Yet another rant about the Sydney Opera House / Everest fiasco

Years ago, I arrived at work to be informed by an email from my regional manager that my colleague and close work friend was off sick and would be for a few days. I knew something serious was up because he hadn’t called or text me himself or sent through any client emails that needed attention, as he usually would. In fact, he was completely offline for days. This was a man who would take his laptop to Fiji so he could still look after his clients. Something was really up. 

After a week, our regional manager called a meeting. My colleague, we’ll call him Bob, was not coming back. “Like, ever coming back?”, I asked, with all the innocence of a 23 year old who couldn’t read the gravity of the situation. Someone else clarified that he wasn’t dead, he just wasn’t coming back. They couldn’t tell us why and we were told not to try to contact him. What followed was the worst two months of my career. 

Immediately after the meeting, my bosses desk was searched and an archive box of items taken away. Next, the rumours started. The worst of which was that he had sexually assaulted me and was sacked. I found out the truth by accident. The dutiful assistant I was, I checked every email he was sent to see what needed my action. The Sportsbet statement with close to two million dollars gambled through it in a matter of days didn’t need my attention, but the sinking feeling I got when I opened it is still as real now as it was then. Months later we were told by management some scant details of what had happened. He had a gambling problem, he’d committed fraud, he’d turned himself in. He was going to prison, he'd never work in finance again, his wife had left him. 

The next few months were incredibly emotionally draining, and I'm still not convinced I'm over it, six years later. First, I had pushed Bob into the promotion that had turned his small time gambling into a big time problem that led him to commit fraud. Second, I had ignored his obvious signs of stress and reassured him he was doing fine when he confided in me that he wasn’t coping. Third, I resented someone with an illness for ruining my holiday, tarnishing my name with gossip and putting me through months of stress as I stepped up and took over his role. Finally, I felt betrayed, his fraud had been happening the entire time we'd worked together, and my integrity was questioned for not noticing. I blamed myself for years, and eschewed anything to do with gambling. I never heard from Bob again, even after he was released from prison, and that probably hurts the most.

My current boss, and every colleague who sits in a five desk radius of me is either a race horse owner, horse racing enthusiast or just general obnoxious punter. Money is put on everything from colleagues horses, to Bachelorette’s, to who can do the most Fitbit steps in a day. Talk isn’t of who has the best team, or the greatest skill in sport, but who the odds favour. Political drama is the same, no one cares who might be PM, just that the odds currently back the Bish and so we should all agree. The odds are never wrong.

Today, I got in an argument with one of these colleagues who was loudly proclaiming that anyone who protests at the Opera House tonight is a pussy. I’ll admit, I started the argument because I believe everyone has a right to protest, and should do so for things they are passionate about. I don’t really give a crap about them projecting advertising on the Opera House, but I do give a crap about the content and the conversation that should be started about gambling behaviour in Australia. Taking that position in my office is dangerous. I was immediately on the defensive against several senior leaders who harped on about $100m for the local economy (who even knows how that’s calculated?), 92% occupancy for Sydney hotels (um, hello it’s school holidays and that’s pretty standard) and the fact that the Opera House was also used for Wallabies advertising (thank you, that's my point exactly, it's not OK).

I don’t like sports that much to begin with. Of all the sports, I like horse and greyhound racing the least. Don’t get me started on the animal cruelty part, but a sport that is preferred for it’s punting is not really any sport. Show me how many people go because of the athletic prowess of jockeys and maybe I’ll change my mind. What happened to Bob happens to hundreds of Australians every day, and it’s not OK that we continue to foster this environment. It's not OK that several of my colleagues have turned into gambling enthusiasts over the past few months in an effort to fit in. It's not OK that more time is spent in our office secretly checking odds and exchanging tips than working. I hate gambling, and it should be my right to hate everything related to it, and say so without being attacked in my work place for having a different opinion. Just like it should be the right of Australians to say when they don't think something is OK.