Shops have what online stores don't - Retail Therapy!!

Bubba Moe Slings like many other companies are known as a manufacturing wholesaler/retailer. We supply to the general public via our website, then to stores as a wholesaler.
In this era, a business without a website could be viewed with some suspicion as not being bone fide. Any retailable consumer product should be supported by a website.
For retailers, 99.9% of products sold, are researched online previously by the consumer. When a customer comes through the door, its up to the salesperson to sell the customer the product they need or want. When a customer walks in the door they mostly do so voluntarily, I have yet to experience where a salesperson has dragged me off the street into their store and forced me to buy something before I am allowed to leave.

There are many reasons why people walk in and a lot of reasons why they walk out, leaving empty handed and the shop's till just as empty.

Retailers hate wholesalers that have their own website because it detracts business from them. I can't entirely disagree with that, though it does attract business for them in the same token.
Most retailers will challenge that the wholesaler is undercutting their prices. I agree that a hefty amount of wholesalers do, yet those who do will ultimately sign their own demise, as it also increases consumer suspicion.
Why should a retailer stock an item which is priced  20-30% lower by the wholesaler, (with exception for reason),  retailers cannot compete and will seek to stock items that don't come with a price battle. Unfortunately popular brands come can come with a price battle, unknown brands come with a sales battle. Little do most retailers know that they themselves hold a wild card. A wild card that can actually win them the battle.
Many retailers do suffer 'reconaissiance traps', where the customer comes into the store seeking as much information as possible, only to leave the store and purchase online. The sales person has spent a considerable amount of time and energy, completely educating the customer only to have another business benefit from that exercise, when that customer decides to leave the store to purchase 'online' elsewhere. Why do these customers walk out?

I'll tell you why I walk out
1) Not satisfied with information given
2) Want the product but not the colours available in the store at the time
3) Not happy with the service or general atmosphere
4) Need to process the information given a little further.
5) Not quite the right time to purchase, still need information
With options 1 to 3, it will be rare that I return to purchase that product, with number 4 & 5, I more than likely will return to purchase.
It boils down to one little but powerful human aspect- trust.

Very rarely will I make a decision purely based on price, unless it's extreme. Convenience will always outrank price. I will not travel 50 km to save $5, if it costs me $20 in petrol and $15 in tolls, nor will I order it online if it takes 2 weeks and a certain amount of uncertainty till it actually arrives just to save a buck or two.
If it's in the shop there and then, the salesperson is an expert, making me comfortable that the product will live up to my needs & expectations, I will feel more than 'special' walking out with it in a nice store bag on my way to a cafe for a conclusional Chai Latte while sporting a grin closer to a Cheshire cat.
That's what I call Retail Therapy.

I simply love a dose of Retail Therapy! its a hoot, its fun and its a complete experience. I work hard for my income and who doesn't, so I like my money to work hard for me. I want to be wooed, I want that feel good uplifting feeling that comes with the touchy feely of that freshly purchased product. I have it in my hot little hands and its mine.

The last time I bought something on line, it went something like this.
Pyjama clad, 5am cup of instant coffee by my side, 14 google pages with many repeated repeats of businesses I didn't care to visit, lots of image checks (which by the way, were woeful & tiny, causing eye strain), I made my purchase.
Whipped out the credit card, paid and was left with an email that said "Thank you for your order" and a headache bigger than Ben Hur. That's it! That's all I get, nix, nothing, nil.
I sat there drumming my fingers on the desk, quietly, for all the intelligent members of the household were asleep.
I was feeling a little empty, depleted, even a little under excited, for the purpose. OK I didn't leave the house, but I also had nothing to show for it. It equated to an anticlimax without ever getting to a climax in the first place. Retail Therapy in reverse
I realised that I did get something immediate from the exercise, it was a package called 'wait'.
Wait I did.
Four weeks after the dawn purchase, when it almost became a distant memory, it twigged that it hadn't arrived yet. It twigged because my daughters birthday was approaching at lightening speed, and this purchase was for her. A few emails, a few left messages, a few more emails, a few more left messages, all with no answer what so ever.
My girl's 21st birthday had come and gone without this special purchase arriving at all. I had no excuse to offer, because I had 21 years to get ready for this special day. The word 'heel' was, I believe clearly flaming across my head and no amount of visits to The Bad Mothers website will cover the disappointment my daughter felt at its absence.


