Heavenly Beverley : F#@k Off (...and have a Happy New Year!)

I thought I'd seen the end of 2017, which has been a challenging year for all of us. I'd hoped that there would be no more vindictiveness or pettiness and we could all start the New Year with a thoroughly clean slate.

2018 is the Chinese Year of the Dog, although not officially until the middle of February. As I am the most unpunctual woman alive, I thought I'd have my personal changeover now as the Year of the Rooster left rather a lot to be desired. In hindsight, I should have known that a year designated by poultry would be a disaster. Hens and roosters are psychotic in my experience. Ducks pooh everywhere, Geese hiss and bite. And Guinea Fowl would have the be the stupidest, noisiest and most destructive feathered creatures I have ever seen. Don't even get me started about turkeys.

In contrast, the Year of the Dog (and those born in it), is supposed to be filled with loyalty, friendship, honesty, intelligence and responsiveness. Donald Trump is an abject failure as a member of this sign, however some catastrophes are unforeseen and unavoidable.

Here are some of the wishes I hope to see fulfilled in the Year of the Dog -

that Peter Dutton has a human being transplant or returns to his planet of origin
that the Governor-General decides to sack the whole bloody parliament and we start again
that a "lookalike" bloke with sense and brains is substituted for the "real" Donald Trump and we stop fearing for the safety of this planet ("Dave")
ditto for Kim Jong-un
that we start behaving like humanitarians and quickly process and home all asylum seekers
that the nations of the UN start working as a team to prevent the creation of refugees in the first place. Which would also mean taking power away from the arms dealers and those who support the mass distribution of weapons
that the American public finally realise that their "right to bear arms" was never meant to remain unchanged in the twenty-first century, given the frequency of massacres in the US.

Enough of pipe dreams. Back to the subject of this post, which concerns my older son Callum and a somewhat unexpected end to his hospitality career.

Callum has always worked from the age of fourteen. He started on the broiler at Hungry Jack's, rising to be King of the Birthday Parties, often supervising up to thirty children at once. Excellent training for becoming a teacher. He has also worked as a Checkout Chick, Trolley Boy, Pizza Delivery Driver and Video Store senior staff. Once entrenched at uni, his long service in hospitality began. Waiter extraordinaire to Restaurant Manager.

Being a ballroom dancer allowed him to glide effortlessly and smoothly around a crowded restaurant. His demeanour was one of patience, tolerance and efficiency. He genuinely wanted to create a well-run workplace for other staff and the best possible outcome for his clients. Often easier said than done.

His latest position has been very difficult. As a restaurant manger, he had a number of goals he hoped to achieve. Management have seen otherwise. Staff turnover has continued to be high. And with the stepping stones back into teaching that he'd hoped, he was delightedly planning a reduction in hours at the restaurant. His work ethic meant he was not willing to leave the other staff members in the lurch. He handed in his permanent notice and offered himself for two days a week in a casual role.

Callum had been battling a cold for two weeks when he started a shift on the last Thursday before New Year. He felt terrible. He'd hoped to last the distance, but was seriously considering going home early.

The venue manager called him in for a conversation. Management had decided that they were not interested in keeping Callum as a casual staff member. Cal asked the venue manager if there had been any issues with his performance. With breathtaking honesty, she replied that their reasoning was retaliation and sheer bloody-mindedness. He could either stay full-time or not at all.

Callum chose to leave early and go home. He called in sick the following morning and went to the doctor. He was immediately prescribed anti-biotics and given three days of sick leave. His last shift had meant to be on New Year's Eve. He rang the venue and explained that he has worked his last day.

After all their vindictiveness, Callum had turned the tables on Management. He felt desperately sad leaving his workmates suddenly, but he felt he'd had no choice. Callum has predicted that Management, having failed to learn how to communicate with their staff, will witness a mass exodus of the current crop. And have nobody to blame but themselves.

Callum himself had a wonderful New Year's Eve with his delightful fiancee Bronwyn. They were able to go to a party, together, as a couple instead of him having to join festivities after work. He has a hundred hours holiday allowance which should hold them in good stead for a few weeks. If needed, he will call and pick up some casual waiting.

Any restaurants or pubs or bistros in the northern suburbs looking for casual staff during January, Callum is your man. In the meantime, he and Bron are going to spring clean their home. Together.

Rock on, 2018.

Callum (with partner Francesca in competition)...