Smart decision to boost our tourism
AS the old adage goes, “If you build it, they will come.”
The Territory Government are evidently wagering this will be the case with a planned 300m cliffside boardwalk for Nitmiluk Gorge.
The structure will make up a major slice of $20 million to be devoted to tourism adventure projects to be announced in the upcoming Budget on May 24.
One can see why any government would jump at the chance to back such a proposal.
It ticks all the right boxes — enhancing the lucrative NT tourism sector, creating jobs, promoting indigenous industry.
While interstate and overseas tourists will no doubt see the so-called “Skywalk” as a drawcard to go to the region, it also has the potential to entice travellers from the Territory to visit Katherine.
Territorians who may have had the gorge on their bucket list could soon have another reason to choose to go soon, or make a return visit to check it out.
The NT’s natural wonders are the jewel in an already glowing crown, so it’s a stand-up plan to find a good-looking case to hold them in. IF there’s one thing I hate more than picking lint off a black top it’s a snarky note.
Nothing says ‘ I’m a cowardly dickhead’ quite like a piece of snarky prose.
And this week I was reminded that nobody does snarky notes better than a body corporate.
Here’s a legal- ish definition of what a body corporate is: Body corporates are formed by the owners of a piece of land that is subdivided into flats, units or apartments to manage, and maintain the common areas everyone uses like the stairwell, carpark, or pool.
Here’s what a body corporate is for any chump unlucky enough to rent one of said units: Judge, jury and executioner of how you carry out your life. Kinda like Big Brother but with less bunny ears and no Gretel Kileen.
I’ll never forget the first time I was on the end of a snarky note penned by an outraged group of unit owners.
My friend and I had not long moved to what we were led to believe, was a lovely, friendly unit complex.
It was only the second place I had ever rented and the first time I’d ever lived in a unit.
We were young and pretty ordinary at being adults so doing the basic things required to run a household was bridge too far back then.
We understood getting the electricity connected was pretty important to run our hair straighteners but all we needed gas for was our hot water — everything else was electric so it wasn’t until winter came round a few months later that the lack of hot water became a problem. But not for long.
Instead of making the fiveminute to call to get the gas connected, we started using the communal shower in the pool area. Problem. Solved.
This went on for a week or so until our new walk-downto-the-pool-area-in-our-pyjamas-and-wash routine was interrupted. There, crudely stuck on the door of the shower, was the snarkiest of notes.
It read something/exactly like this:
“It has been brought to our attention that there are certain residents in this unit complex who are using this shower on a daily basis, without swimming in the pool. This will not be tolerated. This shower is to be used before and after a visit to the pool only. It should not be used in place of your own bathroom. If this continues action will be taken. Regards, Body Corporate.” Reasonably, we took the “action will be taken” line as a threat against our lives.
It was obvious this was the work of a true psychopath — the author was upset we were showering in a shower — sheer lunacy.
I could understand if we were taking body wash and a razor into the pool to shave our legs but why would someone get upset about a shower being used for its purpose?
It’s a question I never got an answer to but that was the start of a long, unhealthy relationship between us.
I would do something, usually pretty innocuous but often obnoxious, and in return would receive a note denouncing whatever it was that I had done that week.
The notes were always posted in the “common area” so everyone in the complex could enjoy the body corporate really sticking it to us.
My legacy at the Langler Drew apartment block in Brisbane is a neat little CCTV camera system at the front gate.
They were installed so body corporate had evidence it was me sticking a phonebook in the gate to prop it open be- cause I’d lost my gate key again.
Apparently they wanted to prosecute me to the full extent of their powers … which, as I loved to point out in my snarky response notes, doesn’t actually extend as far as they think.
But petty complaints aside I don’t actually have a problem with being chastised for being a thoughtless wanker but what I absolutely can’t stand is a passive aggressive note stuck up in the dead of the night signed by a faceless, anonymous entity.
Body corporates know what you eat for breakfast and what time you usually go to bed so they definitely know which door is yours to knock on if there’s a problem so what’s wrong with a good old fashioned conversation?
It’s the equivalent of being at work, less than two metres from someone, when they send you an email. Since then I’ve spent the last 10 years avoiding living in any dwelling that had a body corporate attached … until now.
The first few weeks in our new unit were blissful. But it didn’t take long for us to piss off the leaders. Here’s how we did it. We hired removalists to get some of the big stuff upstairs but despite their best effort, they were unable to get the couch upstairs and so left in the “common area” — the common area is what the lay person would call carpark.
The owner of the couch wasn’t sure what to do — if two giant men couldn’t lift it up the stairs then maybe he would have to sell it. In fairness to the leaders, this decision did take in excess of two weeks. He had just decided he would keep the couch and had enlisted the help of 46 mates to come around and get the monstrosity up the four flights of
Nothing says ‘I’m a cowardly dickhead’ quite like a piece of snarky prose. And this week I was reminded that nobody does snarky notes better than a body corporate