By Dominic Cadden

You might have been here long enough to hear that common Aussie farewell, “Don’t work too hard!” It’s said with the same feeling with which people once said, “May God protect you,” or “Look after yourself.” They’re serious - Aussies are afraid that hard work can kill you.

You’ve possibly employed or worked alongside itinerant Aussies back in the UK. Removed from the comforts of home and having to survive on an inequitable exchange rate, these Aussies are often known as a well-humoured, hard-working bunch desperate for cash and ready to put in the extra hours. Besides, they’re just trying to scrape together enough dough above and beyond the exorbitant (to them) cost of living so they can bugger off travelling through Europe. They’re a very different team back on their home pitch. Sure, there are hard workers and reliable employees to be found but they are a rare commodity. Whether it is the climate or the temperature of the beer freezing up the motor neurons, the worst type of Aussie worker here in WA must be one of the laziest creatures on the planet.

Perhaps the temptations outside work are just too strong. The Brit worker at home might put his nose to the grindstone through the cold, dark days, working towards a rare but well-deserved break in the sun, a fishing trip, a meander through the wine country or surfing or diving. But West Australians don’t have to wait for an annual holiday or plan a flight overseas for these things: they’re all on their doorstep, virtually all year. Work naturally takes a backseat to the recreational activities immediately at hand. In fact, any request you make to put in a few minutes extra or work on a task overnight is often met with the appalled battle-cry, “I’ve got a life”. He’s also got a job to do of course but, with WA’s unemployment the lowest of any state in the country at 3.3 per cent*, he knows he’s probably going to keep it. It’s a suppliers market, and in WA many seem to think just turning up and being conscious is already deserving of an above-award rate of pay.

WA workers seem to be less worried about career and more concerned with the risk of social isolation posed by living in the world’s most remote city. This is why they rely on the workplace as a key source of social interaction, which includes discussing weekend plans from the start of Thursday onwards, then reporting on the results until sometime Wednesday morning. You also have to respect cultural rituals, such as their need to quietly worship five times a day to the almighty, omnipresent Being that takes priority over all things ­– Facebook.

All that surfing, fishing, elbow-bending and partying out at Rotto can really take it out of you. For some locals it’s almost a relief to go into work for a nice quiet sit-down but, for most, their social life is so exhausting that they often need the first day of the working week just to recover – sometimes even the Friday before the weekend to rest up, too.

To some extent it’s the Aussies’ way of showing their resentment for the fact that, without a strong religious influence and a lack of history, they feel they have been cheated of enough public holidays. Attempts to bring in more have been pathetic: there was talk of creating a new holiday for September 26th to commemorate the 25th anniversary of Australia II winning the America’s Cup and even one for November 24th, marking the overthrow of John Howard as some kind of Australian take on Bastille Day. Consequently, sick leave is a nebulous concept as open to interpretation as the Book of Revelations, but there to be used up like Paris Hilton’s virginity**. What’s more, the advent of mass bulk-billing and very short consultations at medical centres has made getting a medical certificate far easier than it ever was.

Australian history is steeped in the working class and unionism, not to mention the stigma attached to the convict heritage (perhaps it’s no coincidence that West Australia was the last colony to take British convicts). The hangnail in WA is that there’s not so much a work ethic, but a ‘shirk ethic’. It’s something Sandgropers see as a kind of intellectual revolt against repression and discipline and they fiercely guard their humanitarian rights in the workplace, such as the right to eat, drink, sleep and play cricket there. Smoko breaks are taken away from working areas, of course, and in the interests of equality, non-smoking workers expect to be able to wander off at regular intervals, too. Often smoking breaks will also be coordinated, so they appear to have all the social significance of a meeting of tribal elders.

It should be noted that none of this qualifies as ‘bludging’. In Australian English, a bludger refers to someone who lives off the work of others, as opposed to someone who rigorously pretends to work. In fact, in less unashamedly lazy cities, such as Melbourne and Sydney (and, well, anywhere, really), everyone is at great pains to tell you how incredibly busy they are, so much so that they often start work before the boss, or they’re the last to leave at the end of the day…although no-one is exactly sure what they are actually doing.

