with a few dents and scratches on! And in doing so I glimpsed Hell.
I saw the company's stifling corporate culture, and the obedience and dedication it demands of its reps. I heard the stories of people who'd 'made it' in ACN - superstar salespeople supposedly raking in millions of US dollars a month through their huge phalanxes of customers and reps. I met the reps at ground level who slaved away night and day building their mini-empires without success; people too far down the line to ever go back or to stop believing the lie.
The basic truth is that these types of company are designed to make more money off the reps than the customers. In the main ACN attracts a professional crowd as its reps, with a wide variety of ages present, including a sizeable contingent of brillcreamed Asian businessmen. These people aren't fools, but it goes to show how powerful the herd mentality can be. You're told to sell a dream you have no personal proof of actually working. I for one couldn't do it. I never sold a single phone, and I was happy to walk away and carry on my clock-punching life. Working hard for an honest wage never felt so good, or so liberating.
Happily reunited with my soul, a couple of weekends ago I finally had my first proper travel adventure in Australia! Some friends and I drove 300 kilometres south of Perth to stay at my housemate Josh's mum's house out in the woods, near the remote town of Kirup. This short leap on the map became a magnificent odyssey into the unknown. The lush green of the countryside passed by in a magical drunken blur.
The house Josh's stepdad and mum built in their woodland is amazing - it's completely self-sufficient, running off solar power, with all its water supplied by a rainwater tank on the hill! Some day I want to retire to the Western Australian woods and build my very own self-sufficient dream home. And at the present rate, if I keep on selling CDs at my gigs for the next million years or so, I'll have the funds to do just that!
So here's to accomplishing your dreams. Until next time, "catch ya"!
