The Right Way

Anything I said about staying at the orchard long-term is hereby taken back. It's clear to me that the owners place practically no value in individual workers. All they're concerned about is having a platoon of people who are desperate to work that they can swindle as they see fit to achieve their dark goals of having an absolutely continuous, tsunamatic cashflow. I gave them the benefit of the doubt when I found they hadn't paid me time and a half for Easter Monday, as they are legally entitled to do. I put it down to human error and felt confident that they would reimburse me soon enough. But it turns out that the company policy is not to pay anybody time and a half at all, regardless of whether it is the law.

When I confronted the owners about it, first they said they consider me a casual worker and as such I am "not actually entitled to time and a half." I quickly despatched that argument by citing that it is required by law that all workers who work on a public holiday are entitled to time and a half, whether they are casual or not. Their argument was also easily rubbished because I am aware that the man who supervises work in the orchard and who has worked there for eight years has never once been paid time and a half in his entire time there. Only recently has the fact that he's being ripped off been brought to his attention, when his wife pointed it out on his payslip with outrage.

With that argument discredited, they moved to try and excuse themselves, saying that they're "pretty flexible" in their allowing me to come back "ten minutes late from lunch," as if my missteps would make up for their breaching the law in underpaying the entire workforce. All the while, the male owner opted to twiddling an appendage of a nearby feijoa tree, making minimal eye contact with me -- because he knows I'm right, and he knows the workers cannot be fooled. A continuation of the argument, which was by now becoming very heated due to the owners' malicious confrontational style, involved the final claim that they have never paid people time and a half before, and that as such it would be unfair to the other workers to pay it to me now. Effectively they just admitted that ever since the Holidays Act 2003 kicked in, they have been abusing workers' rights and breaking the law. Also, none of us have contracts, and the law requires that employers provide workers -- even if they are casual -- with these. With that, they gave me my undersized pay packet and with a wry "bye," drove away together on their freakish off-road mobility scooter.

You can understand that part of me wants to see the orchard levelled and a massive Midnight Oil concert held on the former site, and I can say I will certainly be showing the owners the documents off of the Department of Labour Web site that specify all of our rights as workers. If they don't comply then, I'll be calling the Department of Labour inspectors to the site to force the owners to pull their fingers out. Then, I'll leave. It's times like these you wish unions were more prominent in this society. But I'm actually really excited about the prospect of getting a new job, and have been searching for one as of the start of this week -- I'm considering retail, as I'm sure I don't want to be involved in manual labour ever again. In retrospect, Pak 'n Save was even alright. If I got anywhere near as assertive to the Pak 'n Save management as I did to the owners of the orchard yesterday, I'd have all my concerns acted upon. Maybe I'll even get a job on the Shore.

I've yet to start work on my four thousand word politics essay that is due on Friday. I can certainly do it -- it's feasible -- but it's going to require some intensive effort, not like I've been putting in today -- playing Genesis loudly on my fantastic Transonic boombox and dancing in my bedroom is too much of a distraction. It's gotten to the stage where I'm feeling a touch unenthused about uni at the moment. Two of my four papers have turned out to be pretty much dissatisfactory. One has been alright, while ethnomusicology is undoubtedly my best choice this semester. I couldn't fault it, but could merely fault myself for not knowing how to read and perform music, or sing properly in the technical sense, because I think those skills would've helped me get more out of this paper.

I was blown away upon arriving at Cynthia's house last night, expecting the usual dinner and America's Next Top Model-watching session with Cynthia, Alison and Nicola that graces every Friday night, to find an awesome surprise party had been organised for me. I made a distinctly "Gary" entrance, in that I was displeased with the slight tongue-in-cheek reprimand that I received from Cynth as a result of my being late, and made no secret of this; after all, I had already had to go and buy a certain kind of ice cream (I am the specified provider of desserts to our evenings). This only serves to accentuate how much I wasn't expecting a surprise party. First Ali's and Cynth's painting and pinata, now this! I was only just starting to realise that people actually like me until now, when it's suddenly hit me. It's wonderful and touching and I am so grateful for all of my friends. Ali had even invited Mat and Andrew to the party, so all of my best friends were there. I had a crown, a throne, a Winston Peters pinata and The Dark Side of the Moon birthday cake! Unbelievable. It was seriously the best birthday party ever and made me feel really special. I never, ever dreamed that I would have such awesome friends that would do something like this for me. But I do.

