Okay, I leave Melbourne for…what, five years? Just over five years. It’s not that long in the grand scheme of things, but I come back from my job in the Malaysian office and the city has gone nuts. There’s cults and weird clubs everywhere, about a zillion odd attractions (Lemur Sanctuary sounds cool though), there are monks with animal powers tearing up car parks, an apartment building just for cat lovers, a high-profile Romanian family on the covers of all the magazines who are clearly vampires and no one seems to notice, television has gone utterly batty, and don’t even get me STARTED on Keymore. That manor house should be bombed from orbit.
I had a few home rewiring problems with my new flat in Bayside. Electricians are all now part of a religion that worships the almighty spark lord, I was guessing, but fortunately not. As with many workmen, electricians are all the same. I suppose rewiring, fuse boxes, transformers…they’ve all stayed the same and still need servicing, despite Lawrence Corp churning out world-changing technology every Tuesday. I don’t trust them as a company, personally, but I can at least call a residential electrician and know what I’m getting. Heck, at this stage, I’m thinking of quitting my job and BECOMING an electrician. I’ve heard some stuff about office jobs, like how there was some kind of air conditioning civil war, and how one of our branches was converted into an ‘office of the future’ with robots and everything, and another branch has mandatory jive time with a disco ball coming from the ceiling and oh gosh, I need to see if any of the local residential electricians in the area are hiring. Like, right now. I’ll make coffee and learn on the job, I swear. Just get me out of here before something even wackier happens. We’re in Melbourne…it’s only a matter of time.