Why did I buy it online in the first place, easy, because I couldn't buy one from a shop. None of the sales assistants would offer to order one in for me either.

Breastfeeding from the Right Hand side of the brain- part 2

Women that successfully breastfeed, do so by using the Right Hand Side of the Brain, which I call RHSOB, cause it takes to long to type out. Mums do it either by intuition, by discipline or a dogged determination to make it work.
Just like drawing, people fail at drawing because they draw what their brain says, not what they actually see. Some times just by looking at the negative spaces around the object, you see the real shape of the object, weird I know, but it puts the object into real perspective. I can replicate a 'still life' composition to greater accuracy when I draw the negative shapes around the objects. It also works better when I relax and zone in on the job at hand, everything on the outer becomes a blur, sinking away into an oblivion of non existence.

Breastfeeding is similar, all else must be cast aside, yet so many mums find this hard to do.

Relaxation is the last visitor calling when the clothes are piling up in the laundry, an array of mess is scattered across the living area, dishes are precariously balanced on the kitchen bench, fighting for a place to exist. The phone is ringing again, and again. The just out of reach mobile starts and someone is knocking at the door.

Its already 3pm, still clad in pyjamas with shag hair, not caused by an actual shag. Anxiety sets in about the fast approaching 'Devil's Hour', silly name really, cause it lasts more than 4, and the unenviable task of cooking dinner, hopefully something edible, which needs to be sorted, possibly, perhaps, maybe, if luck happens to venture in and stay a while.

To add salt to the wound, everyone mum knows a mum that seems to cope with it all, still have a figure that's shows no evidence of ever having a baby, coiffured, manicured, complete with an equally pristine family & home. Actually these women don't exist, we just think they do.

A 'neatless' house is a sign that a woman has her priorities right; equally logical, there is something sinister about a spotless house where quiet children reside.

If the psychics of life isn't enough to deal with, then there's all the advice to contend with, whether its wanted or not. Women cant seem to escape it and it adds kudos to my mother's own mantra "She, who has boobs, can give advice".
Advice, is a right of passage for all mothers to part their experience on all other mothers, regardless of bra cup size;  which confusingly always is as varied and as contradictory to all other previous information given by other mothers.
If that's not enough to invoke insanity, there's the plethora of books, ebooks, magazines, websites etc, which by the way is always written by mothers.
Breastfeeding or mothering advice should never be taken seriously if its been written by a man, seriously; its not naturally ethical. Its my soapbox thought on the topic, men cannot teach women how to be better mothers, only how to be their ideal dream mothers. The absurd idea of a man telling a woman how to breastfeed and mother, is almost as obnoxious as a man coming home to say to his wife "What have you been doing all day, you could have at least done something!"

Advice overload seems to electrify the already overloaded mind, a mind that's only just recently graduated from 'placenta brain' to 'lactating brain'. No wonder the frizzy shag hair stands on end when someone suggests the answer is to relax. Humph.

Its true, the secret to all successes is to relax. A relaxed frame of mind will achieve all desired goals easily and with greater success. Previous experience in Yoga & meditation not necessary.

Breastfeeding from the right hand side of the brain- part 1

Most people would have heard about the technique/book called 'Drawing from the Right Hand Side of the Brain". Its mostly about drawing from a different perspective, but the principles can be applied for everyday life, business or personal.
The left hand side of the brain is the almighty governor of our thought processes. The right hand side of the brain is the creative, non boundary, imaginary part of our psyche; it also has no fear!

Most children up until school age, by natures call, dominantly use the right hand side to learn. The before school years are the most significant learning years of any humans life, we learn more in those years than we do rest of our lives. From school days onwards, we learn through conditioning, we slide the right hand side of the brain towards the back waters of our mind. From school days onwards, we learn to 'measure' everything with the left hand side of the brain. Everything must have a proof, have a reason, must be seen and must be explained. We develop fear as a part of the process.

