Saturday, April 27, 2024

HEAR YE! HEAR YE! PLEASE YE HEAR ME PLEAS!

                                                                            





It’s a wonderful world we live in today, isn’t it?  Please note the intended sarcasm!  I need to purchase a wig. My patience was pushed way beyond its limits a few weeks back.  I was tearing my hair out because of the actions…correction…inactions of some others.  I wanted to scream my lungs out while tearing wildly at my hair.  Having now calmed down I need to get a couple of things off my chest.  It’s neither hair nor vest.

Faceless “powers that be and useless” are displaying their ignorance by trying to turn us into a cashless society.  Bank branches are disappearing faster than tree branches in fire ravaged bush land. The end to the ATM is nigh, as well.  

Those making these idiotic decisions are living in a Disney-like fantasy world of their own creation.  The harsh reality is it’s more like a Stephen King horror story.  The sooner “they” wake up to themselves the better, in my humble opinion!

The reason for my recent frantic hair-thinning was; I’ve been a loyal customer of a particular bank since Federation…a slight exaggeration, I know…but for many, many years.  When trying to access my bank account, to my annoyance and deep concern I was unable to do so no matter how often I tried.  Days upon days of endless calls to the bank aka impersonal “Call Centre” followed in hopeful efforts to have the problem solved.  Over and over, my efforts were hopeless.

In each call, in clear, precise detail I explained the problem I was experiencing, but no one listened.  No one heard a word I spoke. I could hear myself, but for strange reasons those receiving my calls couldn’t.  The situation was exacerbated even further when some with whom I spoke were impossible to understand because they couldn’t speak English.  Why anyone unable to speak English is employed by Call Centres beats me! 

Day after day, hour upon hour, I made desperate phone calls. No resolution was in sight; no intelligent help offered.  More worried and agitated I became with each fruitless attempt as each moment, each cry for help, and each day passed without answers; without action; without a remedy. 

After days of getting nowhere, in sheer frustration I tossed in an offhand, off-the-cuff, flippant comment to one of the deaf recipients of my endless plaintive pleas for a positive solution to the problem.  I made an innocuous comment many of us, I am sure, in moments of absolute frustration have pulled out of the hat once or twice.  The odd thing was my curt ad lib remark was the first time any of my words were heard by the dozens of people to whom I’d spoken.  Everything else I’d voiced had blown away in the wind except for that one spur-of-the-moment comment tossed in, in exasperation.  I’d made call after call until I was blue in the face, hot under the collar…until I turned from blue to red in the face, finally verging on purple.

The brief comment uttered by me in hair-pulling despair sure put the cat among the pigeons. I was the cat. Emotionally exhausted, and at my wits end, was I expected to cop being ignored?  I’d been copping it for days. Sick to death having to cop it, I blew my top!

Within far less than an hour of my comment made out of sheer frustration there was pounding on my door.  Upon throwing on some clothes, tidying up my hair, I opened the door.  To my surprise, two of our local policemen were standing there with smiles on their face. I proceeded to tell them of my grievance, annoyance with my bank, and the disinterest shown by its Call Centre folk.  

When I finished my tale, the older cop who had a smile on his face said to me, “You made a certain comment in one of your calls this morning….”  Both of the cops looked at me with a smile on their face as they waited for my reply.

The penny dropped.  I laughed and explained my position…why I had said what I’d said after more than a trillionth time of not being heard; after six days of not being listened to. I’d carefully explained in minute, concise detail to the uninterested person on the other end of the phone the problem I was facing. And like all the others before him, he wasn’t listening; he didn’t hear a word I said, until I uttered, “The best thing for me to do would be to put a bullet in my bloody head!  

Finally I was heard. Finally someone listened to me!  Upon hearing my frustrated utterance, the fellow contacted the police!  And, they in turn, promptly arrived at my door!  The two police understood my grievance, and the problem I’d been dealing with over the previous days.  

