Interlude 2

My favorite and least favorite thing about street fundraising is that we work in a different location every day.  This is sometimes a pain because I have to figure out the transit system, but it is also cool because it gives me an excuse to visit little areas that I would never voyage to on my own.  Sometimes it feels a bit like a tour of concrete suburbs that could easily blend in with any English speaking country.  You know the ones that I'm talking about: the grocery store next to the bank next to the dive bar next to the old antique shop next to a series of dormant businesses with barred doors and dusty windows.  The streets are a monotonous set of strip malls pasted together on cracked pavement.  The occasional tree, plopped down like a castle in a fish tank serves to make you feel as if your habitat is closer to the natural world, providing the illusion that you can escape from your bubble at any time - or is it an illusion?  

Interlude I

Everyone loves bartenders and everyone hates street fund raisers.  These are facts.  You can ask anyone.  If I were a person who felt my job defined my identity, I would probably be a complete mess from the contrast of treatment.  The bartender is the definition of cool, the keeper of keys, the dealer.  You want to be her best friend.  She can hook it up or refuse service at her whim.  You abide her as the dominatrix of liquor and you love her because she washes away your anxieties and brings you to a place where everyone is successful, good looking, and alright.    

Paradoxically, the street fundraiser is the scapegoat.  She reminds you of the deterioration of the planet: the helplessness you feel in the face of global warming, economic crises, mass starvation, disease, six-hundred pound gorillas stealing resources in a time of widespread scarcity, and most excruciatingly of all, she reminds you of death -- of the lack of control you feel in the face of even your own death.  Once you are down, she digs you further.  She reminds you that there are charities.  Charities are important.  Charities would not exist without donations.  She tells you that if you don't donate, you are part of the problem.  However, if you do, the result is abstract, intangible, and the problem still exists.  Finally, the alienation and confusion build up inside you.  You find yourself projecting all of your hatred onto this twenty-something-year-old idealist street fundraiser who is persuading you to donate money to a charity that you have never heard of, for a cause that you feel no control over.  You become so internally frustrated that you decide to stop by the next bar and order a drink. 

Outline Part One

7 Weeks, 9 Cities, 4 Living situations, 2 Jobs, 1 Journey.  At this point my life has become so multi-faceted that it warrents a quick plot outline.  The setting is Sydney.  Imagine a cleaner San Francisco with wide streets like Vancouver, a train system like England, and beaches like Florida - only better.  I live near the Central Business District on Oxford street, the rainbow-flag-lined, gay verging on flashy drag queen homoerotic, area of the city.


I work at the Down Under Bar and Bistro two nights a week.  Fortunately, I am a fast learner in the art of drink making and cash registering so I have turned out to be an alright bartender.  Unfortunately, my boss now wants me to waitress for dinner shifts before I bar tend at night.  Now I have never been a waitress before, nor did I pretend to have waitress experience.  Luckily, I have been to several restaurants in the past so I was able to deduce the job description.  I simply walked up to a table, having no knowledge of the menu whatsoever and asked "Can I take your order."  

Since backpacker bars have a consistent crowed of young drunk internationals, the Down Under Bar finds it profitable to have theme nights similar to those put on by college frat parties. In Australia, and apparently in the UK as well, they call theme nights "fancy dress parties" don't ask me why.  Anyway, since I only work at Down Under Bar two nights a week sometimes my boss will forget to mention these things in advance.  This happened last night when I walked down to the bar to find it crowded with Western Europeans wearing beachwear and covering themselves with body paint.  Luckily my boss gave me a few fake Hawaiian leis so I could fit in.

On Monday through Friday I work as a street fundraiser for the Australian Conservation Foundation - a large environmental charity that focuses on researching sustainable energy, protecting endangered species, and conserving the Australian environment.  The ACF has no political or religious affiliation.  It is primarily a lobbying group that works alongside the government to preserve the natural beauty in Australia for future generations.  Don't worry, I am not asking you to join, I just want to tell you about what we do.  I tell this to about fifteen people per day two minutes before I pull out the form and ask them to join.  


My boss is an eccentric French guy.  His name is Alexis which he pronounces Alexi, but most people just call him Jesus because he has long hair and charisma like the son of God.  Alexis is an exceptional fundraiser.  From what I have witnessed there are two reasons for this.  1. He really knows his stuff and 2. He hits on everyone.  He says things that you can only get away with as an attractive 26-year-old with a French accent.  "Oh, I see you are on your phone.  Are you trying to call me?  Well it's alright sweetie, I'm right here.  I am Alexi.  Have you heard of the Australian Conservation Foundation?"  "Oh, you have never joined a charity before?  So you are a charity virgin!  Well don't worry I will wear a condom and I'll go slow."  For some reason, old ladies and business men seem to find this one the most amusing - either that or it makes them uncomfortable and they laugh to be polite.  I don't know.  


Alexi says that confronted with a street fundraiser 90% of people with say no.  Of those, 10% actually mean no and 80% just need more information.  
Example: 
Me: "Do you want an apple?" 
You: "No" 
Me: "Really?  I am going to cut the apple into pieces, pour some sugar on them and put them in  the oven.  Now do you want the apple?"
You: "Yes.  Yesss I want the apple" 


All I know is that if you are a successful street fundraiser you can sell almost anything.  


Note from the author: I do not have time to write more at the moment, but this outline of my life in Sydney is not finished.  This is only Outline Part One.  Part Two Will Come at a Later Date.