When a woman embarks on the great baby expedition from whence there is no return, a lot of the baggage she takes with her on this journey comes packed with great expectations. The heaviest & most burdensome one of all is the one called 'perfection'.
All the while, the left hand side of the brain menacingly rubs its hands with glee, its about to get its full quota and plus some more, of control.
Its the perfection package that usually starts the downfall of breastfeeding.

We see in glossy magazines, beautiful cherub babies, healthy & robust surrounded by white. White the symbol of purity & perfection. In real life babies rarely look or act like their magazine counterparts, but the toll of the subconscious starts to partner with the left hand side of the brain with some parents feeling "why isn't my baby like that? thought fermenting away deep inside.

Drawing the right hand side of the brain out will quickly dispel any unsettingly feelings. The trouble with the elusive RHSOB is that it needs to be drawn out, coaxed, possibly given a kick start if it hasn't been used for a while.

Amazingly its the very young first time mums and older experienced mums that utilise the RHSOB better than any other parenting age. For the young ones its the wonderful adage 'ignorance is bliss', they tend to go with the flow so to speak and the older mums 'get it'.
To draw out the RHSOB, you need to relax. Relaxation is the key to many successes in life; breastfeeding is one them.

The very first uncertainty mothers question is  "how much is my baby getting?" As mothers cant actually see the volume the baby consumes, the LHSOB starts to instill doubt, because people are conditioned from school age to 'prove' everything, to have evidence to support an argument. Breastfeeding mothers have to push this developed aspect aside and consider a relaxed common sense approach which uses a natural form of measurement. A weight gain of around 300g or more per week and at least 6 wet nappies a day is a sign that all is going well.

Some points to consider as guidelines
1) The smaller the baby the more feeds the baby will need. Larger babies are more efficient feeders than smaller, lightweight babies who tend to graze. Premmie babies will consume less but at more times throughout a 24 hour period.
2) Look at family genetic history, if the parents are grazers than the bub more than likely will be as well etc.
3) Hunger is painful for a baby, that's why they cry for a feed, so always feed a baby on demand. Never make the baby wait more than a few minutes. The old fashioned technique of closing the door on a screaming baby till it was 'its scheduled feed time' has thankfully been done away with, as having severe and detrimental consequences.
4) No comparison. If a mum from mothers group has a baby that feeds every 3 hours through the day, and sleeps 6 hours at night, and your baby doesn't; there's nothing wrong, your baby's pattern is their own.
5) There will always be good days and bad days.
6) Growth spurts, which is a great indicator baby is growing well also means baby will want to feed more. A few days of baby wanting to be attached at the breast permanently will be followed by a few days of longer sleeps, followed by you going shopping for clothes the next size up.

Baby Formula, is it becoming the new social No No or do my ears lie?

I think I'll make February all about breastfeeding. The do's, the do not's, try this, odd cases and breastfeeding myth busters. It would fill up February quite nicely.

I had a great talk with Danella from the Bub Hub on Monday. We have known each other for quite some time and have a cackle each time we speak. I personally love the Bub Hub site and have used it many times to help parents, forward expert parenting articles, and not at all mentioning the few distress calls of help myself when it comes to all things Little Miss Mischief, under the guise of another name.

We got to talking about breastfeeding and the ethics of advertising on parenting sites. I didn't know that formula & bottle companies are viewed as the Smoke & Alcohol of the under 3's culture! There is such a restriction of advertising placed on these companies it seems almost not worthwhile.
Bottle companies cannot advertise unless they visually include a breast pump in their advertising or have a breast pump on their product list. Breast feeding must be promoted above and beyond any substitute.

Wow! I do agree with the healthy promotion of breastfeeding but I don't agree with forcing companies to obtain a product that might not be well designed just for the sake of appeasing the advertising Nazi's. This type of behaviour is walking a fine line between enforcing conformity and overstepping social correctness. What has me confused, is who or what organisation governs this anyway.

