While I have briefly mentioned that I am employed, I thought I would chronicle my journey and share a little about my new job. Spoiler alert: I love it.
While searching local listings, I soon discovered that people in Sydney (I can't yet speak for all of Australia) generally register with agencies to find employment, rather than directly to companies, as is the norm in the U.S. So, day after day I would set up meetings with agencies and subsequently bus into their Sydney offices to register. After the 30 minute meeting, I would spend the rest of the day touristing, such as at the Darling Harbour, pictured below. It was a great way to explore the city while still feeling productive.
One agency I visited even went so far as to assign me a spelling test, and I was informed that highly regarded candidates score no less than two answers wrong out of the 20 words (no pressure). I found this particularly difficult, as not only are many Australian words are spelled differently than in the U.S., several of the words on the list I had never heard of. The word "Alright" presented itself, asking to leave the space blank if it was spelled correctly, or to fill in the correct version if I spotted an error. I pondered this for a minute. While my natural inclination would be to write the phrase as two words, "All right," I have noticed that Aussies tend to say it with a slur, as in, "That's alright!" Taking a shot in the dark, I went with my first instinct of spelling it with two words. Implementing a similar strategy on many of the other words, low and behold, by the grace of God I scored 100% (shout out to my Whitworth education, and to whoever invented the phrase, "I before E, except after C!").
After about a week and a half of searching and meeting with approximately five recruiters (and, notably, twice being hired - and proceeding to turn down - a Funeral Sales position), I received an email from a recruiter I had met that same afternoon inquiring if I could start a temp position the next morning. Not knowing what I was signing up for, I accepted, later learning I would be the new Service Delivery Agent for a company called Tyco in Rydalmere, NSW.
A ten minute drive, Rydalmere is an hour-long bus ride with a transfer in the city Parramatta. The perfectionist I am, I reasoned that I could work here until - and only until - I found something closer. Had I followed through with that plan, however, it would have been my loss.
I arrived to my first day of work 20 minutes late. Yes, I had both risen and shined to my alarm at 5 a.m. and yes, I did leave for the bus stop at my intended time of 6:40. I caught the correct bus - even j-walked across a traffic-polluted highway to make it on time, as is the Australian norm. What I didn't take into consideration was the second bus I needed to catch arriving significantly late, and so I became a victim of the system.
Walking into your first day of work late - especially when you haven't previously met the manager and have simply been placed by a temp agency - is a situation difficult to compete with in terms of awkwardness. (I did email the agency from my iPhone hoping they could relay the message of the bus delay, but I am unsure if my efforts were successful.) With my shoulders slumped and my mind mentally prepared for the worst, I pushed past the door and entered the building, where I was immediately greeted with a very warm welcome; not a second thought was given to my inappropriate tardiness. "All good, all good," my manager immediately stated, a sentiment I would grow to hear frequently and greatly enjoy, often paired with "No worries." Relaxed, I let my guard down as she began to show me around the building.
Tyco is huge, with three stories and hundreds of young people milling about. Notably, I was introduced to a handful of Work and Holiday Visa travelers, who sat clustered together. I could easily identify that seeking out scenic beauty wasn't their main purpose for visiting Sydney, and our commonalities began and ended with the title of our visas.
I learned that Tyco is a fire and safety company, and my responsibility would be completing "Door reports." Long story short, Tyco technicians travel around and inspect doors for fire safety regulations, write down the numerous violations and comments, and mail the papers to me. I then enter the data into a system and email it to the applicable parties. The most challenging part of the job is reading the technicians' handwriting.
While not something I have previously dreamed of, I love the job! I am allowed the space to work alone that I thrive under, while still graced with the company of several affable personalities around me. I am not micro-managed, and my boss has provided me with nothing but unconditional support and encouragement. I even discovered a new bus route that begins just a few feet from my house and arrives at the perfect time for work. If something ever happens and I am late again, I am easily able to simply shift my hours to work later in the day. If someone becomes upset, it is not uncommon to hear the phrase, "Far out, mate," which, in my opinion, completely takes the edge off. What more can I ask for??
I was initially placed next to an Indian man who didn't speak English, but after a day or two he was let go. While the language barrier didn't allow us to become more than strangers, I spent some time feeling sad for him; I can't imagine the difficulties he must have faced to not only be working in a foreign language, but to read the jargon of the door safety world coupled with the frequently un-legible handwriting of the technicians.
As fate would have it, however, the desk soon became occupied by a friendly girl who is my age and recently moved to the area from Queensland. Just like that I had made a friend. Our section is completed with two kind Sydney natives who sit across from us and are generous with their knowledge of Sydney must-dos.
While the recruiter mentioned the job may last for one or two months, my supervisor recently told me I'll be here for a long time. I suppose it may be a mutually beneficial fit: I love working for them, and they love hiring a Work and Holiday Visa traveler who doesn't straggle in from the bar every morning.
All in all, life is good.
No comments:
Post a Comment