Sermon from the Mount

You know what is a real pain in the arse - when wankers decide to give you a hard time just because you're trying to do your job. Case in point - I'm working last Sunday at the 'Gabba (unfortunately it's the gayfl - but heck - they're paying me so I'll put up with it). This gang of twits rock up to support one of the teams in the preliminary game (hint - the one which copped a hiding from the Bears Lions reserve team. Anyhow - they've brought along a couple of signs to support their team - all well and good. The dumb thing is that they've decided to hang them right over the advertising signs - you know - the ones that companies pay alot of money to have seen at various sporting grounds. Covering them up kind of defeats the purpose doesn't it? Anyhow - being a good boy who actually tries to do the job he's paid to do I wander over and politely ask these twits to move their signs, trying to point out that they can hang them from the unadorned fence directly behind then.

Oh course I'm not even allowed to get that far. The turd with the porn-star moustache and bad mullet (not that any mullet is a good mullet mind you....) proceeds to starting spouting the line that they're within their rights to hang the signs wherever they want because the game they're currently watching isn't televised and the gAyFL signage only has to be displayed when the game is being televised. I point out that it doesn't matter whether the game is being televised or not - it's the stadium's policy to have these signs unobstructed. I'm starting to realise that mullett-man is currently not orbiting this planet as he's proceeding to get even more worked up about how he'll stick his sign wherever he wants while the game is not televised.

It's at this stage that I decide to call my supervisor - I'm not paid enough to engage in screaming matches with delusional escapees from bad 70's wana-be biker movies. My supervisor comes along and proceeds to repeat everything I've just said to this dick almost word-for-word. The Ron Jeremy-wanna-be refuses to budge from his "stance against the fascists". The situation is soon solved with the trusty Call to Security causing this twit's "courage" to wilt faster than a naked man facing Lorena Bobbitt with a hacksaw. The signs are moved - and I proceed to cop dirty looks from the Village People reject and constant comments that I'd "better not trip" and the like. Towards the end of the day the moron decides to have another chat with me - starting off by hoping that he meets me some other time to sort things out and then asking what else I do with my time. My first reaction is to tell him that I have nothing better to do with my life that to search out people who are simply doing their job and then try to give them a hard time, but quickly realise that this wanker wouldn't recognize sarcasm if it came up and smashed him square in the face. I simply responded by asking him to return to his seat because the area he was standing in needed to be kept clear for safely reasons.

The moral of this story is simple. If you're at some kind of venue, and a staff member there asks you to do something, they're not doing it because they've decided to give you a hard time. Contrary to what you believe there isn't some grand conspiracy designed to pick on you. They're asking you because they're doing their fucking job. Get over yourself and you're fucking complex and obey the rules. Do that and these staff would have no reason to talk to you. (sigh)......turds......

BTW - nice photo Grant - which crew do you work for? :)