I liked today, I really did, it was a nice day, the kind of day where you actually are conned that you are enjoying your job and your life. I won't recount how exactly that happened, but a desperate attempt to make a connection between my job and my dream job in a conversation in another endless meeting was so desperate, you had to admire my boss for trying. It was kind of sweet and endearing.
What wasn't sweet and endearing was that when I went for my daily stalk and walk, and couldn't find her, I unintentionally stumbled into a meeting of all the things that make a Tassie "Mogan" really stand out. Now, I should define what a Mogan is - a bogan with money. It hasn't really caught on as a term like perhaps the person who came up with it would have liked (and neither did "Cubs" as a term for cashed up bogans), but the Tassie Mogan can smell a sale from a mile off - when we say a bogan with money down here, we don't mean it in a Shane Warne sense where the money is plentiful and they are buying luxury cars and ruining them with go faster stripes, we're talking about a bogan with a tax refund or too much cash from being overpaid. And since it's tax refund time, it's time for a mogan treat, a little luxury. Down here, the Mogans are equally obsessed with thrift and making every penny count while it lasts and when the tax/MBF cheque comes, they party like it's seven dole days at once. Today in a certain chain store, it was a toy sale, a massive, get the banners out and extend the opening hours toy sale, and I couldn't move in a different chain store for prams and lustily stroked tax cheques being offered at the lay-by counter. It was definitely an interesting day - one woman was actually haggling on the price of a Nintendo Wii, trying to get something off for cash, while her belly hung over her jeans like the dome on her body temple. She had a Finlay wresting figure that she was balancing on her arm, which I'm sure the Fighting Irishman greatly appreciated.
Much as I might be worried about it, I think blue eye shadow girl has a touch of the Mogan about her. In certain lights. I would think wearing blue eye shadow is probably a mogan trait. I do know where the mogans go to drink in Hobart when they are cashed up - the Customs House Hotel. The reason I know this is because in the last two years our local cricket team, mogans to a man, have gone to the Customs House to celebrate winning trophies. They are generally photographed their in a fantastic mash up of hangovers, expensive sunglasses and slightly offensive T-shirts. It really is a quintessential mogan venue, since it has a wonderful facade of credibility - it's heritage listed, it has a maritime history and tradition, and it has a lovely seafood restaurant. And yet, upstairs - poker machines and very cheap Cascade beer and a lot of girls who seem to go upstairs to kick off their heels cos their feet "are fuckin' killen em!". What more could a mogan want?
My favourite mogan though was an un-named Cooee Bulldogs Australian Rules football player from when I lived in Burnie. Due to his connections, he had a rather cushy job in a legal firm that required him to turn up, meet and greet clients, regail them with funny stories, and generally be a local celebrity. This job paid very well, and he had a great living. He had a lovely car, and a nice house, a lovely family and seemingly was the pillar of respectability. But he couldn't shake his bogan tendencies. He was incredibly dense, he had a bad habit of calling people in his funny stories "cunts" and then apologizing a lot for "fucking swearing". However, that was nothing - he eventually had to leave the club, the town and his job allegedly because he slept with an underage girl who he met while they were both at the local chapter of the AC/DC fan club. What really killed him though was his wife found it, then told everyone it was actually a male he slept with, and that his favourite band was now Duran Duran.
Really, what self respecting mulleted, bigotted, black T-shirt wearing mogan could cope with that shame?