6:30 am – my fresh New Balance runners add a pep to my step as I fire up the leaf blower to show the leaves who’s boss. I’m aware it’s outside the permitted hours but I break the rules, I’m the one that your nan warned you about.
6:50 am – I slip my Bunnings hoody on and arrive early. I am gripping my PowerPass card like a toey Orangutan holding its ginger rod at the zoo. I will be respected today for I have an ABN. I’m basically a tradie.
7:10 am – my first mission is to find some reticulation supplies to fix the broken sprinkler heads I ran over. I disguise the fact I don’t know what I’m doing by talking over the Bunnings employee trying to help me.
7:30 am – my second mission is to buy the biggest, gnarliest nailer to secure some small raised wooden garden beds with. A staff member attacks my manhood by suggesting a hammer would do the job for a fraction of the cost. He then tries to sell me an Ozito. Do I LOOK like an Ozito guy?
8:00 am – time for some timber. I head over to the wood section and deepen my voice to “tradie conversation” levels. I throw in a few cuss words so he knows I speak his language. God he’s impressed.
8:30 am – a number of staff members watch as I insert the long timber into my VW Golf. I’m careful to minimise the overhang to just a couple of metres. One of the men suggests I hire a trailer. I tell him that I’d rather die.
8:45 am – after ignoring the impassioned pleas of the staff and two other shoppers I decide to quench my appetite at the sausage sizzle. I think it’s a perfect time to do some tradie cosplay and bring up OHS rules surrounding onions. I act like I am familiar with OHS compliance and how they frustrate me on the “big jobs”.
8:50 – I stuff my stupid face with sausage as I navigate the parking lot. To my shock, the overhang timber has made contact with a real man’s dual cab. I get out of my car to hold my own and the man raises his voice at me. Great, the aggression has caused an involuntary release in my jocks. Just a bit. I’m not a coward after all.
9:30 am – fantastic, I’ve managed to imbed a nail in my foot with great velocity. I scratch my head as to how this could happen given my skill and workmanship. I call out to the wife for a lift to the hospital and she makes a snide remark about how I won’t have the garden beds ready by Spring.
2:30 pm – I’m not going to lie, being in the Emergency Department for a work injury is giving me a very stiff length of untreated pants pine. These nurses must be using every little bit of self-control to not come over and rub themselves over my ruggedness.
3:30 pm – I’m finally back home and there’s no way I’m not heading back down to Bunnings to show everyone my worksite injury. My foot is incredibly tender so I ask the wife to drive me down.
4:00 pm – after hobbling around trying to find men to impress, I corner the staff member who sold me the nailer to tell him it’s clearly faulty and I need a refund. I tell him there’s no other explanation for my injury. He mutters some words under his breath, I choose to assume they are words of deep respect.