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It’s only taken me eighteen months, half a dozen or so whingey blog posts, at least ten rejected applications, six months of questionable sanity and the combined efforts of prayer chains across three states, but last Friday I finally walked out of the credit union for ever.
The period of limbo between when you give your two weeks’ notice and when you actually walk out the door is always a strange one. People ask all sorts of inane questions like “Are you going to miss us?” or “Are you looking forward to starting your new job?” or (possibly the dumbest) “You know you’ve only got three days left here?”
The last day in particular was particularly bizarre. Obviously I spent most of it packing things away and getting ready to vacate my office. Of course, having maintained a clean sheet on discrepancies for a year since taking up the ops job, it would be that on my last day the safe count was $2000 short. Fortunately the money showed up about three hundred kilometres away in a community outside Katherine, so it was fine, but that was a pretty crazy way to spend my last afternoon at the company.
This week I’m settling into my new job with the NT Government. It’s already about six times less stressful than my old job, and that’s with the foot and a half deep pile of resources I need to read just to get my head around everything. But there again it’s nice to finally be in a job where knowing lots of stuff is actually valued. But that’s another post for another time.
Make of that what you will.
Garry with 2 Rs
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What the hell has happened to my blog?
I remember back in the day I used to write about important political issues, significant events of the day and cutting edge social commentary. At the very least, they were tales with a strong moral message for the family. These days it seems my blog is more self-obsessed than ever, which probably goes a fair way to explaining why I find myself with nothing to write about so often.
Well forgive my sudden change of tack, but I feel compelled this week to jump back on the “look how important I am” bandwagon for just a moment, because while the degree to which I take anything seriously is debatable, this stuff matters.
Last week a government report named the Finkelstein Review was released, providing recommendations for reforms to the Australian media system. In broad terms, it didn’t really say anything revolutionary: media standards are something we should be concerned about, but really it's not that bad. It turns out the idiocy at News of the World was specifically an English problem. Better luck next witch hunt.
But one sneaky recommendation the review makes is the overhauling of the decentralised self-regulatory bodies used by existing media companies, and the establishment of a government controlled licensing and regulatory board.
No two ways about it; this is flat out wrong.
The idea behind the proposal is that in the digital age it is far too easy for any hack with a smart phone to call himself a journalist and upload whatever content he likes to the internet, regardless of accuracy, propriety or ethics. The council would require all reporters with the Australian media industry and, interestingly, all producers of blogs with more than 41 hits per average day, to be registered as licensed journalists.
This isn’t a new idea; the idea of a journalism license to prove intellectual capacity and responsibility in the press has been around for decades. And as attractive as it sounds (I'll be the first to publicly lambaste the Australian media for shoddy quality. I'm also fairly quick to use the word 'lambaste' in general. I really like it), the reason we don’t do it has been around for just as long: You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t write in a liberal democracy.
Yes, we need standards and ethics in the media, that’s why the Australian Press Council and The Australian Communications and Media Authority already exist. The problem with these organisations is that they are part of the media system itself, a fact which always lends itself to criticism about accountability. But that’s the whole point of a free press. No-one gets to tell the press what it can and can’t write, least of all the government. And you can't silence someone because she doesn't meet your criteria for qualification. Ever. You can criticise her, ignore her, counter her or lambaste her. But you can't silence her.
Sure, we want media content to be appropriate. But do we want the government telling us what that means? Sure, we demand that the news always be true. But do we want the government telling us what is and isn’t true? Now imagine that the party you don’t support is in power and ask yourself the same questions. This stuff really does matter.
Fortunately (well…) for the free world, Cum Tacent Clament doesn’t rate anything near 41 hits a day, so you can rest assured that the steady flow of biased, inappropriate nonsense will continue long after the dark shroud of government censorship has descended on the cyberverse. When that day comes, I and my eight followers shall lead the glorious revolution, overthrow the establishment and usher in a new era of freedom, irresponsibility and ice cream for all.
Make of that what you will.
Garry with 2 Rs
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So I've taken two weeks leave from my job and taken up a temporary internship with the NT News. It's not everyone's idea of a fun way to spend their holidays, but for me it's a great way to get my name and face known in the newsroom, with a view to getting a more permanent and less token position there some time down the track.
And for someone who enjoys writing, it's actually pretty close to a vacation, particularly compared with the stress of managing people and cash that I usually face. I'm taking the same sort of internship position that would normally be given to high school students or people still finishing their journalism studies.
But I have finished my journalism studies; quite some time ago. So, for me, spending a day sitting in an office just writing up media releases and following stories with government departments is the mental equivalent of lying by the pool in Bali, which is what everyone at work thinks I should be doing anyway.
