Not you're blog
My first day was a mess. I hadn't received a text about what time I was scheduled to be picked up, so I went to bed early and awoke early just in case. I prepared my lunch, water for the day and refilled my vape and sat patiently outside my hostel awaiting my new supervisor.
My supervisor, a born and bred Maori of Northland, crushed my hand upon shaking it. Twenty three years he's been doing the same job, but he says he loves it and I couldn't find a fault with his effort in managing the crew.
So the ride to our bloc was a good hour and a bit because we had to pick up some islanders. The first coworker I met was a smiley Papua New Guinean and a Salomon Islander who could barely speak English but somehow has a Finnish accent. It's difficult to talk to these islanders due to how amusing they speak.
At the site we had to wait another half an hour because another crew was tasked with picking up the trees. A few curse words were muttered by my supervisor, a sports fanatic.
We begin planting, and it was easier than I anticipated. I bungled the initial few holes but quickly got the hang of it until we marched over the frost hardened ground. This was the challenging portion of the day because of the impossibility of finding a patch of soil to open. I spent a good ten minutes smacking a patch until I asked me supervisor to let me move on. He went to the patch of lipped dirt and began smacking his shovel away until he told me I won this round.
I follow up the hill, smacking away at the ground, hoping my feet will stop hurting and vexing myself about my urge to buy cheap gumboots. Having no sole really crafted a good pillar of pain running through both legs and my lower back. But I continued either way.
After running out of water I felt rather dumb not preparing more earlier.
And then my supervisor told me we have to leave early so I can get drug tested. Another brief interlude of shenanigans begins as he races down the mountain and speeds back to the city to make sure we get there in time. During the ride, my supervisor always responded with the most flat, stolid yeh. Anything I said was met with a flat yeh, but he soon showed emotion when he began discussing how he met his wife in a nightclub or how he got an underaged kid into a bar and escaped the cops from booting the kid out. Crazy bastard. What got me was the amount of tics this man had. He'd slam back into the seat at times and fly into these bouts of rage, screaming at the top of his lungs at the slow drivers ahead of us. "HURRY UP, YA DONKEY." "YOU FUCKING....SLOW CUNT!" "FUCKING CHRISTCHURCH WANKER!" "COME ON GREEN CAR, COME ON HURRY UP, COME ON GREENY" "YOU SLOW MOTHERFUCKER DON'T SLOW DOWN. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU BRAKING YOU TWAT!" And so forth but he's alright albeit a bit short fused.
When I was getting drug tested the lady got suspicious of me when I asked for water. No fucking sympathy. I told her I was dehydrated and she dismissed it as some ploy. When I returned the cup of brown urine, she said dear dog you are really dehydrated. Fugging hell, but I passed and get to work in the rain tomorrow. Oh and there was a huge cloud of smoke from a nearby burn off in pic three. It moved in super quickly and left a few hours later.
>"HURRY UP, YA DONKEY." "YOU FUCKING....SLOW CUNT!" "FUCKING CHRISTCHURCH WANKER!" "COME ON GREEN CAR, COME ON HURRY UP, COME ON GREENY" "YOU SLOW MOTHERFUCKER DON'T SLOW DOWN. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU BRAKING YOU TWAT!"
based
Hard to imagine that it's winter now in NZ, I'm sitting here half naked and sweating. Is reforestation a larger project in your country or do you only mend some area that burned down?
Firstly, I'm a dirty Canadian and forestry is an integral role in Nziggers economy because of how well certain species grow and their quicker growth rate. A pine from Canada or America can mature five to ten years quicker. As to reforestation, I'm not so sure. Maoris also terraformed the land using fire, and the British raped old growth to construct ships and other infrastructural projects. There like is a reforestation project underhand in certain areas with rarer endemic species but I can't help you with that information.
If you can drive a spade into the earth, you can get a job. There's a few Czechs I see working around the site. Pig disgusting language, but they have an insane work ethic.
I don't recommend it to work an as Anglo ot European but if you're a Brazilian ot Argentinian or Czech, it's the ideal hell to slave in. Go to Aussie instead if you're after better wages.
NZ is much about control, which means creating jobs by false means. Drug testing is a huge part of the hiring economy, and keeps a good chunk of dole recipients and bydlo either working low tier jobs or on the dole or doing criminal activities to afford their habits. Its also just part of the culture and despite it being a nuisance, its a good way to keep me clean.
t.reformed druggie
As stated above, I think it's a double edged sword to have drug testing across most jobs but it does keep a lot of dregs out of higher tier jobs. It's crucial here because today I was scaling a fairly steep slope (70℅ in certain parts) in and around huge heaps of pine slash.
My coworkers are alright. My driver is a huge dung headed islander from the Salomon Islands and this dude is built like a boulder, and has a this gaze that is somewhat lecherous (bad for me) and rather empty.
