Tentatively Tasmanian

I’ve been job hunting lately, amongst the stuff like trying to get a Medicare card, a refund from an incredibly disinterested UN health insurer and keeping my daily steps up, and was thrown by a scenario presented to me in an interview.

“You are about to visit a woman who gets out of bed for only two hours a day. She regularly smears faeces on the walls of her house and has her hand down her pants, masturbating constantly. What do you do?”

I’m fifty four years old. I know what answers they will expect and what I should give but in this round of job interviews and being considered for roles with a gappy CV and my age I’ve decided to be brutally honest.

My reply: “Firstly, that is not a job I would take on. That is unhygienic and dangerous for her and for me. Why is there only one person entering a home like that to deal with a person who is obviously disturbed? Also, why is she allowed to stay alone at home and not be placed in a much more secure environment? I would not enter, but phone you straight away and report that she needs a helluva lot more than just plain old me to help her.”

There were two people interviewing me and I eyeballed them both. Making eye contact, smile, repeat their names, etc etc. I’m tired of being overlooked and playing games and they were both silent for several, very long moments.

“You’re right,” the male said. “We have been trying for months to get NDIS to assign two carers for her but also realise that she needs to be either hospitalised or institutionalised.”

All I want is a part time job so that, after twelve years of living in two French-speaking countries where all doors seemed to be slammed in my face, I feel as though I’m worth a few pennies, can maybe help others and then go home with an ounce or two of self-esteem.

I trudged home slowly, passing the Cenotaph, the ship yards, sighing under the Tasman bridge, hearing the cheers of hockey players on the blue fields to my right and arriving in Moonah. Smeared shit and uncontrolled masturbation is not what I need right now.

And thus, to shopping suggestions. A while ago, the good ‘ol Facebook algorithms would suggest hilariously bad fashion for me to purchase with the optimistic ‘this will suit you’ captions underneath. Now that we’re in the process of buying a house and need to do a bit of renovating, my google searches have informed Zuck’s bunch that it’s non-fashion products that might interest me.

So, to get the real-life poo smearing scenario out of my mind, I’ll share some of these real shopping adverts, directed at me specifically, with you:

Cross my heart, I have never searched, spoken out loud or even mentally considered a half-in-the-arse chicken egg lamp. Admittedly, it could be cute for someone who has chickens, but our new garden is handkerchief-sized and having to constantly explain this interior design choice to visitors would be exhausting.

Let’s move on to a peaked cap with sewn-in sunglasses. It gets dark here by 4pm, so any sun is avidly welcomed and the irony is that you have to turn your cap backwards, so that the ‘peak’ no longer protects you from sunburn, to use the goggle-like glasses. These are definitely not for the sane among us.

This is….. well, um…… it’s only seventy nine cents! I wonder why?

Who doesn’t need a flexible set of silicone human orifices in their home? Bear in mind, these are sold through a homewares site and not for medical students. Maybe they could be used as knife holders in the kitchen?

Ah, some ‘fashion’ slipped in. For the princely sum of $3.94, you too can squeeze into a sequined stocking that only a methed-up Jessica Rabbit in front of an amusement park mirror could fit into. Perfect for my nanna cart trips to Woolies in search of ‘soup mix’ packets and wonky vegetables!

Yes, our new home has a sliver of sea view via the kitchen, but is it doubtful that tropical reef turtles lurk in the frigid waters or that any guest needs to be treated to a port hole before relieving themselves. I’d be nervous that someone might not switch the light on and assume that the lid was already up….

We all like to lay out the welcome mat by our front doors, don’t we, but having a chequered black hole with a bargain basement IT the clown peeking up your skirt doesn’t quite send the ‘please come in, we’re quite nice people‘ message that most of us would be going for.

And finally, the one suggestion that is absolutely IDEAL for a fifty four year old woman:

For a tiny twenty five cents, I can enlarge my willy when wearing my budgie smugglers! Finally the problem with ‘shrinkage’ in cold water has been addressed! They missed a good marketing opportunity here by not calling them: Budgie Bigglers. Perhaps they can be a stocking filler for Craig* or some playful salmon mousse molds?

Who knows what will be ‘recommended’ for me tomorrow.

* Craig is a pseudonym to protect the innocent and please be assured that I will never, ever buy him the Budgie Bigglers!