Given the wealth of other activities on offer outside of work, the locals are often more motivated by time rewards, such as dispensation to leave early or start late because of a special event. The flipside is that often when a worker is sent to a function or activity outside work, even tough ones such as a wine tasting event in a corporate box at the footy, or a conference in Bali, he or she will often demand time in lieu because they, “could have been doing something better”. 

Another argument you’ll often hear is, “I could finish/do this at home”. Sure, they could do the work from home, but they’ll have a bit more difficulty getting it done from the pub, the footy, the beach or a fishing boat, which is where they’re more likely to be. Take it from me ­– I come from a profession where people often wander off ‘to work freelance’ from home, only to return to their old employer begging for a job back four months later. And I don’t think it’s because they suffered work exhaustion.

If you work alongside West Australians, don’t think you can change their in-grained habits by setting the example of a good, Protestant work ethic. You will be shunned by your workmates, accused of sucking up and ‘brown-nosing’. Your efforts beyond the bare minimum imply a damning complicity, as if you had conspired with the boss to release Anthrax into the air conditioning.

Although much of Australia is subject to very hot summers, Aussies don’t take a siesta as they do in the Mediterranean for the same reason you don’t find beer and spirits in supermarkets here, either: many Aussies just can’t be trusted with them. Likewise, the Fringe Benefits Tax, introduced in 1985, killed off business lunches that routinely featured an alcoholic beverage or seven, because across three time zones, nothing ever happened in Australia after lunch. Still, the long lunch survives in the hearts of lazy workers, although it is now strictly reserved only for special occasions such as farewells, welcomes, birthdays, congratulations, brainstorming, pep-talks, team bonding and protest actions. Once again, if you work among the natives, you can’t afford to risk alienating your colleagues by insisting you have work to finish or appointments to keep. In fact, the long lunch becomes like a game of chicken – the first one to pull out and return to work is considered the weakest.

This can have some interesting consequences. Once I was at a farewell lunch for a supervisor. We all played the chicken game but one of my colleagues was on his last warning (his fourth last warning, I think) for drunkenness/random absences. Clearly pickled but still capable of logic, he realised that the lunch had gone on so long and he had drunk so much that his number might be up when he returned to the office. So he harassed me and two other workmates to beat him up so that he could return to the office and claim that his lateness and foggy mental skills were the result of being mugged. We declined, of course, so he tried to provoke us with verbal abuse that hit upon everything from height, parentage, masculinity and which species we favoured for sex. Eventually a patron at a nearby table popped him in the eye.

While the sun, the surf and the temptations of an ice-cold frothy chop haven’t changed much over time, there are extra reasons why the latest generation of apathetic WA workers can make a koala look as busy as Amy Winehouse at a 20 minute Jack Daniels tasting session. It’s hard to believe now, but in the early 1990s Aussies were scared for their jobs after struggling through a long economic recession. Unemployment in WA peaked at 11.2 per cent in 1991, at a time when 67 per cent of Australia’s net gain from migration came from countries such as Vietnam, China and the Philippines. This ‘Asian invasion’ seemed to cause more panic than the Japanese bombing of Darwin in 1942 (mind you, have you been to Darwin?). The newcomers worked hard, never socialised on the job and wouldn’t down tools when the surf was ‘really pumping’. But the perceived threat failed to have much impact on working practices. Since then, however, a whole generation has entered the workforce never knowing anything other than an economic boom and relaxed times. They came into their warm, temperate world courtesy of doctors who couldn’t even be arsed smacking them when they were delivered. “Not my problem, I just deliver it mate”, the Aussie docs no doubt said. “Just leave it for a bit, it’ll be right”.

Their whole mentality has evolved from the generation that came before them. Even at the interview stage, they will demand to know what YOU can do for THEM ­– apart from supply a wage so they can live, plus the superannuation, leave-loading and politely putting up with their preposterous excuses for being late with deadlines (“What? We work on the Gregorian calendar?”). It’s an accepted standard that they will lie about their previous salary by 20 per cent, but there’s no limit to the comments about how their last workplace supplied them with a phone, parking, travel allowances, cable TV and 15 minute massages from nubile young Thais every Friday.

