Chapter 9 · 9 min

Chapter 9

After the first day, when the welcome party, no, that mess, broke out, there was no one who spoke to me.

As if I had caught some contagious disease, everyone was busy sidling away.

I also knew that Park Ji-hun, who had played the twenty-eight-year-old eldest, gathered the kids behind me and went around cursing me thickly.

The modifiers were flashy too — 'mannerless bastard', 'lunatic who doesn't know up from down', and so on.

I will wager that a guy like that definitely causes an accident within the working-holiday period.

If not, I will fry my hand.

Anyway, I had no time to care about that childish ostracism.

Things I had to settle right away were piled like a mountain, so why mind that.

Rather, with no one bothering me, it was nearly a thing to cheer.

And Australia... a truly odd country.

Truly, except for breathing, everything needed a ticket.

I understand looking after safety when handling machines or doing dangerous work, but there were even plenty of cases where, crossing a state line, you had to get that neighborhood's certificate anew to run the same equipment.

'What kind of country is this?'

I clicked my tongue dozens of times inwardly.

However I looked at it, it seemed they were doing it to collect tax.

Anyway, inside this inefficient, sickening system, the task I had to break through right away was getting the white card, essential on an Australian construction site, and a forklift certificate.

The forklift, because you could take the test fastest at the same place as the white card, I applied.

For the practical, I was confident I would pass even turning the steering wheel with my toes, eyes closed.

The problem was the damned written test.

Already the third fail.

"No, what lunatics set this many English questions to drive one forklift?!"

I buried my head in the desk and lamented.

Australia's certificate-test rules were strict to the point of vicious.

A slip test of 30 questions, and here you must not get more than 2 wrong.

Pass all that and the main written test is 70 questions, and here if you get 4 or more wrong you fail without mercy.

And the 11 math questions calculating load, get even one wrong and you had to pack and go home on the spot.

The first day, I was confident.

Trusting only the English and knowledge I had studied so far, I roughly heard the class at the truck school and went into the exam room.

And I got 9 wrong and was eliminated in a flash.

"Why is this wrong?! On site everyone does it like this!"

The content was all things I knew, but it was a disaster from failing to catch the twisted English passages and the subtle word differences in Australian industrial-safety rules.

On the second test, grinding my teeth and reading the English passages, I misread one number on a load-calculation question and failed clean.

Really!

Failing in a row, it felt as if the world were rigging against me.

The one fortunate point was that, perhaps because I had paid 300 dollars in school fees, I did not have to pay separately to retake.

And today, on the long-awaited third test, I slipped by a hair, short exactly one question on the main written.

"Haa······."

I had really been confident... the moment that damned pride collapsed in a heap.

"Hahaha! Jeong-su! Failed again? Hang in there, mate!"

While I was tearing my hair in front of the lounge vending machine, someone struck my back with a hand like a pot lid.

It was Sam, an instructor at the heavy-equipment school.

A hairy man in his later years, belly out like Namsan, laughed as if the news of my failure were the funniest news in the world.

Flared by that laugh, I shot up from my seat.

"Sam! Australia really is a sickeningly strange country! They tell you to produce a ticket just to breathe! Having to get the certificate anew when you cross a state, isn't that crazy? Is the way you press the accelerator different on a New South Wales forklift and a Queensland forklift!"

"Oh, calm down. Rules are rules. WorkSafe has no mercy."

"No, damn it, look at this!"

I took a thick wallet from my pants pocket and spread it, flash!

Inside the wallet, every kind of national technical certificate I had earned in Korea — excavator, forklift, crane, loader, shielded-metal-arc welding, gas-tungsten-arc welding, carbon-dioxide-gas-arc welding — spilled down in a row like an accordion.

"I'm a person who had all these certificates in Korea and taught hundreds of people! Forklift? In Korea I loaded shells and bullets with that!"

At my indignation mixed with exaggeration, and the feast of Korean certificates spread in a row, Sam and the Australian blue-collar men in the lounge clutched their bellies and rolled.

"Puahaha! I'm going crazy. That guy could go on stand-up."

"My god, those are all certificates? Jeong-su, did you sell certificates in Korea?"

"Holy shit. Looking at the certificates alone I'd think you were a Transformer! Heh heh heh!"

I laughed emptily, as if dumbfounded, and added a self-mocking joke.

"Really, at this rate later they'll tell you to produce a certificate even to shit on site. Calculate toilet water pressure and butt angle, and if you don't have a 'grade-1 bowel-movement certificate', no entry to the bathroom! Right?"

At my words the lounge became a sea of laughter, literally.

Sam even leaked a tear and pounded my shoulder.

"Hahaha! A fucking excellent idea? I should propose it to the WorkSafe bastards! A site-toilet ticket!"

Funnily enough, I matched code far better with these Australian local men, reeking of sweat, than with the thoughtless Koreans in the chicken coop.

And these men really have no prejudice.

In a place where small talk is daily life, pushing on in shameless Korean-ajusshi style, I could get close to Australians really fast.

Should I say there is no rank?

Unlike vertical Korea, these were all horizontal.

"Right, right. Transformer brother from Korea. I know your skill is excellent. But to make money on Australian soil, you follow Australian law, what else? Tomorrow is the weekend so rest well, I'll book the retest for next Monday, so dig the word list more over the weekend!"

Sam winked and passed.