It's scary to think that down the track just like Cigarette companies are forced to put graphic distressing pictures of diseased body parts on their packaging, the same will apply with formula cans,
"Warning, the use of formula will decrease your breast feeding life, possibly make your child stupid, shun you socially and lead to the annihilation of the entire human race!" For help on quitting formula feeding call our quit line on 13....

Or in the near future when all smokes will have to be wrapped in brown paper, just like alcohol, which will leave all unfortunate smokers having to guess which brand they might be smoking or what strength, heaven forbid if you land menthol smokes! the same could apply to formula tins, it certainly heading that way.

I can see in the near future, mothers sneaking up to the brown papered tins in the baby isle guessing if they are buying the correct age, socially unacceptable product and stowing it in their handbag, not in their trolley, till checkout time, while they peruse the crowd for any familiar faces, it would be death by gossip if caught.
I can imagine huddles forming outside school fences, with educative whispering from experienced mothers to newbies on how to detect the correct unidentifiable formula by sense of smell alone. A whiff from 10 paces minimum, then the stealth, cunningness and grace of a 1950's cat burglar to swipe it of the shelf.

There have been over the years, some strong rumours circulating that if the pharmaceutical companies had their way, formula would only be dispensed by prescription only, they have enough money and underhanded dealings going on to make that a real possibility.
What about the mother? Would the mother have to go through breast feeding counselling, be assessed by a lactation consultant before formula could be prescribed? What about the other parent? the one without the mammary glands and the hair around the nipples?
Well, hope not, because mothers will go to their grandmothers and ask "How did you do it?", mostly it was cows milk mixed with sugar of milk, boiled and skimmed, to make the home made formula of the pre 1960's. It's also a recipe for disaster.

Would a mother have to also battle picket lines of Nature mums demanding the supermarkets stop stocking the formula. Of course I wonder how many of these mums will be around to wet nurse an infant, whose mother is sick, or has lost her milk, had a car accident, had to go back to work.

Wet nursing is very natural, and has been practised throughout the eons of history, I have done it myself for 2 babes.
My imagining would involve setting up a human dairy for mothers who find nursing someone elses baby a repulsive prospect. With no formula about there's no choice, lactating mothers could spend their days lining up to be paid for their liquid gold, find it Woolies that very afternoon under the brands such as "Diary Mothers" sold in 500ml, 1ltr or 2 ltr quantities.
There are already in place underground milk banks, where mothers who, for what ever reason, can no longer breastfeed their baby, can buy breast milk rather than using commercially prepared formula. I think that this is absolutely brilliant and would solve the moral dilemma immediately, except that the pharmaceutical companies put the kibosh on that by issuing statements that  diseases such as HIV, could be transmitted through breast milk. Unfortunately they are not wrong.

I think commercial formula is as necessary a part of early parenting life as it is to teach them to drive years down the track, except formula should be less scary.

Another smoke free blog :)

The best of both worlds- Breast & Bottle feeding or no need to be a closet Comp Feeder

Some time ago I wrote a blog called 'Breastfeeding and going back to work' on the benefits of 'comp' feeding; I awaited the backlash. Alas there might have been a small amount of complaints, but mostly there were many thankyou's. Thankyou's from closet comp feeders.

Comp Feeding for those not in the know, is where a baby is dually fed both breast and bottle. Bottle fed can be either formula or expressed breast milk.

I was delighted to read an article in the latest edition of Practical Parenting, called 'The best of both worlds', a commonsense approach to comp feeding. I did scratch my head as to why such an important article that could help soothe an anxiety filled situation for most new mothers, would be right at the back of the magazine.
Maybe we haven't quite broken the taboo of Comp Feeding as of yet.

Medically proven that breast milk is best, there is no argument about the importance of mother natures own liquid gold. The longer the breast milk is offered the better, but some breast milk is better than none at all.

The first few days after a baby's birth, is the most vital in getting the important antibodies. Colostrum, the 'first milk'  (immediately available after birth and the first 3 days) is incredibly high and rich in immunity, these antibodies that will help protect our newborn babies from the nasties out there. We are talking about germs.
When the 'milk comes in' around 3-4 days after birth, this milk provides the nourishment that a baby needs to survive.
Most women are under the impression that the first 12 months is the maximum sentence handed down for breastfeeding, actually 18 months to 2 years is the optimus prime when it comes to feeding the liquid gold.

