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[Life] 1989 Australia Job Seeking JourneyAuthor: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU Time: 2025-7-14 Monday, 6:37 AM ········································ [Life] 1989 Australia Job Seeking Journey In 1989, I had just arrived in Melbourne, Australia. At that time, I carried with me the half-year tuition and living expenses that my parents had saved up through frugality, along with a head full of responsibilities and pressures. Alone, I stepped onto foreign soil. It seemed like going abroad for further studies, but in reality, it was starting from scratch to survive. In the few days after I got off the plane, I couldn't utter a complete sentence in English, and I didn't even know how many coins to put in for the bus fare. I could only clutch a few Australian coins of different denominations in my palm, my hand sweating and my heart racing. Someone told me "dollar ninety-five," but I couldn't understand at all; I just watched the driver wave his hand impatiently and could only take out a fifty-dollar bill. He took it without saying a word, and I knew that I had probably overpaid again. Life cannot rely on consumption; one must find a job. My English level is only sufficient to understand textbooks, but I cannot communicate normally with others. The most basic question is: "Where is the job?" At that time, I couldn't even say it smoothly. Thus began the process of job hunting. I chose the dumbest, most primitive, but also the most direct method: walking along the railway line, getting off at each station to look for work. Starting from the Southeast District, I carried my self-written English resume and an old backpack, walking along the streets next to the stations. I went into small shops, restaurants, car dealerships, and car washes one by one, mustering the courage to ask, "Any job?" or "Need help?" Almost every week, I change to a new pair of shoes, which are sneakers. The thick-soled shoes are more wear-resistant, but even so, I can wear out a pair within a week. I leave early and return late every day, sometimes walking more than ten kilometers in a day, or even more. When I get back to my place, my feet are blistered, my toenails are red, and there have been a few times when my socks were worn through and stuck to the wounds. Language barriers, cultural differences, and lack of experience have all become stumbling blocks in my progress. Many shopkeepers ignored me completely, and I could only silently nod and leave, moving on. Many times, I didn't even know which direction to go next, but I held onto one belief: I cannot give up, because I must find a job as soon as possible and start paying off my debts. Yes, my parents supported my study abroad with borrowed money. Relatives and friends contributed, and some even sold valuable items. That money is not a scholarship, nor is it sponsorship; it is debt! With this burden of debt, I cannot afford to be slack. Whenever the soles of my shoes wear out, I endure the pain and continue walking down the next street. I never thought about relying on others for support, nor am I used to asking for help. The only time a friend introduced me to a European couple's restaurant to help out, the hourly wage was 2 Australian dollars—yes, just two dollars! Ten hours a week meant a weekly pay of only 20 dollars, with two meals included, but it was not stable. Life was already tight, and I didn't want to keep depending on others. Finding a real job on my own two feet was my only goal at that time. A pair of shoes would wear out, and I would replace them with a new pair. That winter, Melbourne experienced all four seasons in a single day, with rain and cold. I often walked on the damp and chilly streets, my pant legs soaked and the shoe surfaces muddy. By the time I reached the last stop to go home, I would find that the soles of my feet were already bleeding, and even one day, the twelfth pair of shoes I had just put on began to crack. I clearly remember that the day the twelfth pair of shoes broke was a Saturday. I walked from South Yarra along the railway to the outskirts of Dandenong, where the shops were sparse, the industrial area was remote, and there were few people around. I walked for more than three hours in the wind, with no place to ask for help. That day, I sat on a bench at the station, watching the sole of that pair of shoes curl up, feeling a shiver run through me. But even so, I still stood up, gritted my teeth, and continued walking, because I knew that as long as I hadn't found a job, I had no right to stop. Later, I finally found a physical job in operations. The pay was not high, but it was stable. This job gradually alleviated my survival pressure, and most importantly, I finally started to have the ability to send money back home. Not to show off, nor to repay my parents, but to quickly pay off the loans I took out to go abroad, one by one. To this day, I still remember that last pair of worn-out shoes in my mind. The soles had completely cracked, and the edges were frayed, yet they were a testament to a life lived. They were not ordinary shoes, but a real life measured by my feet in a foreign land. Looking back, that year I understood nothing, had nothing, only responsibility, stubbornness, and pairs of shoes. Others called it studying abroad, but I preferred to say it was a trial that began barefoot. This is my "Job-Seeking Journey in Australia" from 1989. That winter, I walked out the starting point of an era with my feet. If you think this story is too exaggerated, that's okay, you can also go to Melbourne and walk along the railway for three months to verify it for yourself! Source: https://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=696857 |
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