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Excerpt from Tony Newton Chapter

The right hand does know…

 

From Glen Innes we proceeded to Brisbane via Tenterfield and Lismore. There I answered a newspaper ad for bulk tipper drivers. There was no name or job location, just a phone number. When I first called, from the caravan park’s public phone, a female voice announced, “Tony Newton’s office”, so now I at least knew what business I was applying to, if not the name of the person answering my call. From the grapevine I knew that Newton’s had trucks working in connection with the Wivenhoe Dam, under construction 80km west of Brisbane. I told The Voice my business and was instructed to ring back in two hours, at which time Tony Newton was expected back in the office. Two hours on the dot (punctuality impresses prospective employers!) I called back. The Voice advised I should come into the yard in the Queensland Transport Terminal (QTT), Rocklea, at 2pm the next day for an interview.

 

In 1978 the QTT was a vast area of industrial yards, unfenced, mostly unpaved, and populated with goods sheds of indeterminate age and ‘roadworthiness’. Located within a larger wood and corrugated iron shed, Newton’s premises comprised a unit about 6m deep and 9m wide. A metre inside the 4.5m‑wide, full‑height sliding door, the floor was raised 1.2m, effectively forming an integral loading bank.

 

Located at the top of the loading bank steps was Newton’s ‘operations centre’, an island of industry in the otherwise near‑empty goods shed. The large, battered, wooden desk, strewn with paperwork, was fully occupied by the fully‑occupied Voice, whose name turned out to be Kathy. Kathy was ensconced in a structurally‑handicapped swivel chair, performing well beyond its plated GCW. In front of her on the desk stood three Bakelite dial telephones: two black, one white.

 

It was a hot day, and although the door was wide open it provided scant relief from the sweltering heat within. Kathy, who was dressed in only (as far as I could see) a sleeveless drop-over smock (predominant colour red), was wringing wet with perspiration.

 

Tony Newton Bulk Tippers, it transpired, was one of several transport‑related and other enterprises domiciled at this address. Included in these was a Transport Loading Agency that I would wager was run double‑handedly by Kathy.

 

On my arrival at 2pm Kathy, between phone calls, told me to wait: Tony would be back shortly. I sat on the shaded loading bank, observing the trucks passing by outside and the frantic operations centre activity inside. As the amiable Kathy explained to me later, the two black phones were business related. Only Newton knew the number for the white one, which he would call to issue instructions for Kathy or collect messages. With so many business calls coming in she always had a receiver in hand. Regularly, during my eventual two‑and‑a‑half hour visit, Kathy would have simultaneous calls on the black phones, putting one on ‘hold’ (read: receiver deposited, out of sight and sound, deep in an armpit!) while attending to the other.

 

Even more impressively, on one epic occasion there were two callers conversing with one another, with the office star as intermediary. While she spoke into the receiver in her right hand, Kathy had the left hand receiver ‘on hold’ in her right armpit (total communications blackout) while writing notes with her left hand. Then she put RH ‘on hold’ in her left armpit while relaying developments to LH and taking notes with her right hand. Ambidextrous! The woman’s efficiency was awe‑inspiring.

 

The white phone rang at two‑thirtyish. When the white phone rang it was answered immediately. With both black phones on hold, she relayed a message from Newton to me: he was delayed, could I wait another half hour? I waited. The white phone/message scenario was repeated at three‑fifteen. I waited until four‑thirty when white phone rang yet again and after a brief exchange Kathy passed the receiver to me. I was silently thankful that, as far as I could tell, white phone had never been in the ‘on hold’ position!

 

Tony Newton was a busy man. There was no way that he could get back to the yard today to interview me, so the phone would have to do. He quizzed me on my qualifications for the job. My mechanical experience earned me some brownie points, given that his fleet was largely Mecedes‑Benz, with which I was familiar. Then he informed me that the position was at Peak Downs Mine, west of Mackay, about 1000km by road from Brisbane. The company maintained its own depot and caravan park near the mine.

 

I accepted the job, saying I would be on site the following Sunday (‘today’ being Tuesday), to start work on Monday.

 

 

End of Tony Newton Bulk Tippers Excerpt