Back in 2010, which was fifteen whole years ago, I went to a little town on the Sunshine Coast called Buderim for a week long glass art course. We mainly did a lot of kiln work, as well as cold working the glass. The course was held at the very eccentric teacher's glass studio, which was at her house, and she offered the option to stay with her at an extra cost.
I thought that was a nice idea, so I stayed with her. And when I say she was eccentric, I wasn't joking. She was a full on, completely out there, literally out of this world glass artist, and that’s what I absolutely loved about her. At night she told me about all these parties she'd been to with politicians and celebrities. She even told me about how she went to an event with spaghetti bolognese strategically placed in her hair. Below you can see a photo of us together in her studio.
From memory, there were around four of us doing the course, and there was one lady I got along with particularly well. I can't remember her name, but she would have been around the same age as I am now — early to mid-forties. One day she asked me if I wanted to go along with her to her friend’s house that night, and I said I'd love to. She came and picked me up from where I was staying and we went a fair way out of town. Even though I can’t remember her name, I did find a photo of us together, which you can see below. I’ve also included three photos showing how I transformed five little panels of glass with teardrop decals into a single piece with 3D depth. You can’t really see the full detail of the final product—but I thought it was pretty cool.
A few other people joined us — all women — and it seemed like they all knew each other. I loved this house. Everything was white. There were these big, comfortable white lounge suites laid out in a square, and the group of us eventually made our way over to the lounges and sat around. There was food laid out, and I didn’t feel like there was anything suspicious going on. It was just like a get together of women.
It turned out that it was a little bit dodgy. This group of lovely ladies were part of a movement which, from memory, I think was called The Magician’s Way. They talked a little bit about it and gave me the book, which was apparently written by an Australian man. The thing they didn’t realise was that I am literally unconvertible. I've been into the Scientology org and I asked them, “You won’t be able to convert me, but can I do a course just to learn about you?” They agreed, and I was never converted — and I wasn’t converted to The Magician’s Way either.
But at that moment in time, I think I found myself in one of their meetings, and I was interested. They asked us to go around the circle and each tell the group about ourselves. I think this was for my benefit, because they all knew each other. I can’t remember what they all said now, which is a shame, because they were all great. But when it got to me, I didn’t know what to say.
Back then I was 29 years old and working in the Centrelink Call Centre. I’d taken leave to go to Queensland to do the glass course, and prior to that I had spent my time working at Centrelink, taking advantage of their working holiday program. What that means is, due to the portable nature of the role, anyone working within the Centrelink Call Network can travel to any one of the other 24 call centres around Australia and work from there. So I spent time in Port Augusta, Bendigo, Coffs Harbour, and Illawarra, which is in the town of Wollongong.
Even though I had a full-time government job, I was still moving around like I was when I was temping. I was so unsettled — and the one thing I learned from all of that is: "Wherever you go, there you will be."
Whilst I can’t remember what the women were saying, I do remember they were very open and honest about who they were and what led them there. I can’t really even remember what I said, but I do remember I opened with this:
“I feel like my whole life I’ve been trying to thread a piece of cotton through the eye of a needle, and I just haven’t been able to get it through yet.”
I looked over at the potential lesbian host and she gave me a very caring smile. I can’t remember what happened after that. I think things got a little weird and they tried to get me to join their group — but as I said, I’m unconvertible.
The point of me telling you this story is: I am still in the same situation now. I’ve stopped bouncing around from jobs and places, but I still haven’t been able to get that cotton through the eye of the needle. And after the events of the last few days, I doubt I ever will.
I had such a nice time in Buderim. I made some things out of glass and I met some awesome people. I didn’t stay in touch with anyone, not even the eccentric artist who I came to know, but sometimes that’s nice too — just to briefly cross paths with someone and let the beauty of that brief interaction speak for itself.
Three years later, in 2013, I was driving down Magill Road and there was a police car in the lane next to me. As I looked over, I made eye contact with the female driver and I just smiled. I can’t remember if she smiled back. I then turned right onto Hackney Road. Then I saw the dreaded red and blue lights behind me, alerting me to the fact that I had to pull over.
So I did, and the female police officer I had just smiled at came over to the car. She looked about 18 years old, and she was on a real power trip, which instantly set a hostile mood. She told me I had been texting while driving. I told her that I had not been texting while driving, and I handed her my phone. She said she didn’t need to see it, but that I had been texting, and she asked for my driver’s licence.