As an employer or manager, you will also be expected to be familiar with the endless Occupational Health and Safety diatribes drilled into every student in every course anywhere in WA. Stop sniggering there up the back, this is serious ­– but rarely a cause for great concern, as the checklist goes something like this:

Does Ms X take regular breaks from her computer screen?

• Yes, every 20 minutes she disappears to the staff kitchen for a five minute chat.

Is the computer terminal suitably dimmed or fitted with a screen to ensure the safety of your worker’s eyes?

• No, but this is compensated by the fact that on the odd occasions she lurches into work on Mondays or Thursdays (after her regular session at the Hip-e Club), she stares at the screen with eyelids that are only half open. Sometimes the screen isn’t even turned on.

Is Ms X seated appropriately upright for the height of her computer terminal?

• Yes, she sits bolt upright every time she reads a hilarious group email or receives a piece of lascivious gossip from a friend. This accounts for nearly her entire workday.

If Ms X works in an air-conditioned environment, does she take in an appropriate amount of extra fluids in the workplace?

• Every time a staff member has a birthday or the office achieves some minor milestone (such as Ms X turning up for work for five consecutive days) she drinks half a bottle of wine at her workstation. Does that count?

Does Ms X observe the workplace’s non-smoking policy?

• Vehemently. She goes outside to smoke every 57 minutes.

 The über-lazy WA worker only knows the digital age, a time of internet dependency and gross specialisation. Watch how an email problem will force an employee to stare at a blank screen, catatonic, or bring forward the elaborate ‘packing up’ routine that usually begins sometime after lunch anyway (“Well, nothing more I can do here today…”). Marvel at how a lack of stationary becomes a major demarcation dispute that bleeds productivity dry with paper cuts.

Put too much pressure on a WA worker and they will bleat, ‘the mining, the mining – I could earn $120K a year up in the mines.’ Don’t worry – when the going gets tough, it’s only the tough that get going, so tell them to piss off. Go and work in a hole underground in dangerous and hot-as-hell conditions way out in whoop-whoop for most of the month. The tough, can-do, hardworking Aussies who do those jobs are cultural fairytale figures, well-referenced stereotypes far removed from the vast majority of the population; the same as crocodile hunters, horse-riding stockmen and cross-dressing Antipodean Dames of the Empire.  

So in order to get by in business in WA, you have two options: you can put up with the demands and excuses of the local workers, slow down to your colleagues’ pace, get a life and join in the workers’ solidarity slogan: “It’s all good”. Or you can do the same thing the British entrepreneurs and captains of business did 200 years ago ­– arrange to have a workforce of British and Irish slave labour shipped over.

* Jan. 2008 figure
** or Britney Spears’ drug cabinet

Excuse Me
As an employer/manager in WA, you’ll get used to carefully concocted ‘sickie’ excuses that can’t be argued with, such as that old standby ‘explosive diarrhoea’, or PMT/ morning sickness/ovarian cysts (although these are particularly suspicious when they occur in men). Very soon, you’ll know to ask employees for their family tree so you can keep track of all those relatives who drop off the perch and have mid-week funerals (it’s a good idea to ask for a piece of cake from the wake). But even if you’re a sole operator or employ only other Brit ex-pats, you won’t be immune: suppliers, contractors, casuals and freelancers will all try their porkies on you.
I had a colleague who went it alone. He soon found that his excuses for services not rendered on time got so out of hand that he had to keep a log, just to save himself from the embarrassment of doubling up his stories. My top 10 favourites were:
1. “I was run over by a car” (occasions used: 3) The first time, it was true. The second time he was more “nudged” by a car and he “milked it like a soccer dramatist”, while the third time was “complete bullshit”.
2. "Muscular Dystrophy." (1)
3. "I'm locked inside my ex-girlfriend's house and can't get out." (1)
4. "I'm at sea on a naval vessel." (2) Long story.
5. "Family crisis." (25) Safe, plausible, and rarely attracts further probing.
6. "Never mind that shit...I'm getting married!" (1) To his credit, he has been married just the once.
7. “A cabbie pulled a gun on me.” (1)
8. "You're not going to believe this, but there's been yet another murder" (1)
9. "To do the best job possible, I need more time..." (31)
10. "...and, perhaps, money." (31)