The Wax Conspiracy

One of 3 walking defiantly beyond the dead end road

Paid in the cheese and crackers of paltry commission rates and network leads, one man has been spotted going further than his backpacker colleagues in drumming up new faces toward his daily quota. Their lot, in this case, are the minions suckling at the third teat of Hutchinson Telecom's 3 network.

Residential blocks have been harsh: homeowners and squatters locking doors and gates tighter and faster than they would for the Mormons or disenfranchised and seriously waylaid Hari Krishnas. Commericial blocks have been equally rabid, their walls and businesses plastered in warnings similar to those warding off the bill posters of ramshackle establishments and venues.

Left by way of elimination and sectioned in part on simulations, the rural and industrial.

As not even the currently-Government held telecommunications giant, Telstra, beats the path of the dirt roads and wheatbaum, the heavy, and sickly scented, smoke billowing from factory chimneys remain.

On the outskirts of the commercial and residential blocks of land, the lone walker has taken to the industrial areas of such suburbs as Smithfield and Wetherill Park in Sydney's south west. Affected, surely by the fumes as well as the sheer void of a situation, he walks from warehouse to factory talking to the workers and labourers of sites.

Those that are available and looking for the distraction are treated not to a sales pitch, but rather the questioning of the way in which their life is lived. Puzzled, a near victim asks, "There was rambling, but little else. What kind of contract would he have had me signed had he been wearing a tie and pants?"

Ethan Switch

Written on Wednesday, 21 July 2004

The Wax Conspiracy

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