I really disputed this. I hadn’t been texting while I was driving. I knew the fine was high, and I just didn’t do that — but I hesitantly handed over my licence. This girl really was a piece of work. She went back into the police car where her fellow police officer was, and she must have been in there for ten minutes. Then she came out with a fine, which was around the $500 mark.
I was absolutely livid. I didn’t express that so much to her — although she knew I wasn’t happy. I honestly hadn’t done it, and I saw this as a real injustice. I didn’t know why she had said that. Anyway, I took the fine, and when I got home I read the back of it, which said you could appeal it or you could go straight to court and contest it.
I was so angry that I thought I could go into court and tell the magistrate what had happened, and they would cancel the fine. At the time, I was working in the Super SA call centre and earning a normal wage. I could afford the fine — but it was the principle. This police officer had just given me a fine out of nowhere.
The next day I sent the form back saying I wanted to contest the fine. I completely bypassed the appeals process. My boss — who I was very close with — warned me against doing that, but I was really fired up. The injustice of it all.
I started researching police quotas for how many people they’re required to fine for texting while driving, and I got quite caught up in it for a while. Then I let it go and forgot about it. When my court date arrived, I was prepared to go — but at the last moment, I realised I simply couldn’t face the judge. It wasn’t that I feared him sentencing me or doing anything legal. What terrified me was the thought of him looking into my soul and, for the second time in my life, having a judge declare my existence meaningless and stunt the course of my life, again.
So, I called the Courts Administration Authority. I told them I had a fine for texting while driving and I had contested it. I said I was due in court the next day, but asked if I could just pay the original fine instead of going to court. They said that was fine, they would take care of it and send the fine out.
I waited for the fine. When it eventually came, it had one special little word next to the now $25 fee: CONVICTED.
I’m not sure what I thought of this at the time. Even though it was a conviction for texting while driving, I can’t remember if I knew the implications it would have for the rest of my life. I talked to my mother about it, and she spoke to a girlfriend of hers who’s a lawyer, who said it could easily be taken off — but it’s just one of those things I never got around to.
In my mind, I had it as something I was definitely going to do, but by the time I realised that this actually comes up on police checks, it was too late. And instead of having a visa waiver for the US — and probably other countries — I have to actually go to their embassies interstate and explain the conviction.
People pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to avoid getting a conviction, and I so flippantly allowed myself to get one. I was a little annoyed at the guy from the Courts Administration Authority for advising me that I could just pay the fine, but it’s not his fault. Ultimately, it’s my own.
I called them the day before I was due in court, and I need to take full responsibility for the fact that I fucked up. I simply could not face the judge. I also need to take responsibility for the fact that, whilst I didn’t text while I was driving, I may have checked the time or something on the phone on autopilot and not even realised I did it. I feel like police officers don’t create phantom scenarios to get their fine quota up.
I was told, at least, that the conviction becomes spent after ten years and no longer appears on a police check. It’s not the end of the world that it was on a police check. But it’s just that awkwardness of having to explain it, as I have done a few times — for employment, particularly in government and volunteer roles.
It became a spent conviction in 2023.
So I spent ten years as a convicted criminal and I know this sounds stupid but once it became spent I felt like I got a little bit of my dignity back. I was volunteering at this one place and I told the CEO about the conviction and she told me that she's seen a lot of DUI's on police checks. That made me feel a little bit better but it still makes you feel a little bit dirty.
I applied to do make phone calls to isolated elderly people last year. I got a whole stack of emails about it, but I didn’t pursue it at the time because I had other priorities. Then, when I was in Cambodia, I got a call from the organisation asking if I was still interested. I told them I was, but that I was overseas, and asked if they could call me back when I returned to Australia.
They called me around February of this year, and I told them I was available to volunteer. I received a lot of emails from the them, including login details for my account — but they didn’t work. I emailed someone for help, but no one got back to me, so I kind of just left it for a bit - with every intention of following it up.
Then they called again and asked if I was ready to start. I said I could start if they wanted me to, but I felt like I had missed some steps in the onboarding process. They told me everything was fine and sent me a training video. So, in April, I started.
I hadn’t filled in any forms, even though I had sent multiple emails asking what was required of me. One of the women told me it was fine to get started. Then, about a month later, a woman from Human Resources emailed me and asked if I had completed my onboarding pack. I told her that I had already started volunteering and had been asking for assistance, but never received any guidance. She told me I hadn’t completed a police check and asked me who I had spoken to.
