The St Georges Terrace Mining Boy

Ever since Rob got a job in big mining his ego has runaway like a BHP iron ore train. Choo choo, plebs, nothing is derailing this success train.

He’s a St Georges Terrace mining boy now and takes great pride in working for a company that would publicly flagellate him if the shareholders thought it’d result in a 0.001% bump to their dividends.

Rob is the kind of man that has fond memories of the birth of his son but he wouldn’t say that was the best day of his life. Oh, no, it was when he got 3 brand-spankin’ corporate branded polos to wear to work.

Each morning is like a montage of Sailor Moon getting dressed for battle. Something truly magical happens when those pressed chinos, immaculate polo, highly polished RM Williams and the lanyard of power attach to his body.

He was no longer a mere mortal, he was a 6 figure engineer working on a study to implement higher levels of automation into the industry. Busting a technical nut all over spreadsheets every day to create fewer jobs. It’s a beautiful thing.

Of course, he’s learned not to get too lippy about his important work in certain settings. A lesson learned well when he was almost put through a wall at Diggers & Dealers by a working class cob not so keen on automation.

Nevertheless, he knows to succeed in this industry you have to think bigger. Which most of the time means pulling down the pantaloons of compassion and shidding on who stands in your way.

To start the day, he puts his chest out and struts along with a chino-herd to a cafe. Here, the mission is simple, find a solution to their caffeine deficiency while innovating the way they blow their own trumpets.

They believe that any progress begins with a single step. It starts with an idea and if these mere plebs hear them talking about “projects” and shit then they too might be motivated to strive for betterment.

Rob decides to take an early lunch after a 2-hour health & safety meeting because someone burned their toast in the breakroom.

He assembles the other power rangers in his CBD jogging crew to warm up for the show they are about to put on.

In matching branded workout shirts, they set out to teach the Terrace that excellence is not only achieved through superior minds but also from fit bodies carved from the rocks of Mount Olympus itself.

You may wonder who could possibly enjoy running through so many people but you must remember, they are not doing it for them. They are doing it for you.

After a satisfying public display, Rob returns to his work station to enjoy the real perks of his job – getting told he’s useless by senior management who will appropriate any good ideas he has as their own. Then they’ll make him thank them for it.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?


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