Ten Years On: Moving Overseas

A Kunstmuseum. That's what's in Liechtenstein - a kunstmuseum.

Before anyone writes to complain, I should point out that the German word for art is "kunst", so a kunstmuseum is quite literally an art museum. So stop tittering, it's culture you heathens.

I got to learn a few fun facts about Europe during my last few months in Port Douglas. As part of the preparation for the training trip we had to complete worksheets about each country and city we travelled to. This would make building our spiels a hell of a lot easier as well as forcing you to do some fairly decent research. It was while doing this that I found out about the aforementioned Kunstmuseum, as well as that just about every country in Western Europe produced sugar beets as a major crop. How this could possibly be interesting is beyond me, but the boss wanted it so I wrote it down.

While the workload wasn't all that great - 11 country and 31 city information sheets completed - it was important to me to complete it all before I left Port Douglas as I knew that when I got to the UK my focus wouldn't be on filling out pieces of paper so much as bending the elbow at the pub. It would also give me something to read on the long flight over.

The remainder of my time in Port Douglas went in a blur. Highlights included a Christmas trip out to Mossman Gorge, where while relaxing in the rockpool I saw the most unbelievable sight. Ahead of me the swimming hole dropped off to reveal the most stunning vista of rainforest-covered hills, a scene that never failed to put me in a great frame of mind. In the foreground this time around though, three hands holding VB cans emerged from the water as some travellers looked to get their beers across to the other side.


EVENTUALLY it was time to leave the tropics for a new life overseas. I had a return ticket to London even though I wasn't sure if I would indeed be back - call it the "in case of emergency break glass" back-up plan. Mind you, that back-up went out the door when I discovered the crumbled remains of the paper ticket in my jacket after doing my first bit of laundry in the UK.

Was it a sign? I didn't care - I was having way too much fun. I'd ended up back at the Generator in London after a week at a mate's place in Cheltenham and got to know a few of the crew in our dorm. We were mostly young Australians and Kiwis that took full advantage of the £1 pints before 9pm. At one point we'd all gone up to the bar and ordered the maximum four each just before 9; soon afterwards bar staff circled the bar trying to find where all their pint glasses has disappeared to.

Then March 28 was upon me. I moved from the Generator to the St Christopher's at London Bridge, then got ready for the first official day of training.

How would training go? Would I get along with everyone? Would I be able to handle it?

Ten Years On: The Interview

SO just to recap: I've travelled to the other side of the world for a job interview. I've lost a contact lens, put on a weak pair of glasses (that would give 99.99% of the population a massive headache), arrived about 30 seconds before the interview was supposed to start, then realised that my planned speech on King Edward VIII was going to suck compared to everyone else's.

Right.

So I have to change my talk. What in God's green earth can I talk about for five minutes that will get me my dream job? It has to be something that will interest everyone (that's cricket out); that includes some humour (cricket's out) and can't be about travel (cricket's out).

What can I talk about that's not cricket?

Then it comes to me. As the oldest of Mum's six children I can remember most of our health problems over the years, from one brother's deafness until he got grommets, to another brother's illness with what was eventually diagnosed Coeliac Disease, to the youngest two being born with red hair.

I also spoke about Amniotic Band Syndrome, a condition that affects one in 1000 live births and can leave babies with cleft palate, syndactyly or missing limbs. I got the middle one - it was part of the reason I was so socially awkward. But my rationale was to try and get this out of the way early as I thought it might have been an issue down the track. Why would it have been? I don't know - but I "knew" that it would come up at some point.

For a talk that was made up on the spot it actually went pretty well. I got a few chuckles throughout and relaxed after my talk right up until the lady in charge said that she was going on leave that afternoon for a week. This was a problem: we'd been told the follow-up interviews would be in the week after the presentation, so I'd planned to head back to Australia a week later.

Shit.

I had to come clean. Before heading home I emailed the company again, explained the situation and that I could either go something over the phone, over the internet (this was pre-Skype), or when I arrived back in the UK next, which I'd decided was definitely going to happen at some point in 2006.

I don't think I'd ever been so eager for someone to come back from leave. Every morning I'd come into work and check my emails for a response. When it finally came in they'd agreed to do a phone interview - the best-case scenario really. Not just because it meant I would know if I'd got the job before flying back over, but also because I could pace up and down the station throughout.

That was how it went down. I did the interview wearing a hole in the carpet with my incessant pacing while being questioned on Europe, travel and the price of fish in Denmark this time of year.

A few days later I popped back into the office to grab something before we got insanely drunk. While there I quickly checked the computer and found a new email notification.

From the company.

...

...

I WAS IN!

Actually, I wasn't in per se, but had got a place on the training trip. We would head around Europe gathering information that we would use on the circuit. We'd stop at every stop along the way, including my first-ever trip to Switzerland. We'd even visit Liechtenstein.

I was going to Liechtenstein! I don't know if anyone has been as excited about going to Liechtenstein as I was that night. Switzerland as well, but Liechtenstein! Home of... bank accounts? False teeth? I dunno, I'll let Future Stuart deal with that.