In an ideal world, the goal would be to strive for weaning that is baby led; where the baby denotes when they no longer want Mummy's Milk, which typically for most babes is around 18 months of age  and only having 1 to 2 feeds a day.
In an ideal world there would be no obstacles, such as life, that would get in the way of that goal.
Life has a funny way of getting in the way of ideals.

A mum who is having a less than perfect time at breastfeeding, might give up all together, or a mum that needs to go back to work sooner than wanted might not give it a chance at all. A tired, frazzled, concerned mum on the verge of 'losing it' will feel the need to self correct the situation by ending breastfeeding with a horrible sense of failure and guilt thrown in for good self punishing measure.

What if all 3 situations could be eased and rectified by introducing 'Comp Feeding'. There would be a high chance that the baby would achieve being fed breast milk to the World Health Organisations & pediatricians recommendation of 18mths to 2yrs of age.
There is also the fact that mums might be offloaded the burden of guilt, which is always a good thing. A guilt free mum is a happy confident mum.
As society readily accepts working mothers and mums in jeans in our midst, we should also readily accept and encourage comp feeding as opposed to non existent breastfeeding.

There are many reasons why total breastfeeding isn't successful or tangible, almost as varied as how long a piece of string is. Each situation is unique and should never be judged harshly in comparison to other scenarios. In a lot of cases, Comp Feeding could have been successfully implemented, taking away the emotional trauma, trauma that for some mothers have spent years dealing with.

Comp feeding has benefits for families as well as mum, even if it is just a simple break time for mum. Fathers, often overlooked in the new baby care routine other than nappy changing and general house maintenance duties can emotional benefit greatly when feeding their baby the bottle. Fathers that actively engage from birth in bottle feeding and carrying their baby around in a hammock style sling will bond closer to their child earlier and make a far more confident parent in their own right. Dad will parent effectively, dad style.
Grandparents, siblings, aunts & uncles, cousins or friends or who ever makes up the greater family circle will also benefit greatly with the bonding of feeding.

Most mother's will substitute the most difficult feed of the day for the bottle, which statistically speaking is the 'devils hour' feed, anywhere from 3pm to 7pm. Mum is by this time of the day very tired, maybe dehydrated (a significant problem with milk flow), older children to cart around to after school activities, dinner to be prepared etc. Handing the baby over to either someone else to bottle feed if the baby is fretful or have some one else do all the chores, but return to breastfeeding for the feeds that are enjoyed, can eliminate so much stress and pressure rather than throwing it all away because its just too hard.
One of our graphic designers Luca, has successfully comp fed her 13mth old baby since she was 3 months old. I remember Luca fretting about her struggling with breastfeeding and the rigours of a busy family and work life, when I suggested that she should try comp feeding, rather than giving up breastfeeding all together. Luca replied "Can I do that?"
Luca has continued to enjoy what she calls 'our special morning/ evening time' with her bub.

I am certainly all for 'outing' closet comp feeders. I too, practised comp feeding for 5 of my children. If I had the guts to comp feed my first child, he too would have been breastfed till  he weaned himself at around 18mths like his younger brothers & sisters did, except for Little Miss Mischief who was 3 and a half, when I decided I should start to encourage booby disengagement . Unfortunately for Ry, my beautiful chocolate eyed first born son, after months of battling the loosing battle, and feeling lower to the ground than an ants knee, I gave up. 

I give up, I give in, I let go, lets begin (from the immortal words of songbird Colbie Callait) I gave him the bottle and packed away my boobs, wrapped tightly in wilting cabbage leaves. I felt so guilty that I couldn't do such a simple natural process such as feeding my son. I had lost my mothers right of passage.

After #2 was born, which I triumphed breast feeding quite easily, I was angered by the fact that the guilt was so incredibly needless. I felt guilty about feeling guilty when I didn't really need to feel guilty in the first place.

