Last week I wrote about moving to Darwin for three years and then to Canberra with my husband’s job. Today I am going to continue the story from there.
92. Real Estate Agent
When we relocated to Canberra, my older daughter was in Year 2, and my younger one was ready for preschool. This transition afforded me five kid-free hours in the mornings. Armed with a recently completed office technology diploma, I was eager to secure part-time work. I embarked on my usual job-hunting routine, this time targeting the retail sector. But my efforts met with frustration as no fashion or jewellery store was willing to hire me. Some said I was over-qualification, while others pointed to my lack of experience.
One day, while perusing the local paper, I stumbled upon an ad from a real estate agent. Operating a small agency conveniently close to my home, this aging agent needed assistance with various tasks. Upon meeting him, he offered me the position on the spot. But there was no salary. My role was conducting property tours on weekdays and opening houses for viewing on weekends. If I managed to facilitate a sale or list a new property (under his license of course), he agreed to split the commission with me.
Fascinated by the housing industry, I saw this opportunity as a gateway to mastering the art of selling homes. I envisioned the possibility of obtaining my own license one day and making millions. So, I dedicated myself to the role for six months, sacrificing weekends, engaging in door-to-door canvassing, and using my own vehicle and fuel to showcase properties. Despite my relentless efforts, I didn’t make a single sale.
In addition to my lack of sales experience, another significant factor hindered my success. We were grappling with the effects of the worst recession, marking the first and only time the housing prices plummeting in Canberra. A number of properties were not selling, exacerbating the challenges of closing deals.
However, amidst the adversity, I gleaned invaluable insights into the real estate market. My employer maintained a meticulously handwritten database for nearly every property within his purview. In an era preceding widespread computerization, this resource was a treasure trove of information, allowing me to ascertain past sale prices and determine fair market values. This knowledge proved instrumental when we purchased our first home in Canberra.
93. Our Canberra Home
While I was employed by the real estate agent we were simultaneously on the lookout for a new home. During this time, we stumbled upon a house that captured our hearts. However, there was a significant obstacle: it far exceeded our budget. When we went to view the house it had been on the market for several weeks with little interest. When the real estate agent started talking to us we expressed our admiration but explained our inability to afford it.
Her response was unexpected. "Well, make me an offer," she suggested. Initially skeptical, my husband quipped, "It's absurd, we can't possibly buy it." Undeterred, she urged, "Make me a ridiculous offer." Taking her words with a grain of humor, my husband jestingly proposed a figure well below the asking price but the maximum we could stretch our budget. “Let me take it to the owner,” she said. We laughed.
To our astonishment, the following day brought news of our offer's acceptance. The seller, a doctor who had relocated to Melbourne and purchased another property, urgently required funds to settle his new home. Thus, we found ourselves the proud owners of our dream residence at a dream price.
For the next five years, this house became our sanctuary, marking the longest period we had stayed in a house in Australia. The house had stunning views of Mount Taylor. With its split-level layout, the home offered distinct zones: a ground-level garage and rumpus room, a living area, kitchen, and dining room on another tier, and bedrooms a few steps above the living space. A drawing room graced the opposite side, elevated by five steps from the entryway. Adding to its allure was a spa, a luxury we never imagined having. I adorned it with curtains and cultivated a charming rose garden in the front, while my children cherished their individual bedrooms.
94. Pathology Lab
The following year, with my younger daughter now attending school full-time, I was desperate to get work. Determined to secure a position, I ventured into the Canberra Hospital's Biochemistry Department, hoping for an opportunity. Given my background in testing blood, I felt well-suited for the role. But there was no opening there. However, the friendly staff there informed me of openings in the pathology lab, responsible for collecting blood samples. To my relief, they expressed a need for part-time staff and promptly offered me a position.
The pathology lab was conveniently situated directly opposite my daughter's primary school. I could easily drop off them at school and go to work. In the afternoon I would finish work and straightaway pick them up—a seamless arrangement. Yet, despite the convenience, the work itself was monotonous and uninspiring. I was tasked primarily with labeling blood samples and dispatching them to various laboratories for testing. Occasionally I would venture into hospital wards to collect samples or deliver blood bottles.
The environment, devoid of any scientific discourse or intellectual stimulation, left me feeling unfulfilled and unhappy. The staff, while competent in their roles, lacked the passion and curiosity I had grown accustomed to working in scientific research. It became evident that I wouldn’t last there for long.
95. Job Application
My greatest challenge in seeking employment was my struggle with crafting job applications. Canberra, being a hub for public service, had a requirement for lengthy applications spanning five to six pages, addressing specific selection criteria and detailing one's knowledge and experiences. I concluded, if I was to get a job and to win any future promotions, I had to master the art of writing job applications.
