Million dollar baby

Photo by Jeremy Paige

So building upon the previous post, you should be aware by now that I am basically a walking embarrassment. However, like the old adage, 2017 has bought out a new year, new me. And before you think I’m getting ahead of myself, this proclamation is built upon solid evidence! The story goes:

Post a very very fun 21st (on a boat might I add!) and a couple of tequila shots, my pals and I proceeded to go into a club to party on. However, in typical Melbourne club-scene style, it was a $25 entry fee. Gross as. I reluctantly passed over my hard earned cash and proceeded inside. The second I stepped in, I felt regret. All I could think about was being in bed, in my pj’s instead of being sardine squashed under an ambient red light. Not even Rihanna’s ‘Work’ could get me going – that’s when you know you’re not feeling it. I was SO ready for bed.

Where I desperately wanted to be –

But. I was unhappy with the $25 entry fee. So I argued with the bouncer for a refund, which went on for quite some time. The girl tried to accuse us of being in there for an hour, to which I angrily retorted ‘NO WE WERE ONLY IN THERE FOR 4 MINUTES!’ (not sure where the 4 mins came from, maybe I was channeling a bit of JT/Madonna?) The multiple bouncers just kept refusing, to which I just stood there and said ‘I cannot accept that.’ I even wanted to bring out the Australian Consumer Law because apparently when inebriated I am a pretentious #lawstudent. But I was quite unsure as to how my rights to enter a club would be protected under the ACL, so for fear of looking foolish I omitted it from my closing statement.

Fight me –

After continuous bantering back and forth, I got given $20!!!!!!!!!!!!! What a win! It only occurred to me afterwards the ridiculousness of what I’d done. Who on earth gets a refund from club entry? I don’t even know why I was so adamant on wanting a refund, but trust me, I was hell-bound on NOT leaving empty handed.

Moya: 1, Melbourne clubs: 0.

The night however, was far from over.

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Plz keep reading!!! –

We called an Uber and after some struggling and squinting, we finally found our way to Manuel. In the meanwhile, I am clutching my $20 in my hot little hand like there is no tomorrow. We get in the car, and realise that we are quite peckish. Maccas. MACCAS WOULD GO DOWN SO WELL RIGHT NOW.

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Yes Olive, I feel you –

Also, now would be a good time to introduce an important side note. About 3/5th’s through the night, I became British. And not just a light British accent, a real, full blown, British accent. It was like I became possessed by Queen Elizabeth II herself because I couldn’t un-British-fy myself. I was stuck in this accent.

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It was like I suffered from a verbal cramp –

So, whilst deciding to go to Maccas, we thought it’ll be fun to hit up another one of our pals to join us on our Maccas escapades. We called him, and alas, he does not answer. We go straight to voicemail and Margaret Thatcher arose from the dead and said: ‘Ello. Myself and fellow guvnor’s are going to Maccas!!!!’

GUVNORS? Moya! Are you 78?! What is wrong with you? Unfortunately I only realised how mortifying this voicemail was when the said recipient reminded me of this the following morning.

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Why am I like this –

Upon reflection, I have decided that the British accent was a result of:

a) a co-worker being British and working with her has rubbed off on me
b) I have watched a ridiculously excessive amount of Zoella videos on Youtube and I think I adopted her actual accent when drunk
c) a good friend goes British when drunk also and she’s a great influence on my life.

Otherwise, I am highly confused as to why this ABC (Australian Born Chinese) went full blown British after a few beers.

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I blame your cuteness Zoella, I can’t stop watching your vids!!! –

When we arrived at our destination (not Maccas, we decided against that), to our absolute shock horror, the Uber cost us $73, when it was only calculated to cost $39 at most. This was an absolute travesty! I was outraged. And obviously since I was already one-up with my club refund, I was SO ready to argue this.

Aggressively typing out an email to Uber, I told them the $73 was ‘excessive’ and ‘grossly exorbitant’. Section 18 of the Australian Consumer Law may have also weaseled its way into there, whereby I accused Uber of misleading or deceptive conduct because I am a colossal pain in the a-hole and threatened them with legal action. #urwelc

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Whilst we waited for Uber to get back to us, Jamie Oliver himself cooked us ham and cheese toasties. But it wasn’t even real cheese, we had to improvise with parmesan because he was planning to make fettucine and parmesan was all we had. First world problems.

My trusty chauffeur (shoutout to Dad,the real mvp always) had arrived soon after this, and by the time we got home, I received the best news yet.

UBER HAD REFUNDED US PART OF OUR TRIP!!! This was incredible. 2 refunds, 1 night. 2 birds smashed. Please trust me when I say this, but I rarely ask for refunds or complain. I work in retail, I know how incredibly annoying and painful those customers are. But I was on a roll. I was a champion. Look at me, I am the captain now.

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Yes –

So, I saved us a grand total of $45 dollars. What an absolute win for the little guy. Me, I am the little guy.

If you ever feel unjustly done by, let me know.
Signing off,
Erin Brockovich, Million Dollar Baby, Justice League Moy


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