There are a lot of reasons why some women cant breastfeed at all, and those, who have successfully breast fed, should never lay blame or instill guilt, because woman who couldn't breastfeed have done enough of that already, OK.

Withdrawal Symptons; more unpleasant than you think at a smoke free blog

Here I sit broken hearted, came to write, but I just can't get started.

Give it another try darling hubby says................

I wrote
.......The Troll emerged from his cave rambling about nonsensical nothings splashed with a dash of crazy. I could do nor more than return to sipping my tea and continue enjoying an imaginary cigarette......

Over my shoulder he read, than ended it with "look you've got it. You can do it" as rolled his chair back to his side of the office. With his back turned, I snarled at him,  I wanted to throw something really, really heavy at his direction. If I knew I wouldn't miss, I would have given it a shot. Luckily for my darling hubby, I am the worst pitcher I know. At this moment I really don't like him either, because he his more right now about anything than he has ever been.

Giving up smoking was essential, if I wanted to continue living that is. A heart attack will do the trick; change the ignorant assumption that 'it won't happen to me!' trick that is.

With perfect blood pressure, perfect cholesterol levels and the fact I haven't had a flu since 2004, I wont mention the almost daily crucifying headaches, because they don't count, I was in perfect health. I could continue to smoke 40+ smokes a day and run like the wind till I was at least 92. That's how I figured it to be. I was wrong, but I was lucky.

It has been 4 weeks, 3 days, 12 hours and something minutes, since my last cigarette, though I have smoked at least a multitude of imaginary ones since then. I am also so sick of Wrigley's Extra chewing gum....blah!. By the way, has anyone lost 10 kilo's in weight recently, if you have, great! I have found it for you, and could you please pick it up ASAP, its a real drag carrying it around.

I need cigarettes to unlock the words that ramble in dangerous, out of control directions in my head, hence the 4 blogs, 6 unfinished (but could be finished literary works of sheer genius) novels and the 3 people, whom I dodge their phone calls, because I haven't been able to finish the articles that they've wanted since before Christmas.

If I could just smoke while I'm writing, I wont smoke any other time, I promise.

Maurie, my darling hubby, hit me with the reality checked awful truth. It stung, it hurt, it was cruel.

He looked sternly at me and pounded directly at me "If you stopped writing today, you won't shatter peoples lives, they won't be devastated, you wont ruin peoples lives, they'll move on to the next 10,000 writers out there and they will continue to live. If YOU died, then you would shatter our lives, there we would be devastated, those who love you the most will be forced to continue with their lives with a hole in their heart that possibly may never close!"

Hmm, he had a point that I couldn't argue against. Sniff, sniff for the insignificant writer. Maurie was right, but he didn't need to be that right, even though he too has given up smoking as well.

As a parent we obligate ourselves to give up our vices for the sake of our children. Simply, we love our children so much that we want be better people for them, to be there for them, always.

I gave up smoking when I was 21, the very moment I found out I was expecting my first child. I had smoked since I was 13 and had tried on so many occasions to do the impossible, give up smoking. A positive pregnancy test was an instant solution.

At 13, I was whisked away from my parents to attend an exclusive boarding school for gifted children. Hailed as a junior prodigy, the masterpiece that had everyone buzzing with excitement was written at 2am one morning, in the covert darkness of my parents garage while puffing away on cigarettes I had stolen from them.
Needless to say, the school waited with abated breath for me to produce another masterpiece for the schools impressive portfolio that never came. With no access to cigarettes, the creative was drought stricken. Had they known that was all that was needed to unlock the words, they would have eagerly snuck in the contraband, as they did for other students, but I didn't realise the connection myself.

With the coming of my first child and the many that followed, I was too busy being a parent to consider ever smoking again. Always ignoring the sporadic 2am wake up of words streaming through my mind like a Japanese bullet train; for they were usually gone before I could collate them to paper anyway.

Just after the death of my father, on New Years day,  some years ago, I was left with a handful of half empty packets of smokes. My house, the venue for that years party, and as per usual there were the few standard, cliched NY resolutions. Alone later in the day, I was left with temptation that hadn't tested me in more than 17 years.
It began a tight, strongly fuelled marriage of smokes & words.
Within the year I had 2 novellas published, written a synopsis for a business that had won them so many awards that I still have people lining up to utilise my wordsmith qualities.

