THE AUSTRALIAN AT SHIRK.
The masterly inactivity of the Australian is something to marvel at. He
is, of course, very tired, but how he manages to get along without doing
any kind of work from early morn to dewy eve throughout the circle of
the golden year I must confess knocks me kite high. It's not that he
dislikes work. He is really very fond of it--in the abstract.
This is borne out by an account of Sydney business methods published in
an evening paper of that city in the form of an extract from a
commercial traveller's diary. It is most illustrative:--
"MONDAY.--Called to see Mr. Beeswax, of the firm of Beeswax and
Bullswool, in the hope of placing a big line of saddlers' ironmongery
with him. Mr. Beeswax sent out word that he wanted something of the
sort, but that, being Monday, he was busy clearing up business left over
from the Saturday half-holiday. Asked me to call again.
"TUESDAY.--Called again. Mail day. Mr. Beeswax couldn't see me. To call
to-morrow.
"WEDNESDAY.--English mail arrived late, and letters only to hand to-day.
Mr. Beeswax busy with English letters. To call to-morrow.
"THURSDAY.--Called again. Mr. Beeswax gone to Arbitration Court to fight
his employees. May be in again; may not. Most likely not! I went to the
Arbitration Court and waited. Beeswax was fined L100 for selling
wooden dolls and toothpicks in contravention of the 951st clause of the
Amalgamated Wooden Dolls and Toothpick Makers' Union log. I decided not
to approach him for an order to-day.
"FRIDAY.--Called again just before twelve. Cab was waiting outside. Just
as I was shown into the room, Mr. Beeswax was putting on his hat. I
said, 'About that saddlers' ironmongery!' He said, 'D---- your saddlers'
ironmongery! Who won the toss, did you hear?' Then he jumped into a cab,
and said, 'Cricket Ground!' and drove off.
"SATURDAY.--Only half a day. No hope of seeing Beeswax, or anyone else
for that matter. Decided to go to the Cricket Ground myself and join the
crowd whose prosperity during the week enables them to enjoy themselves
on Saturday free from care. I have no cares--no money either. Next week
there is a public holiday for the election, a levee, and another
cricket match, so I don't suppose I shall sell much saddlers'
ironmongery just for a while. Australia is such a busy place."
The only thing I doubt about this is the persistence of the commercial
traveller. I have seen a good deal of that flamboyant person in my
travels of Australia, and the conclusion I formed of him was that he was
not out to do business so much as to circulate the latest risque story,
criticise the management of railways and hotels, explain the European
situation, and generally to make the rustic gape and feel discontented.
He is the great Australian "bounder."
Every Australian who isn't in the Civil Service aspires to be a business
man. Art and matters of temperament are side lines, so to speak.
Primarily, it is the business faculty that is developed in all lie-downs
of Australian life. It is generally as office boy that a start is made.
The position of office boy means that young Australia is paid ten
shillings per week to look through the "situations vacant" column in his
employer's paper every morning, and apply for all positions advertised
at 15s. per week by other firms, said applications to be written on his
employer's notepaper. If he doesn't get another place quickly he knows
he'll be sacked, for nobody keeps an office boy in Australia more than a
week. Indeed, his record has been sung in verse thus harmoniously:--
Monday, hired;
Tuesday, tired;
Wednesday, fired.
One week you see the business man in the making a messenger at a
chemist's shop. Next week he is carrying reporters' "copy" from meetings
to the sub-editor of an evening paper. The week after that he is taking
tickets at a picture show. The following week he will be delivering
circulars down drain pipes. Then he will put in two days sweeping up the
hair about barbers' chairs in a saloon and brushing customers up to the
level of the elbows where the bits of hair are not. He will next take a
spell at driving a cart, and after that go bill posting at night. At
this work he will become acquainted with a theatrical manager, and will
abandon it to go on with the populace in melodrama until he gets a job
working a lift. He is by this time a fully qualified clerk. At the age
of twenty he applies for admission to the police force. All Australians
do that, apparently under the belief that it's the only position that
will enable them to keep out of gaol.
At twenty-five the Australian thinks it's about time he fixed on some
occupation. "I have had a large and varied experience," he now writes
when applying for a billet. It is immaterial to him what appointments
are offering; he answers the lot. He will manage a station or a
tea-house or take a private secretaryship to a Minister of the Crown or
test eyesight for an optician. He doesn't mind taking the message to
Garcia--not he. He likes it to be by way of a racehorse, however.
When he's fixed up in an occupation he thinks will suit him, the
Australian gets the sack. His employer finds him absolutely useless. He
has not the habit of industry, and he is incapable of sustained effort
of any kind. Ask him (if he is in a produce firm) the price of butter as
quoted in that morning's paper, and he won't know. But he can give you
the betting card at Tatt.'s without hesitation. He is indifferent to
everything connected with the business of his employer. He knows that if
the worse comes to the worse he can sleep out.
Australians who think of going to another country with the idea of
making a sleepihood should inquire fully as to the climate.