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10 years on

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Away from the desk

The little bent tree
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Chamber update

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Top five street style trends
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Golden Fleece enters a golden age
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Sustainability

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Proposed changes to the Owners’ Corporation Act
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The Silly Season
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Away from the desk - March 2016

03 Mar 2016

Away from the desk - March 2016 Image

This is the (probable) story of how Tim the Trolley got stuck in the side of the Jim Stynes Bridge.

“Weeeeeee,” cried Tim, as he was pushed down aisle three of Docklands Woolworths by an enthusiastic child.

Tim loved the thrill of being driven down the aisles. Turning the sharp corners felt like he was in a Formula 1 race. After all, Tim was only four years old so any fast-paced activity made him excited.

After spending about 40 minutes in the store, Tim reached the checkout.

“That’ll be $72.45, thanks. Do you have Everyday Rewards?” said the checkout chick.

“Imagine how much oil that could buy to grease my wheels,” Tim muttered under his breath.

Moments later, he was taken to the basement car park. The mother unloaded the groceries into her car and zoomed off. Oh no! Tim was left stranded.

It was such a dark and gloomy car park. Tim became frightened. He yelled out for help, but no one came. The only thing he could do was close his eyes and cry himself to sleep.

Around 10 o’clock at night, Tim was jolted awake. Finally, a customer had rescued him!

An old man with a bushy, grey beard pushed Tim out of the car park and onto Bourke St. The old man loaded Tim up with his rather smelly belongings: a ripped blanket, old clothes, food scraps and some cardboard boxes.

Tim quickly realised that the man was one of Melbourne’s many homeless. He’d heard about other trolleys getting trolley-jacked and taken away from their supermarket home.

“Let me go!” shouted Tim. His demands fell on deaf ears as the old man continued pushing him down Bourke St.

Near the corner of Navigation Drive and Bourke St, a group of drunken men stopped Tim and the old man in their tracks. They must have come from the Nixon Hotel, Tim thought.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one of the drunkards snarled. Surrounded, the old man panicked and ran for dear life into Docklands Park.

The men laughed cruelly. “Let’s empty the rubbish out of the trolley and take it for a spin,” one of them suggested.

Before he knew it, Tim was propelled down Harbour Esplanade. He had two men sitting inside him, and three others pushing him. Although Tim enjoyed life in the fast lane, he didn’t like these particular hooligans. They were off their trolley, so to speak.

Tim noticed a pot hole coming his way, which the men were too drunk to notice. Just before reaching it, Tim sneakily angled his front wheels towards the hole.

Bang! Tim crashed over, and the men spilled out onto the esplanade. One man landed awkwardly on his elbow, while another was screaming in pain with a bloody knee.

The bloodied man picked Tim up in a rage. “I’m gonna chuck the trolley into the Yarra,” he called out to his mates.

Tim was petrified. He didn’t know how to swim and had heard rumours about other Woolworths trolleys’ lives ending at the bottom of this murky, muddy river.

Suddenly, blue and white lights flashed over the scene, and a couple of policemen came rushing down from the direction of the ANZ headquarters. The men darted off, but not before the bloodied one hoisted Tim up into the side of the Jim Stynes Bridge. “That’ll teach ya!” he growled.

“Let me downnnnnn!” Tim blubbered. But it was too late – the cops were already chasing the men down Wurundjeri Way.

For the second time that night, Tim cried himself to sleep. Hopefully someone would rescue him tomorrow. It was a hard life being a trolley.

The morning sun started to peek through the clouds. Docklands started buzzing again with its sometimes-self-obsessed white-collar workers. They hurried past him in all directions as they guzzled their coffee and chatted on the phone about the latest episode of My Kitchen Rules.

As the sun beamed down on Tim, he started to feel somewhat positive. The sunshine always seemed to lift Tim’s spirits when he felt sad and it was at that point that he saw her – a stunning middle-aged woman.

Her hair was pinned back so tightly, you could almost see her scalp. Her long nails were covered in high-gloss polish, and her lips were slicked with bright pink lipstick. Tim was convinced that his guardian angel had just appeared.

The lady gently dislodged Tim from the bridge and carefully wheeled him back to Docklands Woolworths, where he was reunited and safely chained to his family and friends.

The guardian angel walked off smiling, scoring herself a cheap coffee at DG Expresso with the two-dollar coin she had ejected from Tim.

“Ahhh, it’s all over,” sighed Tim. He was home at last!

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