I considered myself moderately fit, but this is the next level sort of job I've been looking for to push me past a plateau I've been scratching a wee while now. My legs were wobbling around 11am, and I could barely hobble my way upwards. It's odd how my arms aren't at qualms with the repetitive digging, but my legs are decimated after three days. It was sick to slide down the last hill face we planted in the afternoon. I also had a good twenty minute break around noon, and I was utterly flat lined until chugging 1L of water.
My pathetic number of 400 plants is pitiful compared to the multi year planters who are pushing over 1000 a day. At .37 cents a plant, its a fine chunk of change.
I am looking forward to getting stronger, and start highballing. I can definitely make over 200 a day in less than a month, I just need to eat more protein.
I only see it as a fast way to get stronger. And yesterday's number was 400 plants, minus a few that someone else helped me with. Today I did 600 by myself and I only fugged up a few times with the contour.
Still I need to usurp the veteran Czech planter who planted 1200 today. Nothing pushes me more than to reach his level and surpass him.
Don't be. The grass is always greener.
I kind of envy the office worker. You live a leisurely life, without wearing out important parts of your body. Eventually in old age I'll be hobbling to the toilet while an office worker will gently stride to the liquor cabinet.
Today was marginally better than yesterday. I pushed myself to finish 700 saplings, meaning I made $250 dollarydoos, and I'm so fugging tired as a result, I can't think straight. My hands are the worst losers of the week, having lost all previous callouses I've developed throughout the years of wörk and exposing soft red tissue to the world. And now I'm on a two day weekend, meaning I can do whatever the fug I want, except inseminate a good looking woman.
Nothing too exciting to report except my Czech foreman losing his cool with a PNG worker. I was sitting down after mucking through 1km or more of mud with 200 saplings in my planting bag. He later voiced his frustration about his boss demanding him to push his workers to plant more. Industrialization was a huge mistake, and I can't keep my mind from seeing how disgusting this industry is with the amount of erosion taking place on these hills. It almost brings a tear to my eye, but I've seen so many avenues of work where everything is compounding to an uneven balance against nature and our irresponsible uses of her treasures.
I hope Bernd has had a good week too. I'm gonna go get a pizza.
Found a recently deceased deer in another portion of last Monday's bloc.
My manager went ballistic when the owner called him. He started immaturely flipping his middle finger to the dash.
It's very relaxing working in this bloc, as its easy to walk and fairly stress free because there's no way I can make money here, so I'm on hourly at 22 an hour (a bit low). Cheap Czech owner, but at least I'm doing something and making monies before I leave NZ.
>117379
Strangely it didn't smell at all. Must have been some sort of Maori magic floating about.
Today was okay. I was a bit cold. 500 trees, which isn't good but its 212 dollarydoos with the tree rate. Same bloc too, and this replant is due to some asshole from last year rushing through to make double the money.
And near the end of the day, a coworker from Fiji, and well educated from the sound of his voice asked me if I have a wewman. He said he'll find me someone which makes me both suspicious and worried, as he said his oldest child (no sex was mentioned) turned 18. Could be good if it leads to citizenship, but I am tired of wageslaving in the NZ. I barely make anything compared to if I were in Aussie and I feel I make a similar wage in Canada. Fucking NZD is below .70 to the USD, making me disgruntled again I didn't exchange some into GBP earlier.
I also have less of a life now. I awake at 5:20am, and return home around 17:40 now. I couldn't stop thinking about weed all day.
Why yes. Only for a wee bit in South East Asia before money was running low. I had enough to enter NZ but Aussie was a $5000 dollarydoo qualification. I could have cheated but their immigration standards are quite stringent.
Yes I believe it was a western facing slope, which will remain frosted throughout the day during the winter in this area.
And Oz has far less abusive taxes. Canada is the better of the three anglosphere cunts, but I'd make a bit less now due to inflation raping the price of commodities. Weird how it works.
Pretty boring day except the first part of it. My maori supervisor was driving us into the bloc when we spotted a deer standing in the middle of the road. It ran towards the edge of the bloc but failed to make it over the barbed wire fencing. The Fijians darted towards it like animals and grabbed it to tie it up. Turns out a hunter grazed its heda with a bullet and failed to kill it, possibly explaining why it was so weak.
They tied up the poor young deer and left it rest all day beside a stack of trees. Upon returning to it, one of them who had aided in catching it, debated to release it. It touched me as he before was thinking about cutting its throat. He unraveled the leg ties but it refused to run away. So I told him its better to just eat it. He agreed, and his countrymen helped him lift it into the back of the ATV. I thought it was disrespectful how they tossed it into the back, and how one of them hit the animal as it bucked for freedom, but it was a good observation how Fijians treat their animals and food. It was a cool dynamic situation watching and feeling the group feel like a hunter gatherer tribe.