Being the work experience guy also has other perks; you get to handle the thoroughly ridiculous stories that no one else wants to go near, but which suit the 2 Rs sense of humour and local awesomeness down to the ground. My favourite so far? A government department's specially written press release rejecting calls to release a herd of elephants in the outback to control weeds. Having said that, the Palmerston Mayor who got himself convicted of assault with a golf club this afternoon was pretty spectacular too. And my placement is only half way through!
I love Darwin.
Garry with 2 Rs
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How awesome was February?
I swear it was so good, they had to give it an extra day this year just to fit in all the extra awesomeness floating around the place. It would have been enough that I was finally able to get a One Body service going, and then got to spend two weeks playing journalist at the NT News. But there's more and it’s about time I shared the news that can even top all that.
I was out with friends last night for dinner. We were discussing the merits of various TV shows, because apparently we have no actual life, when the woman sitting next to me made the most amazing revelation:
“I don’t really think David Tennant is attractive.”
The room went quiet. The pianist stopped playing and started staring. Somewhere a baby whimpered to itself in the night.
“What’s the matter with you guys?” she asked.
“You’re being absurd,” I explained. “Nobody thinks David Tennant isn’t hot. Hell, even I think he’s hot.”
“Yes,” explained the strange woman, “But that’s just because you’re a geek.”
At this point I’d heard enough. Normally I’m not given to overt signs of outrage (I just post them on my blog like the good little product of my culture I am), but I felt I could not let this slide, especially in the presence of ladies. I felt it was my cultural and gender stereotypical obligation to correct the error by tipping the thoughtless wench out the window into the marina. So I did.
Also I got a new job this week. I start in a week and a half at the Aboriginal Interpreter Service. Farewell credit union, hello governmental bureaucracy, but at least this time I’ll be working on something I’m interested in. I’ll let you know how I get on once it all starts in March. I’m sure you can’t wait for that one.
Be kind to foxes.
Garry with 2 Rs
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Ask any young Territorian what the biggest problem facing young adults is and the ones who think like me (the others aren't really worth listening to) will tell you "housing prices". Like me, those people are a little self obsessed and completely wrong because, when you think about it, drugs, alcoholism, violence and the yawning chasm between the standards of living in cities and remote communities are far more important than whether or not a goofy white office worker has any money left for the movies after paying rent. But shut up. This piece is about housing prices, okay? Geez...
A few months ago I made enquiries with my bank about home loans. I wasn't really feeling optimistic as I have no savings, no assets and a collection of debts that would make the Greek government blush. Just as I expected, I was told to go sort out my car loan, HECS debt and credit card and then come back. Fine. Who expects help from a bank anyway?
The problem in Darwin is the insane amount that housing costs. In Australia, only central Sydney has a higher mean house price. This tends to lock low to middle income earners like me out of the market more or less permanently. And it doesn't really matter what the government does about releasing more land or adding grants for first homebuyers: Demand for housing is so high that estate agents and property developers can charge whatever they like, confident in the knowledge that while normal (well...) people like me can't afford it, investors and and large corporations will happily pay half a million dollars for a two bedroom unit if they can make it all back in exhorbitant rent or write it off as a tax break.
NT Government to the rescue! I was super excited to find an ad in the newspaper for a government scheme to help lower income earners afford a house. I jumped straight on the government website and typed the program name into the search box.
Zero hits.
Typing the name of a housing department program into the search box on the housing department website gave me zero freaking hits. This did not bode well for the ultimate usefulness of the program, but I wasn't ready to give up yet. The alternate information source was to call into a TIO branch.
There isn't a TIO branch in Casuarina for some reason, so I had to wait until I had a chance to get into town during business hours to visit a branch. Fortunately that wasn't as much of a problem as it would normally be (more on that later). Unfortunately no-one in town including me seemed to have any idea where the TIO branch office was, since the last one got blown up by a lunatic with a trolley full of fireworks.
After walking a few laps of Mitchell St in the sun, I finally found the branch nestled inside an airconditioned shopping arcade and asked the questions I needed anwered. Tragically the receptionist couldn't answer them; I had to make an appointment to meet with a financial consultant the following day. I really just needed to be told the interest rate and deposit required, but these things have to be done by the book, I suppose.
I'll skip over the fun I had having my financial affiars appraised by a relative stranger. The sharp end is that after all that effort, the advice I was given was to go sort out my car loan, my HECS debt and my credit card and then come back. Alternatively I could go get a wife and come back with two incomes.
Of course, if I could do any of those things, I would have just gone to a bank in the first place. What a freaking useless program.
So here's to you, NT Government. Yet another fantastic initiative of no practical benefit to anyone. I'll see you in August.
Did you know Yarn Bombing is a thing?
Garry with 2 Rs