Bob, one of Life's Losers 1, New Zealand Farm Life

Well I run against an old acquaintance yesterday, one of life’s losers. I called into a pub and low and behold there was Bob.

Bob is actually a hell of a good bloke, a great worker, but he never seemed to sort out what is right and what is wrong.

I’ve known Bob for 30 odd years; I worked on the same station way back. I was shepherding and bob was the house-about. He was capable, could do a lot of things and was very good company. He’d been nearly everywhere and had spend a fair amount of time at Her Majesty’s Hotels.

Not his fault mind you – oh hell no. These fools that leave their keys in their cars, don’t go through their mail in their mailboxes (quite a good sideline according to Bob), shops that give credit (only fools do that), get a taxi from a town a fair way away and when you arrive at your destination find you are ‘short’ and have to go to the nearest toilet, most have a back way out somewhere. If you are smart, you catch another taxi to another town while the other poor blighter is waiting. Not so easy now according to Bob, those dammed radio telephones a real invasion on people’s privacy. Shouldn’t be allowed!

But we are transgressing, Bob has just come out and is short of a few bob.

“Gidday me old mate. Hell I’m pleased to see you, haven’t seen you for a long time”.

The last time incidentally was at the Stan Hotel in Kikikihi, he’d only just come out of Waikenia.

Well I must admit I was pleased to see Bob again too, outside. I’d got to know the workings of most of our NZ jails by visiting Bob. He is such a likeable devil, always cheerful – the eternal optimist.

“How long have you been out,” was my question.

“How did you know I’d been in again?” was his answer.

“Well where the hell else would you have been!”

“God dammit mate, you’d make a man feel like a real lag talking like that, I’m straight most of the time except when things don’t go my way”.

I knew I was in for a fairly hefty session, I’d been caught before!

“Look, I’d like to shout but I only have enough for a jug, will you share one with me?”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure.” That was the understatement of the year.

So I got a jug and two glasses, put my wallet down inside my pants leg when he wasn’t watching and we got talking.

Yes he’d been in Waikaia again, not the same as it used to be, these crims today, my God mate, you can’t trust any of them. Not like you and I, we could always trust each other. The fact that I’d eluded the law never came into it ... we were trustworthy. The wallet down in my leg pants was getting heavy with my guilt.

Oh it was just a little thing this time. Bob was working for a cockie, worked damn hard too which I didn’t doubt. He was a worker. Babysat for them at night. Three months he worked there straight, not a day off. “Well I had nowhere to go except the pub and you know me”.

I didn’t as it happened. I could only imagine.

“Well this young bloke we had over to help with the calving, fixed all the fences the first time they’d been fixed since they’d been there according to Bob and the farmer was having a bit of time off, his wife played a lot of golf.

Bob was busy finishing off the road fence one day and a bloke drove up in a ute and wanted to know if there were any calves for sale.

“Well as a matter of fact there was, he’d be pleased to get rid of them because the calf truck was always late. Give me a price after a look. $60 – a bit light mate, how about $65 each for all six. Damned good calves, no scours and all at least five days old. No, no cheques mate. I don’t know you from a bar of soap, hell you could get these calves, bugger off and never see you again”.

“$390, yeah well I’ve got $10 change. Ok, you’ve got a real good deal. Keep your mouth shut about this, otherwise you won’t get any more. Call again in a fortnight”.

“Well what happened then” I asked.

“Well mate you wouldn’t believe it, a strong wind blew up and when the cockie went to the calf pen to get the paper with the weights on it, it wasn’t there which didn’t surprise him”.

He pushed his glass over to get another beer and said he had to go and have a leak. I was damned intrigued. After about ten minutes Bob came back, pushed a $10 over and shouted “2 jugs”, I felt really mean. He’d met an old mate in the back room that owed him a favour.

He got onto talking about other things, different ones owed him this and others owed him that. I was getting pretty uncomfortable, I was wondering what I owed him. So to change I asked him about the calves.

Well you know what the damned scallywag did who bought them calves. He skited about how cheap he’d got them and his wife played golf with the bosses wife!