A few terrifying painful minutes alone in a very public place, was the demise of that marriage. Outside the ladies toilet,  my son was waiting, wondering, 'Gee, Mum's taking a long time' while he was puffing away on his own cigarette. My son no longer smokes.



 I did it though, I said goodbye to 40+ smokes a day, a truckload of rampant obnoxious words and my daily companion; the headaches from hell, in an instant.

I have done it because I love my children more than I love myself. Smoking might make me a better writer but it doesn't make me a better parent. I will always be a parent first.


In advance I offer my apologies for all future mundane, routine, smoke free blogs.

When Workcover isn't interested in employee's safety

When you think of Workcover; an Australian government authority, you could be forgiven that you'd believe this government agency is all about the safety of Australian employees within the workplace. This is not entirely correct as I found out recently.

Luckily no one was hurt to find this out, it came to light within a tense conversation I had with a rather obnoxious tyrant of an inspector.  He came storming up the stairs unannounced, throwing a flimsy business card at me, pulled out an generic officeworks notepad and started to fire away questions. I was taken back by the bizarreness of his actions, I thought, who the hell is this bloke anyway.
He demanded our complete attention, all work stopped, that meant no orders could be finalised and dispatched, which violated our very strict operating policy.
He drilled, he pursued, he hammered, he terrorised before I could stop and really look at his business card.

He had my production staff cowering in terror while the office staff made an escape down the stairs when his back was turned. Two staffer's quickly swapping their cool Havianna thongs for court shoes in the process. I did say no thongs to be worn, but it was very hot and one staff member is going through menopause at the moment which did get me into trouble. The extra fan I brought from home a couple of days prior, to help bring her some relief during hot flashes didn't have a tag on the lead, hence the fine. She murmured 'arsehole' under her breath whilst he was handing me the infringement notice. I gulped when I saw how much the fine was. It's a fan I use at home normally which doesn't require a tag by law. The next menopausal employee will have to suffice with the airconditioning we have.

While he was going through the process of inspection, at the back of my mind I felt a growing sense that something was amiss with this person, something didn't feel right about this whole scene. Something not right at all.
He started to ask me about  prestart & and end day protocols. Having gone through a terrifying armed holdup a little over 2 years ago, which left a deep emotional wound not only in myself but in both my daughters who were present that fateful evening, I held back the tears of pain to explain what happened and how we now have a very strict policy on staff safety before and after hours.

His response was contritely apathetic "I am not interested if you escort your staff to their car after hours, or you have a secret code for emergency if they have been threatened by intruders, I want to know if you have a prestart meeting every morning outlining known safety hazards for the day!"
With that I said " You do know that women having finished work late at night are in more potential danger of being attacked or possible killed than by the absence of tag on a temporarily used domestic table top fan? You do know that some staff carrying the days takings have been ambushed causing detrimental emotional carnage for years onwards?"
he replied as he lazed back on my chair he commandeered while zipping up his fly in a condescending manner that made me feel more than uncomfortable "Workcover isn't interested in that at all" was his retort.
"Really? How very, very sad that Workcover isn't interested in the true safety of employees" I shook my head.
I thought of the fines produced that day from small businesses everywhere that were breaking protocols innocently. I left the offending fan at work while I waited for the electrician to come and tag it, at least my employee can still have some extra comfort during the hot flushes. I had already been fined. I also thought about the $3 million fine that filled Workcover's coffers after my son's accident and how little was the tiny speck of compensation he received, though his life would never be the same again. I also thought how the company he worked for folded and the livelihoods of 30 other men was extinguished as Workcover became all the more richer for my son's tragedy.
I would have thought that it was far more logical to have rehabilitated, educated and assisted the company to be safe in all aspects of operation rather than executing it.

A similar execution is now raining down on a dear friend.