My writing skills were poor to say the least. I decided to confront this deficiency head-on, and embarked on a mission to improve. One weekend, I went to the public library, and checked out every resume writing book I could lay my hands on. Over the course of next three days, I sprawled across the floor of our sparsely furnished new home, meticulously combing through those books looking for relevant keywords that applied to my knowledge and experience. Then I weaved them into sentences addressing typical selection criteria. Through sheer perseverance and determination, I cobbled together a five-page job application—for a position that didn't even exist.
I didn’t let the lack of a formal vacancy deter me. I recalled reading an advice from one of the job hunting books, to take your application directly to the workplace and hand-deliver it to a manager or person of authority. I printed five copies of my application and visited the Therapeutic Goods Administration agency, akin to the FDA in America. There, at the reception desk and requested to meet with managers from various departments, including Biochemistry, Pathology, Pharmacology, Microbiology, and Immunobiology. Three managers were unavailable, one told me he didn’t have anything available but took me for a tour of his section anyway.
But the true payoff of my efforts came when one manager read my application right there at the reception and said, "This is one of best-written application I have ever read." He then inquired about my ability to handle laboratory animals. His research assistant was due for leave and he could give me his role temporarily. If there was one thing I couldn’t do, it was handle animals. So, I politely declined.
96. Wrong Profession
Shortly thereafter, while still employed at the pathology lab, I came across a real job opportunity at Therapeutic Goods Administration. A Biochemistry research assistant position was advertised in the newspaper. I promptly submitted my application and was subsequently invited for an interview. Despite feeling confident about my performance during the interview, I was not offered the position.
One of the interviewers was from the Canberra Hospital. I sought feedback from him over my performance and advice on what to do to improve my chances next time. He candidly shared that the competition was fierce, with a staggering 57 applicants, many of whom held PhDs. While he personally believed I did well at the interview, the role ultimately went to someone already serving in an acting capacity. Still I was rated as one of top five candidates.
This experience served as a sobering realization for me, the field I had devoted myself to was not the right field to secure a job. Biochemistry research sector in Australia lacked the financial resources necessary to present a viable career path.
I had to look elsewhere.
97. Information Technology
Not long after, while perusing the newspaper, I couldn't help but notice the Employment section brimming with information technology job opportunities. It dawned on me that future was in IT.
Determined to pivot towards a more promising field, I resolved to return to university and study IT. This epiphany struck me in January, just in time when the new session starts in university. I reached out to Canberra University to inquire about enrolling in an IT course and spoke with the professor overseeing admissions.
She informed me that I had missed the enrolment window, which typically opens in October of the previous year. Moreover, the introductory lectures for mature-aged students like myself had just concluded. The professor suggested that I wait until the following year. I adamantly refused. I told her I wasn’t going to wait for a year just to get admission in the course and then another two years to do the course before I could apply for the job.
The professor, who is one of the best professor I ever had the good fortune to learn from, handed me a book on C++ programming and issued a challenge - complete the first 6 chapters independently at home. If I could demonstrate comprehension, I would be welcome to join the classes starting the following week.
The text book was 500 pages thick and I knew nothing about programming. The first 6 chapters were more than 170 pages. I realised to meet the challenge I had to finish one chapter a day. I hadn’t studied for 15 years. But I was determined to meet the challenge. Between the job, kids, cooking, house work and social commitments I had just a few hours at night to study.
I figured the only way to do that was with a timer. So, I gave myself 5 minutes to read a page regardless of whether I understood it or not. The strategy worked, I went through first five chapters and pretty much understood them. But then I stalled.
The chapter 6 was the longest and hardest. No matter how many times I read it I couldn’t comprehend. Panicked I rang Professor Jo. She asked me which chapter I was on. I told her chapter 6. She said, “I only needed you to read up to chapter 5. I will cover the chapter 6 in the class. Come join the course from Monday, I think you will do just fine.”
And I did.
My logical brain took to programming like fish to water. Initially, programming was hard but Professor Jo said, “Keep at it, and soon your mind will start thinking like computer. When that happens programming will be automatic.”
And she was right.
98. Job Offers
The Graduate Diploma in Computer Sciences offered a flexible choice between a one-year full-time program or a two-year part-time option. I opted for the latter as it allowed me to continue working at the pathology lab which helped me pay the tuition fees. However, my temporary position at the lab concluded abruptly after nine months, leaving me only halfway through my degree. So, I decided to start applying for IT jobs, both the public and private sectors.