In final parting, again with broad smiles on their faces, the younger of the two asked me, “Do you have any guns?”  

 I laughed, and answered, “No!” 

 Wishing me well. off they went.

I understood the police were only doing their job…as was the fellow at the Call Centre who finally heard what I’d said!  However, it should not have taken that one, innocuous comment to have stirred up action!  And, it should not have taken days of fruitless phone calls before someone listened to me.

And yet, even after those few moments of excitement, another day passed. More useless phone calls followed before my dilemma was eventually taken seriously.  Until then no one, other than me, appeared to understand, or care.  Had I been speaking in a foreign tongue? My pleas had been shamefully neglected.  Corny it might sound, but I’ve always believed ears are part of one’s hearing system. Ears are what we hear and listen with. They are not just for dangling ear rings off!  Obviously the ears of those “working” at the bank’s Call Centre are blocked. 

Finally I was passed onto an empathetic, intelligent young woman named Jacquie. At long last I was heard by someone!

To my exhausted relief, my voice had magically returned. I was audible! I wanted to cry, and cry I did, in private, once the problem was solved. 

In what felt like an eternity, almost a week after the first phone call I’d made, I was heard; listened to by an understanding young woman. Within 20 minutes or so, with Jacquie’s calm, empathetic assistance, the issue that should’ve been rectified long before the days and hours spent making numerous fruitless phone calls, was set right.

Those employed at Call Centres obviously read from scripts handed to them. And like sheep, meekly they follow the script. They have no intention of straying from them, or are too lazy and uncaring to do so.  They’ve no mind of their own; they’ve no mind to help others in distress.  We, the ones in distress, just have to cop it!

By the way, thankfully, my hair has grown back.

Grilled Chilli Corn on Cob: Fill a large bowl with enough cold water to completely submerge 4 ears of fresh sweet corn, husks on. Pull away outermost layer of husks. Using scissors trim off topmost part of husks up to the cob including the silk tassel. Place ears in the water. Let sit for at least 10mins, or up to 8 hours (this will keep husks from burning). Heat a gas or charcoal grill to medium. Remove corn from water; shake off excess. Place corn on grill, cover; grill 15-20mins, turning it every 5mins or so to ensure corn cooks evenly. When corn is done, the kernels should be tender when pierced with a thin, sharp knife. Meanwhile, in bowl, melt 2tbs butter. Stir in 1tbs grated Parmesan, 1/2tsp chilli powder, 1/2tsp chipotle chilli powder, 1/4tsp ground cumin, and 1/4tsp salt. Zest 1 lime directly into the bowl; then cut the lime into wedges. Let corn cool for 5mins. When cool enough to handle, peel back husks, removing any stuck-on bits.  Brush the corn all over with the chilli butter; serve hot with a wedge of lime to squeeze over top.   

Saturday, April 13, 2024

TO DREAM THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM…

                                                                                             

                                                                                            


Call me a dreamer…I don’t care. The truth doesn’t hurt.  I’m packing my bags. Off to Dreamland I’m headed….to Dreamland, not the Gold Coast’s Dreamworld Theme Park.  My Dreamland is a land filled with peace, harmony, love, happiness, kindness, respect, understanding, and goodwill.  With all that going on one might think it’s over-crowded, but it’s not.  Everything blends together evenly and smoothly; riding the crest of an endless wave.

When I was a little girl, and then a not so little girl, my mind was often in the clouds as I travelled off to Dreamland.  It soon became a favourite place of mine to visit.  Sometimes Tony Curtis came along with me.  Other times I was riding pillion on a Vespa motor scooter, holding on tightly to Gregory Peck as we scooted around the streets and laneways of Rome with me pretending I was the exquisite Audrey Hepburn in “Roman Holiday”.  Three coins were thrown into the Trevi Fountain at each passing, and wishes made.

