Workin' hard for the money

First of all, congratulations to all of you who made it through that marathon of a blog post the other day. I'll try not be so... verbose.

Now where was I?

Ah, yes. Employment.

As I mentioned, I got two jobs, both of which started on Monday. My job at the Comfort Inn Outback is basic housekeeping, but I've also been trained to do the laundry. My new friend Bawang taught me everything I need to know about cleaning rooms and making beds. Lately he's been trying to convince me to go home to Indonesia with him in November or December. The island he lives on doesn't have any cars or motorbikes or an airport or anything; he says that you just lie an the beach and go diving all the day long. It's pretty darn tempting. Cleaning rooms is all well and good, but I really enjoy doing laundry. I get to be by myself in the laundry room, folding sheets and towels and ironing table cloths and singing at singing at the top of my lungs. It rocks.

Job number 2: Overlander's Steakhouse. My first couple of nights on the job I was food-running; not too bad, kind of a flash back to my days at Carlos and Charlies back in high school. Last night I was "trained" on bar. It was pretty much by the skin of my teeth. Far more stressful, a lot more to be on top of. It wouldn't be so bad, but when drink orders come back, it just says the name of the beer or wine, not whether it is beer or wine. So while this wouldn't be an issue back in the states, where I know the names of beers and wines, but here, I am clueless.

The place itself is pretty funny. The manager puts on a show of being a grumpy old bugger, but I think it's all a facade. He seems like kind of a pushover to me. The steakhouse itself is full of outback kitsch. There are saddles and hides everywhere and the music is all of the Australian standards: "Tie Me Kangaroo Down", "Home Among the Gumtrees", etc. And they sell meat. Kangaroo, emu, crocodile, beef, camel, barramundi. Pretty intense, man.

Having the jobs is all well and good, but what's important is how much they're paying me. And the answer is: a lot. I'm getting $17.70 an hour at the hotel and somewhere in the neighborhood of $19 at the steakhouse. I'll have to pay a lot of tax, but I should get it all back when I leave the country. Basically, I'll be able to continue living the lavish life to which I've grown accustomed. That is, I'll be able to travel where ever I want. Which is why I'm here.

So I may not have a day off in the foreseeable future, but I'll be able to go on my New Zealand adventure!

Life is good, friends. Very good.

Peace.