To my astonishment, I got interview calls for nearly every position I applied for. Within a matter of weeks, I landed five job offers, four from the public sector and one from BHP IT, a subsidiary of BHP, an iconic mining company of Australia .
I accepted the position with BHP IT—a decision informed by the common understanding that it is easier to transition from private to public employment than the other way around. My new role proved to be a dream job. I was working with a team of esteemed IT project managers tasked with securing IT contracts in the public sector. Although my responsibilities primarily revolved around maintaining IT infrastructure at a ground level, the environment was vibrant and nurturing, fostering significant personal and professional growth.
The company fostered a culture of camaraderie through various team-building exercises, and my direct manager, who had been instrumental in my hiring, took a keen interest in mentoring me. Recognizing my determination and tenacity, he imparted invaluable lesson on navigating a male-dominated industry.
During one memorable conversation he told me, my success in IT will lie in building and maintaining relationship with other IT engineers who I could ring at any hour of the night to help me troubleshoot infrastructure problems.
He proposed to spend a month in Wollongong, where the company's main IT hub was located, collaborating with the primary IT team. It was a big ask as I had two young kids at home. But I was able to negotiate that I will drive there every Monday morning and come back to Canberra every Friday evening. I had never driven on freeways before. The three-and-a-half-hour drive each way not only provided an opportunity to drive on freeways, which I absolutely loved, but also gave me an enhanced sense of freedom and autonomy.
99. Losing Two Jobs
I completed my degree while simultaneously holding down the job. Not only that I enhanced my credentials by obtaining Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer certification through self-directed study and exam preparation. As the new millennium approached, I was entrusted with applying Y2K patches across all our offices in Canberra—an endeavor that should have left me content. However, I harbored a different ambition: to transition from an IT infrastructure role to that of a software developer.
I didn’t have to wait for long. Centrelink—the Australian social security department—was transitioning away from mainframe systems and seeking contractors to develop server-based programs. I applied and immediately secured a six-month contract, with a significantly higher salary. So, I resigned from my previous position. This started a chain of events.
My senior manager to invite me for an "exit interview" to understand my decision to leave a permanent role with ample training and advancement prospects for a short-term contract position. His probing questions gave me pause, prompting me to reconsider my decision. So, I contacted Centrelink to retract my acceptance. Then I informed my boss that I wasn’t leaving.
I learned that my position was already eliminated, and Centrelink had offered the new role to someone else. I lost two jobs in a single day due to my own stupidity. The humiliation, embarrassment, and fear I experienced in that moment were unparalleled, leaving me utterly shaken. To calm me down, I took the pen and pad and started pouring down every thought that was going through my mind. I had never written a diary to that point. I didn’t even know what a stream-of-consciousness writing was. But on that day, writing saved me. After filling five pages, I calmed down. I didn’t care what would happen. What was done was done.
To my surprise, the following day brought a glimmer of hope. My hiring agent contacted me, revealing that she had convinced Centrelink to reconsider. Centrelink leadership perceived my actions as a mere lapse in judgment and threw me a lifeline.
I got my job back and discovered writing.
Universe works in mysterious ways.
100. First Diary Entry
One summer morning, I awoke with an inexplicable sense of contentment. It felt as though I had finally reached the point in life where I wanted to be during all my struggles. I held a well-paying intellectually stimulating job, residing in my dream home with my loving husband and two wonderful daughters. In that moment, I realized that I possessed everything I desired upto that point in my life and more.
During my early days in Australia, I often posed a question to long-time migrants: "Are you prepared to die here?" For me, the notion of belonging to a place so deeply that one would choose it as their final resting ground held profound significance. At the time, I struggled to comprehend those who responded in affirmative. On that particular day, it dawned on me that I could die in this country. Australia had become my home. I had completed a journey of self-discovery and arrived at a point of profound belonging.
Moved by this realization, I reached for a new notebook from my stationary drawer and, at the age of forty, made my first diary entry.
Dear Diary,
As all things must eventually reach an end. This feels like a good place to end this memoir. Three months back, I started it with writing about my diary, journals, letters and pens. I managed to circle it back at the inception of my writing life.
From next week, I will start a new book (which I will reveal in the next week’s post). I can’t tell you how happy and content I feel having finished this memoir. There might be more in future, but for now, I am eager to explore new endeavors.
I extend my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you for taking the time to read my stories and leaving behind your encouraging notes. Your support and encouragement have been instrumental in keeping me motivated. I am deeply grateful for your friendship and love. Thank you.
That’s all from me this week.
See you next week.
Bravo Neera, you have succeeded in entertaining and enlightening us through the years of your life, and I know there is much more to come. Looking forward to catching up on this site next week. 🤗
Thank you for sharing your stories, Neera!