A bloke in shorts and a uniform shirt was loading boxes from the carrier boat into a quad bike trailer.
“I don’t know when we’ll get a sparky over here to install this stuff,” the bloke said to the skipper of the carrier boat. “And our internet and phones are down till we do.”
“What’s wrong with your internet and phone?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he said. “We got a sparky who came over, told us we’d need this stuff, then took a job up in the mines before we got the stuff shipped up. He says he can’t install it now.”
“Let me take a look,” I suggested.
“The Department facilities aren’t just a fishing shack. All our electrical and communications work has to be carried out by a licensed electrician. Sorry mate.” The bloke turned away from me to climb onto his quad bike.
“I’m a licensed electrician, have been for almost ten years. I’ve been wiring up mining construction and operation camps for the last three. Electrical, communications, the works. I bet I can install it. Let me take a look. If I can’t do anything with it, you can still wait till you find some sparky on the mainland to come over.” I shrugged.
He turned to look at me. “Mate, what are you doing here if you earn that kind of money? No one leaves a mining job to be a deckie out here.”
I laughed. “I get two months off a year, and I’m on holidays. I told one of my mates I wanted to go fishing on a charter boat. He told me about this great opportunity, getting paid to go fishing as a deckie.” My expression must have said it all.
The bloke laughed. “In that case, if you want to take a look, go ahead. If you can fix our communications, give me a quote. If it’s not more than the other sparky’s quote, I’ll hire you on the spot.”
“Sure,” I replied. “I’ll head over now.”
He buzzed off on his quad bike and I trudged along the tinkling coral shingle path behind him. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, FUCK. Concrete path. I continued on, limping on what felt like two broken toes now. I hobbled up to my shack, grabbed my tools and headed back along the path.
When I’d reached the Fisheries camp, I saw the boxes were still in the trailer. I opened one up and took a look at the parts. It looks like a full reinstall. Shit, this is going to be easy. The uniformed bloke came into sight, carrying a ladder.
“There you go, sparky. Knock yourself out.” He laughed.
“My name’s Joe,” I told him. “It’ll be on the quote.”
“I’m Glen, Senior Operations Manager out here,” he replied. “If you can get our communications failure fixed, you can come over and watch the footy with us on the big camp TV whenever you want.”
“When’s the next match?” I asked. I was too embarrassed to tell him I didn’t know what day it was. The lobsters didn’t care and I didn’t have TV reception in my shack.
“Tonight. West Coast versus Richmond.” Glen smirked. “But the other sparky told me it’d take him a week to get that stuff installed. So, maybe next week, mate.”
I laughed. “Then the other bloke was a pretty shit electrician. I bet he’d never seen some of this stuff before and he told you a week because he had no idea what he was doing. I’ve spent three years installing this sort of gear. I could do it with my eyes closed. I figure I got four hours till dark. If I can get your communications working by kickoff, will you pay me whatever he quoted you?”
Glen considered for a minute. “Sure mate. Bring your own beer, though.”
A week’s pay for four hours’ work? I’ll need the beer to celebrate. I nodded and got to work.