Blackwater stole my will to blog. I was up there for work last week. Yes, an entire week. This trip was a personal PR campaign to establish some rapport with some of the more surlier characters I work with. Mostly they have worked on a mine site all their 100+ years and are set in their ways, slow country folk for the most part and usually named something like "Carrot" or "Macca". Coal particles ooze from their very pores and they have a clear aversion to showering and more importantly paper work I need them to complete in order for me to do my job.
I managed to bring a couple of them round and even had one guy come to me for some help which tells me I'm better at PR than I originally thought. Those three years at uni didn't go to waste after all - and it wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm a tall blonde in a pair of toit dark denims....whatever.
I'm usually also set up in a room in the SPQ (Single Persons Quarters - think of the shittiest rural motel you've ever stayed in and times it by 10) but this time it was full to the brim with coal crunchers so I was forced to endure three whole nights in a large, barren 'transit' house with no working tv and fluro lights. The silence was palpable. And scary. I even went as far as to select the sharpest carving knife I could locate in the kitchen to lie at the ready under my pillow in case an intruder should decide to call. Look I'm nothing without a little drama in my life. Even if it is all in my head. Obviously I'm still here to tell the tale.
All in all a very intense, heads down work-athon last week and I'm feeling ever so slightly drained from it. On the positive side I relish being busy busy busy. Work is finally starting to provide me with the slightest sliver of satisfaction.
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