Drama aussies

Seven hours of travelling. That's almost equivalent to the time it takes to fly from Sydney to Kuala Lumpur.
Seven hours of travelling is no fun, especially when you're hungry, tired and not really looking forward to training.
Seven hours of travelling, just to get from Wolly to Western Port, Victoria.

But I certainly didn't mind the free trip to Melbourne, only I had to wait an agonising three days before the training at Hastings was finally over.

For those who are clueless where Hastings is, it's in Mornington Peninsular. Hastings is the main industrial area because of my company's many years of existence in Western Port. We put up at one of Peppers Resorts there, and not surprising, they have golf courses of which a couple of people took advantage of. They commented over dinner that the golf courses here are so much better than any of those they've played at Wolly. I'm like, dude, get real. You need to get out of Wolly more often and see the world. Okay, maybe that was a tad too ambitious. How about me just frankly telling you that everything, except the beaches, are better than Wolly in every sense? I kept those silent comments in my head and continued to enjoy my king prawns.

Training over the first two days was quite a bore. Lucky me has completed the same course a year ago, of which my department forked out AUD$1000 for. Now I'm attending a repeat, generously organised by the human resource department. The last day was dedicated for site tours - something I was interested to have a look at, mainly because I may be contemplating taking a position here in the future, if ever anybody still wants me by then.

Interestingly enough, there was a brawl over alcohol rights during this otherwise boring company-sponsored event. I would have thought those bloody aussies would be grateful over the free flow of alcohol after 6.30pm, which we normally have in our previous training getaways last year. They were upset that the bar would discontinue serving alcohol to them after 9.30pm. The waitresses were also instructed not to sell them alcohol. Rumour has it that we were being judged harshly because the previous group of graduates who had the same training course a week earlier had taken upon themself to purchase alcohol and consume them on the bus on their way to the premise. To top it all up, there was a confirmed report that the first year graduates recruited early this year got drunk and did silly stuff.

When the HR lady noticed the slabs of beer when that group alighted from the bus, she was furious, hence the alcohol curfew. So serious was the scuffle and dissatisfaction over alcohol cut-offs that a few of them verbally abused the poor HR coordinator. I do feel sorry for her but unfortunately, she didn't handle the situation professionally. I refuse to be involved in any part of this chaotic drama that had unfolded. Some wondered why I refuse to have beer chats or even stand up for them. In the name of alcohol? I'd like to keep my job, thank you very much.

When I finally arrived at Southern Cross station, previously Spencer St station, after a full-on development course, I was very much relieved. The station looks real funky now, but what's with the name Southern Cross? It's not anywhere south of Melbourne CBD, nor any cross-like features prominent within sight, unless my eyes are going bonkers.

Anyway, I spent the next couple of days in Phillip Island. Oh joy, I was travelling towards Mornington again where I had just returned less than 24 hours before, but the trip is another journal by itself. Next time!