Nimrod

I have a job working at a feijoa orchard now. I've actually been there for at least a month. Its good points include the fact that it's literally a four minute drive away from my house, and that I have the opportunity to eat feijoas constantly as I work. I am responsible for picking the fruit -- both fresh ones from trees, and ones from the ground that are to be used by Marc Ellis's company Charlie's to make juice. It was supposed to be that I'd be required to grade and pack them as well, but it seems the owners are content having me strain my back outside of the packhouse (you'd be surprised how much of a toll being constantly bent over for eight and a half hours a day has on your body).

So this brings me to the bad points. The work is not exactly easy. Although picking fruit from the trees may be alright physically, it's very much a knack that one has to acquire to be able to determine which fruit are ripe and ready for picking, and which are the almost-ripe-but-not-really kind that Alison likes but that are apparently not fit for sale. Also, as with all jobs of this kind, the management are rubbish. The job advertisement on Student Job Search said I'd be paid twelve dollars an hour; upon my arrival for my interview I was told I'd start on ten dollars and fifty cents an hour, and work my way up once they felt I was picking the fruit quickly and efficiently enough. However, I've been there for at least a month, as I said, and I haven't received a pay rise. A quite well-skilled Brazilian worker who has been there since before me is also earning the same 'non-optimum' amount.

Almost all of the other pickers are Tuvaluans who understandably speak to each other in their native tongue as often as possible, because they are not very clear English speakers. This is not a racist sentiment I am expressing here, but it does make me feel alienated -- decidedly lonely -- when I'm told where to sit at lunchtime, away from their group, whilst they talk and laugh in another language and listen to loud music that is sung in another language with an irritating, cheap synthesised instrumental in the background. I started trying to strike up conversations with the Brazilian man, who also does not know much English, with significant success, but suddenly and without warning he stopped coming to work, so I tend to go home for my lunch now. It's a welcome chance to watch a snippet of bullshit daytime TV and speak to my sisters.

Obviously one of the most significant factors against my job is that the work is mundane, repetitive and boring and has me climbing up the walls once I get home at about four thirty in the afternoon. The fact that it's outdoors means that rainy days are not only depressing, but they actually have the physical effect of soaking me to the skin, and (oh my goodness no) leaking through the cover of my mobile and making the ink in my custom cover run. So I'm currently conceptualising a Sigur Ros cover to replace my Pink Floyd one that I've had since I bought the phone. There are also mosquitoes positively everywhere, and roosters that never shut the heck up. Yesterday, I stood in a rooster poo. It was as big as a rooster and almost made me slip over. But I've just rattled off a rant here and the job is in reality better than I have made it sound. It's good working so close to home, when the weather is good it is actually enjoyable to work outdoors, and the owners are flexible enough to allow me to work only on the two weekdays that I don't have uni, Tuesday and Wednesday -- though at the moment I am working full-time, since it is the holidays.

This is a low-quality-but-still-neat-to-listen-to recording of the Sigur Rós concert in Auckland last Monday (follow the initial link, then right-click and save target as IC_B_002.mp3), recorded by frenger.jp of the Sigur Rós Message Boards. I am still entranced by this concert, more than a week on, and all the music I've listened to since has been Sigur Rós. Listening to this recording now, I realise that Georg Holm's bass playing that night was so superb. Rather than the smooth, almost bass synth-esque sound that he usually contributes to Sigur Ros's music, the bass tone was coarse and throaty, while maintaining the long residual notes that are so important to the nature of the music. I really liked it. One of my favourite Sigur Ros moments is on Takk... when Georg's wonderful thrumming bassline carries the residual tinkling of Hoppípolla into Með Blóðnasir, and this was delivered even better live.

Jonsi's singing was at peak perfection as well. A highlight of the concert for me was the performance of Ný Batterí, where Jonsi alternated between vocal lines, from ethereally gentle baby-like coos to dramatic, emotional uses of the full capacity of his lungs. There were several points like this throughout the concert where I found myself getting quite choked up. Wow, I mean it was just brilliant. This recording of course doesn't do the experience proper justice, but for people who were at the concert in particular it is a great way to reminisce and tap into some of those amazing feelings again. All the memorable moments are there. As an aside, I discovered as I was writing my blog entry the other day that I share my birthday with Jonsi, when I saw the birthday thread on the Sigur Rós Message Boards. I thought that was pretty cool, personally...