"Aigo, really······ that kangaroo of a man."

Grumbling, I still picked up the English textbook that had fallen on the floor.

Whenever I sat the written it broke with a bang, and the stress reached the crown of my head, but I could not give up.

I could not delay my vast plan over scraps of paper like this.

I gathered my things, got up dragging, and left the school.

"See you Monday! Jeong-su~."

"Fuck you! Jamie!"

"Puahahaha!"

"I'm going crazy! Jeong-su is too funny!"

Not even a woman, and full popularity with rough men.

'Damned. Next time I really get a hundred and leave this sickening written board.'

With that resolve I went back to the share-house veranda and began memorizing every answer.

Really, without changing a single particle, I memorized only that all weekend.

* * *

"Pass!"

Damn. I only memorized without meaning, and I pass.

The moment that word fell from the proctor's mouth, I clenched both fists without knowing it and shot up.

"Hurrah! Damned, it's finally over!"

The forklift written test, ankle-caught by that sickening English, that I had drunk the bitter cup fully three times.

The hard problem that angered me more because I got questions I knew wrong was finally solved.

Something this easy.

Coming out of the exam room into the lounge, the Australian blue-collar men who had snickered using the news of my failures as a side dish whistled and clapped.

"Oh! Transformer from Korea, finally got the ticket?"

"Congratulations, mate! Now you can shit with pride even in an Australian bathroom!"

Even amid that mischievous jeering I squared my shoulders arrogantly and walked around loafing.

'Right. I'm not coming here now. I'm the winner. I'm going to make money.'

Trading the cheerful congratulations for a fist bump and snickering, Sam, who had been my instructor, drew two coffees and casually came up beside me.

"Congratulations, Jeong-su. You suffered a lot. The practical, well, a guy who rides it with his eyes closed, so this is really the end. So, have you looked into a place to get hired right away?"

Taking the coffee Sam handed me, I shrugged lightly.

"No. Not yet. The ticket is out, so now I'll slowly send resumes and poke at warehouses and sites."

"Yeah? Then shall I introduce you to one decent job?"

Sipping coffee, I paused a moment and looked at Sam.

Suspicion struck up first.

'Is this a trick to sell me off to a vicious remote site where people are hard to find?'

But soon I shook my head.

Only a few days, but the Sam I had dealt with was a typical Australian worker, no ornament, easygoing.

Absolutely not a man who would hit the back of the head.

"An instructor even places jobs for a student? Is this kind of case common?"

When I asked with a deliberately puzzled face, Sam burst a good-natured laugh and tapped my thick shoulder.

"I don't do it for just anyone. But you're a capable one."

"Capable?"

"Yeah. A guy who carries a dozen certificates in his wallet. English was the weak point, but field experience and the sense for machines, a real veteran who'd be welcome anywhere. Honestly, to put it plain, if I place an ace like you with a client, my face lives and my reputation gets better too. From my side too, it's a tremendous gain."

Only then did I fully drop my guard and curl the corner of my mouth.

The human relationship I like.

A clean, transparent give and take, both ways.

A relationship that moves thoroughly for each other's gain, not clumsy pity or goodwill, does not twist easily.

"Hahaha! Good. Win-win, both of us."

I laughed heartily and opened the bag zipper.

And I took out the English resume I had prepared in advance and handed it to Sam.

"I'm counting on you, Sam. I really like a job where I play and eat and make a lot of money."

"Haha! Damn. Jeong-su. If there were a spot like that I would have gone in first!"

"Heh heh."

"Wait. A call will go soon."

Sam's words were not a joke.

The very next morning.

I was on the veranda, drinking morning coffee at ease while planning the day, when the phone rang loud.

"Hello."

[Hi, Jeong-su? I saw the resume Sam gave me and called.]

A woman with a fairly bright voice called.

Hm. Face to face I can catch it by sense, but on the phone the accent makes it a bit hard.

"Could you speak a little slower?"

[O~kay~. Got~ it~. To~mor~row~ at~ ten~ in~ the~ mor~ning~]

"Hey. You joking? Not that much."

[Heh heh. Sam said you were a really funny friend, and it's true. Sorry.]

What? Did Sam introduce me to a comedy club?

[Can you come for an interview today at 2 in the afternoon?]

Time was plenty.

And an interview right away.

The other side seemed urgent.

"Okay. Where do I go?"

[But can I ask just one more thing?]

"Hm? What?"

[The story on this resume, is it all true? What's written is so impressive.]

"Which part do you mean?"

[That you worked as an engineering instructor in the Korean army and got certificates.]

"Yeah, right. Korea is conscription, so you have to go to the army by duty. My university major was architecture, so I got pulled as an assistant instructor at the engineer school."

[Wow! It was real. Really impressive. First, come to Crane Australia in Wetherill Park. Tell the guard you came for an interview and he'll let you in.]

"Got it. See you later."

[Right. Bye.]

"Ah! Wait."

[Hm? What is it?]

"We didn't even introduce ourselves. What's your name?"

[Me? I'm Rosie.]

"Okay. Have a good day, Rosie."

[Haha. You have a good day too, Jeong-su.]

Hanging up, I swung a fist in the air.

Sam's connections were no joke.

Crane Australia was one of the largest third-party logistics distribution centers in Australia, distributing heavy chemical and building materials.

"Yes! A jackpot!"