I’ve got a bit of a love/hate relationship with the summer Parliament holidays. I love them because you don’t have to work and you can sleep in as late as you want and you can sit in front of the TV in morning in your jim jams eating Coco Pops and watching cartoons and you get presents from Santa at Christmas time, but I also hate them because a few days after new year’s eve I start to get bored and Susan gets on my case about lounging around the house and whining about having nothing to do even though I lie to her and say I’ve got heaps to do and that Nick Xzennophone’s going to call up any minute and invite me around to his house to play. And every year, no matter how busy I try to make myself look busy (this year I started constructing the Mother Of All Cubby Houses in the lounge room using bed sheets and the next-door neighbour’s nailgun), Susan always eventually insists that I go in to my electorate office and help out a bit.

I didn’t even know I had an electorate office until two summer holidays ago. That year, when Susan told me to go there I thought she was saying “electricity office” and I called her a stupid idiot, poked my tongue out the side of my mouth, crossed my eyes, and did the crazy sign with my finger around my ear. After my two weeks’ grounding Susan drove me to my electorate office and told me to help my office manager do whatever needed to be done.

After introducing myself to the staff I asked them what they did all day. Apparently there are these things called “conspicuents” who I represent in the Senate and the electorate office communicates with them, and it turns out that I have a few million conspicuents because I represent the whole of Victoria because Victoria voted for me. When I was explaining this to my family over dinner later that night my son mumbled something about me only really having a handful of conspicuents and most of them are in the room right now.

Anyway, last week Susan came into the lounge room just as I was putting the finishing touches on the cubby house’s spiral staircase (made out of bricks, glue, and the Enciclopedeya Britanica Ensyklopedia Brittanica Incyc big set of books about facts) and announced sternly that it was time for me to go to the electorate office. I begged and pleaded and put my foot down but twenty minutes later Susan had confiscated my Bob The Builder tool belt and I was in the passenger seat of the car.

I’ve spent about a week at the office now and I’ve used my time there to walk around and and tell people what to do, given that I am technically everyone’s boss. I like to remind people of this fact by ending all conversations with, “… and just remember that the Victorian people didn’t vote for you.” One day we had a work experience kid doing some photocopying so I walked up, told him to do the photocopying more accurately, complete with my standard conversation ender, and he snapped back, “They didn’t vote for you either, Senator,” accompanying his last word with the inverted comma signals either side of his head. Later that day I saw him giving the receptionist a high-five.

But it hasn’t been all smooth sailing in the office. On my first day there the manager made me sort out the stationery cupboard, re-organising all the stock by height and colour. On my second day she made me lick envelopes and stamps for an electorate mailout. On my third day she made me organise the filing cabinet into reverse-alphabetical order. On my fourth day she made me organise the filing cabinet into Greek alphabetical order. Every couple of hours I had to go across the road and get a round of large muggachinos for everyone plus a weak hot chocolate for me. I tried to tell Susan that I suspected the work was beneath me but she told me to harden up and do as I was told or I wouldn’t get my regular Saturday Happy Meal.

Every now and again a conspicuent would come into the office with a question and the office manager would usually deal with them very quickly and effectively. There were only a couple of conspicuents that she sent through to see me in my office (I don’t really have an office there but I made one in the stationery cupboard using a bedsheet and a stapler, affixing a sign to the door that read, “Hon. Steve Fielding, Acc., Eng., Leader of Family Fist”). One of the conspicuents wanted to know what I was going to do to ensure that he and his male partner had the same rights as real families, and the other wanted to know when a large hole in his road was going to be fixed and told me that us pollies sit around all day playing silly games instead of working hard for our generous salaries and benefits funded by the taxpayer. I gave them both Nick Xzennophone’s private mobile number, thanked them for their time, and continued playing Minesweeper on my laptop.

Now that the summer holidays are drawing to a close I can’t wait for Senate to start back for the year. I know that my electorate office does really important work, and my conspicuents deserve the attention of the Senators they elected, but I have people to give them that attention on my behalf. Plus, when I’m in my Canberra office and Susan tells me to do a menial job I can just throw a media stunt and the gathered journalists make it impossible for Susan to make me do it.

Until next time.