Workcover must have released their 'dogs' in the vicinity of our area for a snoop operation as a friend,  business owner and employer was also overrun by the workcover militia at the same time as us. The last month has turned her from a bubbly, happy, a much loved employer and person in general, into a dithering mess, now on suicide watch. What has she done wrong?
No faulty equipment, all leads tagged, all bars of soap in the toilets and washbay have techspec sheets pinned to the wall, anti allergy sheets in the lunch room, a full time employee that has been trained as a first aid officer, a full metal first aid kit with padlock, fire extinguishers, exit signs visible, an emergency evacuation plan, O, H & S folder, coffee, tea, chai and hot chocolate provided. My friend has a lot of love and respect for all her staff, and they in turn for her.
My friend's husband was called by a concerned staff member after hearing his wife on the phone to the Workcover inspector in a hail of tears wondering if she died in the next 21 days would her family then still be liable for the $15,000 fine and 6 months imprisonment. If she died would all the trouble go away. It was the final straw after being forced to submit a piece of paper more than 5 years old. A historical piece of paper of no value that she no longer had in her possession. She had 21 days to submit the no longer existing, expired piece of paper.
He collected his inconsolable wife from her office and hasn't left her side since. He is wondering how it got this far?
"For f@%k's sake he says to me it's a frigging piece of paper from 6 years ago and I am losing my wife because of it!!".

It might be the retrospective piece of paper that has my dear friend unraveling at the seems, but it started with a hand rail that was 3mm too close to a wall. A minimum clearance for those who might be unfortunate enough to have fat, chubby fingers, but a woman walking alone at night to get to their transport home is of no concern for Workcover.
My dear friend was given the option of demolishing an entire wall and rebuilding it 3mm further away. Her husband used a winch strap and buckled the rail inwards, away from the wall. The rail is now significantly bent, unsightly, but it passes. Then came the lighting issue, then came a folder which was named "The Methods Manual" by my friend, but it should have been named an Induction folder.
Couple of times a week he came in with notices for this, that or whatever, each time she went home biting her nails. Each time she managed to fix, find or resolve.

He finally found something that he could fine her with. He wanted to see a workers compensation  insurance schedule for every year that she employed staff. My friend did what every one else does, throw out the expired insurance cover and file the new one. Her insurance company helpful as they were, could only supply the last five years of cover, finding the whole request odd themselves. With frantic phone calls back and forth, the inspector seemed to lighten up, seemingly satisfied.
A few days grace, with a return to normal work routine along with major catch ups, a letter arrived in the mail with the formal notice of the fine of $15,000 and 6 months imprisonment if the old insurance covers were not produced within 21 days. My friend buckled.

The iron clad lady of justice had come calling, shod with shoes of malice.


I had been suspicious about our inspector's actions so I did some research. There is a handout available directly from Workcover called "When Inspectors call". Much like the audit charter  booklet I was handed by the tax audit officer at the beginning of our tax audit last year, it gave very clear guidelines and expectations about the whole process. This booklet is an invaluable source of information, easy to read and understand and it must be handed to all employers that are being inspected.
Sadly for both inspectors we are dealing with here, neither seemed to be aware that there a few rules inspectors must stick too.
I had already confronted my inspector about a few things, I haven't seen him since.

Workcover Inspectors can come unannounced, but they must show photo id. If they cannot produce a photo id, then an employer can exercise their right not to allow them onsite until confirmation with Workcover can be obtained.
They should be accompanied by an industry professional (always a min of 2 people) an inspector should never be alone.

The first time visit mostly involves assessment. The role of the inspector is to also provide information, education and advice on the requirements of OHS or workers compensation law.
Provide advice on the development and improvement of systems to eliminate or reduce the risk of injury and illness. For small businesses, stumbling with the anally retentive protocols of OHS will be offered a Small Business Starter Kit (catalogue No. 50)

Inspectors according to this compliance manual should only initiate prosecution action against negligent or reckless offenders.

Employers also have the right to appeal any infringement notices if they feel it is unreasonable.

This manual might just be the saviour for my friend to win the appeal. She's definitely not the murderer that could be freed on a mere technicality, but an innocent woman whose normally sunny demeanour has been crushed by a series of unfortunate Workcover events.