When I was younger I remember thinking that everything was working out specifically to benefit me, sometimes something would go wrong but I could cheerily convince myself that it was actually a net beneficial experience, in the end.
At some point, quite rapidly, that delusion sunk to the reality of life just indifferently marching on by, and further to the point of thinking that everything that transpired in my life was to my detriment.
I think that downward slope really gained momentum soon after the Australian Film and Television Office announced a competition for young 3D animators. Submit your portfolio (if you're under 18) and if you are selected out of all the applicants in Australia then you 'win' a traineeship at animal logic- the largest VFX (Visual FX) post-production house in Australia.
It was a big deal back then because they'd worked on The Matrix.
I won the competition and figured it was another easy step on the road to success and so moved to Sydney, rented out a house with a friend (back when the 1 year lease was standard), showed up for my traineeship on the first day bright and early (which was a bit tough I recall because I'd just caught the flu) and was told that "No, sorry-" they weren't offering that position anymore.
I've since learned that animal logic isn’t the most employee-friendly company around, but I suppose that is how they win all the large contracts.
This was a bit of a set-back on my road to success.
I started looking for work but there was precious little available immediately- and immediately was when I needed it for the rent was already beginning to play second fiddle to the slots. I worked at a CD duplication plant for a while and probably enjoyed that more than any other job, there was no demand on the workers other than to place x amount of CD's into the CD sleeves per hour. Unfortunately management head-hunted me even there and soon had me making the cover artwork for the CD's and other such mind-numbingly dull projects.
I livened up the work day slightly by running my own counterfeit porn VCD operation for a while but had to tone that down when one of my VCD's accidentally found its way onto the packing floor and into a Wiggles promotional cereal CD sleeve. That was not my fault, I gave it to one of the other employees I talked to sometimes and he apparently thought it would be a laugh to slip it into a box of Cheerios. He didn't come back in after that but he didn't rat me out either.
That job ended one day through an act no more nefarious than eating a hamburger; I was just sitting down at my usual tuck shop and admiring how tasty my burger looked and how hungry I was when a very un-hunger-like feeling came over me...
Now I should mention here that although I was not yet gambling heavily at this point (only about 75% of my pay), I was neither an entirely happy chap. My parents had finally split up after years of quiet resentment, it was ironically no doubt for the children's sake that they'd stayed together as long as they had. My father being a Pharmacist was a huge proponent of chemical therapy and I had been on anti-depressants since I was diagnosed at the age of 16 with Major Depressive Disorder and with the recent yaw in my simple path to eternal happiness and success at the hands of animal logic I felt as if I was standing on the edge of, if not a chasm, certainly a very steep and rocky cliff face.
... but why that should all hit me right before I could even begin to eat my hamburger I do not know. All I remember was I felt feverish, unbearably weak, and began walking back to work. Apparently I collapsed on the sidewalk and vomited on myself. An ambulance took me to hospital where everything was declared Hunky-Dory-A-OK. The next day I was unceremoniously ejected from employment at... whatever the name of that place was.
Things were going off the rails but I knew I had to get some other means of income fast if I were to stay in the city and recoup the gambling losses so far which were probably only around the $5,000 mark. The alternative was going home a loser, admitting I'd lost my job and lost a whopping $5,000 to boot.
No, I told myself, I can fix this up, I just need a little good fortune and I'll be on my feet again.
The next frighteningly portentous job opportunity was for one of the major slot machine companies here in Australia and although I did get into the interview stages I did not get the job. They said I was too talented, which I suppose was on account of me providing a 30 second choreographed battle scene when they asked for a small animation of a knight swinging a sword; god knows I wouldn't want to see that every time three Kings lined up on a pokie.
Meanwhile I'd had a falling out with my ex-friend (now simply a room-mate) over some rent owed and needed a new place to stay, and so I moved into the Pub. Well, above the Pub- the Iron Duke Hotel. So now every day I could come home to the bar and the gaming room, and when I'd lost all the money and finished my last drink I just had to stumble upstairs to a room the size of your average bathroom, and speaking of bathrooms- forget about it: the resident’s bathroom (one between fourteen rooms) was permanently flooded. You would feel dirtier for having showered in there.
But I had a place to hang my hat for the time being, even if I had no hat and there was actually no room to hang anything but a metaphorical hat, it was all I needed to support my newfound habit and a bargain by Sydney standards at only $150 per week.
Eventually I found another job, by that point I was so broke I had spent the past week with a total food budget of $0.60 - I subsisted on a box of McDonald’s cookies and the complimentary sugar sachets you can find at that same restaurant.
I didn't have many friends and half the ones I had were trying to rape me.
This made more sense when, after a night spent locked in the bathroom of a friend who'd assured me we were just going back to his place for drinks, I found out that the Iron Duke was, actually, notoriously gay. My girlfriend, the third one at that point I believe, came and rescued me from his bath tub the next morning, and I will be eternally grateful to her for it.
So it was time to move again, and those of you beginning to wonder whether the title of this chapter was perhaps a metaphor will be pleased to know that it was into a basement.
And that was when things got really shitty.
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