Oh! How I wanted to be prima ballerina like Victoria Page, the character played by Moira Shearer in the movie “The Red Shoes”.  I adored that movie, and still do to this day.  My mother was a very good dancer. She mastered the graceful arts of ballet, tap, and ballroom.  Mum tried to teach me how to tap dance.  She didn’t force it when it soon became obvious I wasn’t going to become a Ginger Rogers or Ann Miller reincarnate.

In my Dreamland I was a famous artist with my paintings exhibited in galleries worldwide. I was also a poet of note.  A few times fame came when the then kid’s magazine, “Chucklers’ Weekly” published some of my drawings and poems. That’s as far as my renown spread.

 I loved the stories my Nana told me of her younger days, about the horses that shared her life; of how she loved to ride.  My imagination galloped wildly. In my dreamland I was a courageous, cowgirl like Annie Oakley or Calamity Jane. As I didn’t have a horse, let alone know how to ride one, broomsticks became my useful substitutes.   They were worth their salt in wood and straw. I’m eyeing off mine at present. It’s almost time for me to fly off to the supermarket!

Circus movies I also loved.  Live circuses toured annually when I was a kid. Both the movies and the real things transported me off to a wonder world; off into Dreamland.  Three circuses…Wirth’s, Ashton’s, and Bullen’s visited Gympie each year.  I wanted to join the circus, not as a clown, but as a flying trapeze artist, flying through the air with the greatest of ease; no safety net required.  These days, circuses would eagerly accept me as a clown. No expenditure would be necessary for make-up, either.  So that would be a big saving, both on their count, and mine!

To find myself within the world of the March sisters of “Little Women” became one of my favourite places to be. Depending on my mood of the day, I could be Meg, Amy, Beth or, more often than not, free-spirited, strong-willed, loyal, sensitive Jo. Disguising her kind heart and gentle soul, Jo called a spade a spade. She looked at the world, and those in it, directly in the eye.

Dreamland, a place where happiness and goodwill abound; where love is all around, turning every day into St. Valentine’s Day. A joy-filled world, one where the hills are alive with melodious music, laughter and peaceful harmony. A magical land, one where you can, to your heart’s and stomach’s content, without guilt, devour old-time favourites like Chocolate Crackles and Lemon Meringue Tarts, not caring if chocolate and meringue gets all over your face.

Reality is too often cruel and heartlessly harsh, jarring one’s senses. Hence, it doesn’t hurt to dream. To have an escape hatch is always handy.

Lemon Meringue Pie: Pre-heat oven 180C.  Put 225g plain flour and 175g butter into food processor; blend until it resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add 45g icing sugar, 1 large, beaten egg and 1tbs water; whizz until combined to a ball. Tip pastry onto work surface; roll out to 3mm thickness. Use rolling pin to lift pastry up; transfer it to lined 23cm/9in loose-bottomed flan tin. Don’t stretch pastry as you tuck it into the corners. Cover in cling-wrap; place in fridge; chill 30mins.  Remove from fridge; trim excess pastry.  Press top of pastry so it stands slightly higher than top of tin. Line case with paper; fill with baking beans; bake about 15mins; remove beans and paper; return to oven for 5mins. Remove from oven; lower temp to 170C. Filling: Mix zest and juice of 6 lemons with 65g cornflour to smooth paste. In pan, bring to boil 450ml water; add lemon/cornflour mix to the hot water; stir over heat until mixture has thickened; remove from heat. In bowl mix together 250g caster sugar and 6 egg yolks; carefully whisk into lemon mixture in the pan. Stir over med-heat until thickened. Set aside for a few minutes; pour into baked pastry case. Meringue; whisk 4 egg whites until soft peaks form when whisk is removed. Add 225g caster sugar a little at a time, still whisking until meringue is stiff and glossy. Add 2tsp cornflour; whisk again. Spoon on top of filled pastry; spread meringue to completely cover lemon filling. Then create a swirl on top of meringue. Bake in oven for about 15mins until filling is completely set and meringue is lightly golden and crisp. Allow to cool completely before cutting or serve very slightly warm.