I was asked last Sunday what had happened to my blog and why no posts had appeared recently. It was my sister who asked me. It’s not like I get stopped in the street and harangued about my writing but it was nice to know someone had missed my online presence.
Truth be told, I’m not sure why I have lost the lust to write. I have no intention of abandoning my blog but a blog that isn’t updated is hardly worth a shout is it?
So I am back, enjoying my Saturday night on the net, full of food after dinner and getting ready to watch the Giro d’Italia bike race which will be live on SBS television about 11pm.
A bit has happened since I’ve been away. An election has been called; a bloody Double Dissolution of all things and we are a week done in a a marathon two month election campaign. Won’t we all be sick and tired of politics by then?! I try not to write about politics. Too many people get wrapped up in knots about it and although I lean to the left I really don’t care who you vote for. As long as you don’t try to shove your view down my throat. So, you won’t be getting a blow by blow description of events and happenings of the campaign from me. If you want to know about the colour of Turnbull’s tie or Shorten’s man-boobs you will have to tune into Channel 7 or whatever other station takes your fancy and get your fix that way. This will, for the most part be a politics free zone for the next two months. That being said I think the government will be returned but they will lose some skin.
My only achievement of note lately was obtaining my qualification to drive a forklift during a rather intense three day course in Fyshwick this late week. I usually run a mile from these sorts of things. Training courses of any kind are an anathema to me but I found myself in class at a private training company with six other hopefuls and, as is my want, I just scraped through by the skin of my teeth.
Realistically, driving a forklift is hardly like trying to land the lunar module on the Sea of Tranquility. With a bit of care and restraint anyone could do it with a couple of hours practice. It’s the theory that is the killer and almost tripped me up.
School was never my forte which is why I have been a postal worker for the last 29 years and if I had known the course was as intense as it turned out to be I never would have put my name down for it. I suppose now I can say that it was all for the best but I wouldn’t choose to do it again I don’t think.
Again, the trainer wasn’t trying to teach the Theory of Relativity and have us recite it to him word for word within a couple of days but there was quite a bit of information to digest and a 65 question closed book examination to be done at the end along with a practical test if one was to qualify for a license. 65 questions! The course is a lot harder than it use to be apparently. Just my luck.
Miraculously, I managed to remember much of what was taught through repetition and revision. It would have been pretty embarrassing to fail but I did almost outsmart myself.
Forklifts have a rated capacity for loads they lift and those loads also have to be within what they call “Load Centre Distance”. Most forklifts have an LCD of 600mm, half the length of a standard Australian pallet used in most Australian warehouses. All loads lifted must be within these standards as they are displayed on a plate affixed to the forklift.
The last three questions of the test referred to the figure of a forklift with a load rating 1818kg and an LCD of 600mm.
The first question of this section asked if the forklift could lift a load of 2000kg with an LCD of 700mm. Easy. Of course it can’t. The second question asked if the aforementioned forklift can lift a load of 1900kg with an LCD of 700mm. Ha! Too easy. Of course it can’t. Third question of the section and last of the test and I’m cruising. I’m confident I’ve remembered everything and should fly through. Then I fell over.
The last question reads: Can it lift 1818kg? Can it? Well, yeah it can as long as the LCD is within 600mm. But that’s not what they were asking apparently. Obviously most people just assume the question continues with an anonymous and invisible “and a load centre distance of 700mm” written beside the aforementioned weight of 1818kg. But I’m not most people. I write “yes”.
I hand the test in and the trainer runs through it and asks me to do the last one again. You get one chance apparently. He’s throwing me a lifeline. Which I miss in rough seas. Now, I knew then what answer they were looking for. It was “no” even though the question was badly written and shouldn’t be allowed to stand in a test like that. But I have to make life difficult for myself in such a situation. Again.
I write “Yes it can as long as the load has a load centre distance of 600mm” Technically I think I’m right. The trainer doesn’t see it that way. He just wants the black or white answer. He doesn’t give a stuff about some nitwit who thought about the question too much. I could argue the point. He could argue that everyone else got it right! I fail the test.
If it had been something important I would have stacked on a blue and written to my local member and the Minister for Whoever looks after this sort of crap and complained. But hey, who really cares? I don’t really want to drive a forklift around Australia Post’s truck yard lifting mail onto the dock. I only did the course thinking having a forklift license might snag me a job elsewhere.
“What time do you get up in the morning?”, the trainer asks. The first thought which pops into my head is “nowhere near as early as I have had to the last three days to do a training course I have just failed!”
“You can come back tomorrow and do that section again”, he says. “But it’s not a training day for us.” Ah, yes, I’m putting him out apparently. The 750 bucks AP paid to put me through the course means nothing. You get two weeks to do it again. Let’s get it over with.
I manage to negotiate a 9am meeting, an hour later than I have been starting for the course and the next day I find myself alone with the trainer doing the last section again in less time than it took me to drive to Fyshwick. Ain’t life grand.
I have to do the whole 8 questions in the arithmetic section again. I rush through. And I fail the first question, one which I killed yesterday. Geez Louise! I really can’t take a trick here. I get another crack at it. If I don’t get this sum right I fail again and I ain’t gonna bother coming back this time that’s for sure. I will just have to take the slings and arrows and humiliation of failure in a course most people of average intelligence would have breezed through on the chin.
I do the sum again. I am allowed to use a calculator but it does me no favours. I get the same answer I did the first time. I can’t work out what I’ve done wrong. Maths never was my strong suit. Oh God! For the first time in thirty years the dread of looking at a test and teetering on the edge of failure returns. I feel like I’m back at school. What am I going to do? I look at the question again. You have to show your calculations. The trainer is probably thinking I’m a complete clown. I do the sum a different way and get a different answer. I seem to have added 80kg too much onto the calculated load. I hand in the test….again.
Success!!!!! All of a sudden I’m a qualified forklift driver and the trainer can’t operate his computer to get me my statement of attainment. Who’s the clown now son?!! Unfortunately I will have to come back again later when his administrative assistant, who also happens to be his wife, wanders back in from shopping or doing coffee or whatever one does when one only has to be in the office occasionally.
“Come back later this afternoon on your way to work” he says. “I’ll fix it then”. The missus will be back from the Canberra Centre by then apparently and can sort it out. No way. It’s Friday. I’m not coming back here again today. So, he will give me a call next week and let me know when I can pick up my papers. I have two weeks to put them in and gain my license. AP will just have to wait a little longer to use my services.
Man, what a traumatic week! Out of my comfort zone. Missed three stages of the Giro. Tired from working normal hours. Feeling stressed and nervous for most of the week. I was almost glad to be back at work on Friday. Almost.
So. All in all something positive did come from the week but I certainly won’t be repeating the effort anytime soon. Now let’s see if I ever have to actually get on a forklift!
Hope you have a great night and terrific Sunday.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 