Ugly Smugly

Smug people are really annoying. I don't like them at all.

There is one member of the "smug club" who I find particularly annoying and am forced to encounter on a weekly basis. How this Engineer found her way into my editing class, I do not know, but her priority seems to be to make sure that everybody knows that she knows everything, and is right- always!

You have probably encountered such an individual at one time or another. The type who answers every rhetorical question and interrupts loudly, drowning out anyone else who dares share their opinion.

Smug people are cunning types. They try to disguise their true nature by diverting your attention. For example, the smug girl in question often interjects loudly with a furrowed brow, then trails off her self-righteous declaration with a pseudo-shy giggle. It's such a well-rehearsed act that I'm certain many are unaware of the truth.

It was only today that her smugliness revealed itself to me. During class discussion, I suggested an editorial correction, which admittedly was wrong as I had misread the sentence of the manuscript in question, but upon hearing my suggestion she actually scoffed, and to my amusement was reprimanded by our tutor.

Dear Smugly,
Perhaps in engineering it's important to be right all the time, but the English language is quite different. There are many acceptable, yet varied, ways to edit a manuscript because editing is intuitive, not scientific. What are you going to do when you encounter a challenge that can't be fixed by regurgitating a quote from a handbook? Good luck in the real world.
Sincerely,
Laura

"Can I interest you in a used car...or an apartment perhaps?"

Now that we are feeling more comfortable and knowledgeable in Melbourne, Ax and I have started our search for the perfect apartment (aka. the perfect compromise). Two properties have been viewed so far on this quest, but I suspect we'll have worn holes in our shoes by the time we find the right place.

I decided to view apartment number one while Ax was at work last week. After getting stuck in the wrong lane on a busy road then taking a convoluted detour to get back on track and handing over five dollars for metered parking, I finally found the dump, um...I mean place, situated right next to a construction site. I reluctantly approached the dirty, yellow, ground floor door and pushed it open to reveal a decrepit, green and red, dirt encrusted foyer, with a fly ridden cement stairwell and an ancient minuscule elevator. By this time it was about ten to one and the inspection was not due to begin until one p.m. I slowly made my way up to the third storey, with my brow becoming increasingly furrowed as I absorbed the overall disgusting-ness of this eyesore of an apartment block. When I reached the door of the apartment, I looked at my watch (...two minutes to one), and quickly turned and fled back down the stairs, with my index fingers in my ears, away from the audio-visual pollution and back to the refuge of my car. It took me a few days to get over the initial shock of realising that real estate agents are liars and no better than used car salesmen.

Surprisingly, I woke up this morning still hopeful that our perfect apartment was just waiting to be found, and was possibly only hours away from discovery! Silly me. I had e-mailed a couple of agents on friday afternoon, hoping to schedule in a viewing or two on the following monday. Neither responded, but I was determined. Ax and I set out for the day and finding ourselves in the area of one of the advertised apartments, decided to have a drive by look. As it happened, the apartment was located right next door to the leasing agent so we asked the agent for a viewing. The space was described as a 'gorgeous self-contained studio apartment' with 'sunny paved courtyard' and 'sunny living room/bedroom', and the photos of the courtyard and kitchen were good, so I was excited to view our potential home.

The real estate agent was very busy and important so we waited about twenty minutes until he had time to show us the property next door. It had a nice high fence with a solid wooden gate, and the courtyard was pretty too. The kitchen was modern, with stainless steel surfaces, Ax and I smiled at each other with approval. The bathroom was small and minimal, not so good. Despite the bathroom, we wanted to see the rest of the place, but the agent had come to a standstill. We were confused- where was the rest? 'That's it...studio apartment', the agent said. Apparently, in real estate speak, any floorspace- regardless of its location i.e in the kitchen, can be described as 'livingroom' or even 'bedroom'! As we're no so keen on sleeping in the kitchen, or hanging our clothes in the shower, Ax and I decided to give this one a miss.

Excuse Me Waiter, I Didn't Order the Rant Special!

Richmond Hill Cafe & Larder
With a lot of free time and a little money in our pockets, Ax and I decided to venture to some yet-to-be-explored corners of our new city. Our journey led us to Bridge Rd (Richmond) just as a heavy downpour began to ease. With grumbling tummy's we paced the steaming footpath, keeping our eyes peeled for a chic eatery offering brunch and some much needed cafe au lait. We landed on the doorstep of the Richmond Hill Cafe & Larder (a large cafe with deli and fromagerie), and being pleasantly surprised by the prices posted on the menu in the window, decided to head in.

I asked the waitress for a table for two, and she glanced at the reservation book with a furrowed brow then looked around the half empty cafe with an expression of concern on her face. The floor manager was called over and he too studied the reservation book and the 10-15 empty tables, and then proceeded to offer us a place at the bar and a booking for the next available table. "Um...there seems to be quite a lot of available tables, so I think we'll just go somewhere else" I said, totally perplexed. According to the manager, those tables were reserved for people arriving in 15-30 minutes. "There are a couple of tables who will be finished shortly, if you'd like to wait at the bar for one of those tables", he said. To which we replied, "No thankyou!" and left.

Is this a new phenomenon, the mysterious empty yet "fully booked" restaurant? Why could he not have given us a table and assigned one of the bookings to the next table to be vacated? As this cafe is partly owned by renowned Australian chef Stephanie Alexander, I am still curious to sample the fare, but this incident has left a sour taste in my mouth. I won't be going again anytime soon, but next time I'll book a table!

Image from www.melbourne.breakfastout.com.au/richmondhillcafelarder