I love how he sometimes shows this immense pain in his face when he sings, and it's down to the audience to interpret what is causing that pain, through the visuals and the music alone because we do not understand the Icelandic lyrics and in many cases Jonsi's not even singing in a real language at all. Sigur Rós are so good. And Jonsi is so good...

Good Weather For Airstrikes

It turns out that, funnily enough, the ceasing of writing political commentary on my blog was a natural progression from starting to take a more positive approach to life. In my opinion I've had enough to deal with in my own life without feeling the need to complain about the state of the rest of the world. That sentiment may seem selfish, but it's not intended to be. I was taking blogging too seriously. Making A Hole In The Wall was never supposed to yield intense commentary; it was supposed to help people get to know me better by allowing me to express myself more openly and coherently, giving them a window into my personality. It was meant to prove that personal blogs can in fact be of high quality. That's the role this blog shall play from now on. Writing blog entries won't feel like writing essays anymore.

Also, partly in recognition of my belief that blogs are not something to be taken too seriously, I'm seriously considering swapping the FTVMS 203 Techno-culture and New Media paper that I am currently enrolled in for next semester with ANTHRO 215 Human Sexuality. I understand that the new media paper does not focus solely on blogs, but I am becoming decreasingly enthused by the media as a whole and am thinking about changing my minor to Anthropology.

The holidays have been very good so far and I feel I've had a full two weeks' worth of fun even though in reality only one week has passed. Two concerts and a comedy show have graced my past week of life. The Rolling Stones last Sunday were impressive, but Sigur Rós surpassed that. From closing my eyes and beaming uncontrollably during Hoppípolla to singing along to the dramatic Popplagið encore-finale, the Icelandic quartet and their support Amiina fulfilled all of my expectations and then some. The audience was the most rightfully enthusiastic one I have ever been a part of and the atmosphere comprised a cool wash of intense positivity and contentment. I'll never forget the sensation I had during Hoppípolla; all that energy of genuine, beautiful good nature.

The New Zealand Herald review of the concert feels as though the author is restraining himself. People have a tendency to gush when they write about Sigur Rós's music (see my 'review' of the album Takk..., of which I am extremely proud, from last October, to which Hannah commented we should e-mail-rally the band to come to New Zealand). Russell Baillie, who wrote the Herald article, mentioned that he had "a lump in [his] throat and the makings of tears" but that's as far as he wandered into the territory of attempting to describe the in many cases indescribable emotional response that Sigur Rós's music has a tendency to evoke in people. It's a review worth reading nonetheless. Monday night's concert was the single best musical experience I have ever had in my life. It was the best $61 I have ever spent, and I say that with not a skerrick of doubt. It would have been worth the admission price to see Amiina, let alone the best band recording in the world today as well.

These two photos were taken at the Auckland show by Vic_ of the Sigur Rós Message Board. Amiina are visible on the strings in the background in both photos. The bottom photo shows (left to right) Jónsi Birgisson, Georg Holm and Orri Páll Dýrason. Keyboardist-guitarist Kjartan Sveinsson was off to the left of the shot. Now, I'm not really one to have crushes on "famous" people, but I must confess I've always had a massive crush on Jónsi and the spectacular show has only served to throw oil on the fire. I know it's trivial, but hey, you know more about me now.

Dylan Moran, who you may be familiar with as the actor who plays the character Bernard in the British comedy Black Books, provided a brilliant stand-up comedy routine on Friday night -- which I attended with Alison and Cynthia -- in the tradition of Bernard's slurring, wearied-by-the-world attitude that is a lot to do with why the television show is so entertaining. Quips as to the way that modern people live life were mixed in with the exploitation of stereotypes of nationality and piss-takes of New Zealand, producing a potent comedic cocktail which it felt as though Dylan had certainly consumed his fair share of! (Sorry, that really was a heinously entertainment-journalistic sentence.)

Since it's my birthday today, Alison and Cynthia painted me an awesome picture featuring a mixture of their respective awesome artistic styles, and also made me a domino pinata with Aviator sunglasses and a handlebar moustache. Sheer brilliance. I was really surprised. I didn't think they even knew when my birthday was, let alone that any kind of deal would be made about it. I'm really touched. This is the first time in my life where I've had heaps of friends genuinely wishing me a happy birthday. It just sums up for me how brilliant the past year-and-a-bit has been and how wonderful all the people I have met are. I was going to pretend that I hadn't had a birthday and that I hadn't reached the age of nineteen, but now I'm not worried about that because I'm excited about growing up with all my great friends.