She sent me a link to complete the police check and told me I could keep volunteering. But then my team told me we had to wait until the check came through. I knew my conviction was spent, so I told the woman in HR that it would come back clear and shouldn’t take too long. I even sent her a copy of a recent police check I’d had done that came back completely clear.
It wasn’t a big deal. The woman in my team told me she had put me on leave while we waited. But then, on Friday, the HR woman emailed me again and asked me to log into my account to fill in some forms. I logged in — and on the right hand side of the screen, it said “Terminated.”
I was absolutely heartbroken and devastated. I went back to the woman in HR and asked her what it meant. She didn’t answer me. I think I asked her five times. Eventually, she replied and said I was an active volunteer and not to worry about it. But then she said I had previously been terminated due to non-compliance but then reinstated.
I cannot explain how I felt. “Dirty” isn’t the right word. It was a sense of shame I haven’t felt since I was lifting my dress to the boys at primary school. But then, on the other hand, I didn’t accept it. I had honestly asked a million times about the forms I needed to fill in, and no one helped me.
So I thought long and hard about this. Even if I’m not terminated now, if I have a “terminated – non-compliant” on my record, that will affect any future opportunities within the organisation. And the truth is, after making my calls, which I absolutely love, I wanted to devote my life to the organisation.
I thought about what my brother or my dad would do. And I decided: I would get a lawyer.
I’m not the sort of person who would usually stand up for myself in a situation like this but I simply will not accept a “Terminated – Non-Compliant” from this particular organisation. Yes, I was clumsy. And I take full responsibility for anything I missed or misunderstood. But I did not deliberately mislead them about my police check.
So I sent the woman from HR the following email:
Dear HR,
Thank you for your response.
In the interest of fairness and transparency, I want to formally notify you that I will be initiating legal action in relation to this matter.
I believe that the handling of my volunteer onboarding process, particularly the failure to clarify which forms were required from me despite my repeated enquiries, amounts to misleading conduct and a failure of duty of care. I asked numerous times if any further forms were required from me and only after beginning volunteer duties was I told otherwise and subsequently listed as “terminated.”
This has caused me significant emotional distress, and I believe it has also resulted in reputational harm, particularly due to the nature of that terminology being recorded against my name.
I have expressed from the beginning that I am passionate about your organisation and its humanitarian mission. My decision to take this matter further is not made lightly, but I believe it is important that volunteers are treated with dignity, clear communication, and proper procedural fairness. What has occurred here is not acceptable, and I am taking steps to have this legally addressed.
Kind regards,
Me
This is the sort of email someone might send and then totally regret. I know it sounds cold, and maybe it’s a little harsh but I have to stick up for myself.
I love volunteering with this organisation. I love it. But to think that I had previously been terminated from that, even if it was reversed was gut wrenching. It’s soul destroying. So yes, I put my bitch cap on but I don’t regret it.
They didn’t reply by COB on Friday, and with the long weekend, I have one more day to wait before they might respond. I feel like they’ll get defensive and to be honest, I’ve said my bit. I feel like I might just let it go.
I’ve been deeply upset by having “terminated” and “non-compliant,”listed against my name but I think the damage to my reputation is already done. It feels irreversible. So I’ll have to walk away from something I genuinely love.
What happened after that made the situation a whole lot worse. Yesterday morning, which was a Saturday, I got an email from CrimCheck, the organisation handling my police check. It said there were “disclosable court outcomes” on the check. It hadn’t been sent to the organisation yet, and they gave me the chance to appeal it.
But I had a look at a copy of the check and there it was. Disclosable court outcome. Texting while driving. $25 fine.
I don’t cry. I can’t cry, for some reason. But tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt physically sick.
This now looks like I had avoided doing the police check. It compromises my integrity because I said my police check was clear. It suggests I could be potentially fraudulent, having sent them a clear one, when this one actually has a conviction on it.
I can’t explain the way I felt then… and the way I feel now. I feel defeated. I feel like not only have I taken a huge bite out of humble pie, I feel like the one time I try to stand up for myself, I end up looking like a dishonest, lying fool.
I think people who are flawed like me are expected to live like this, with things going wrong all the time, not being able to thread the cotton through the fucking needle.
I don’t know why I care anymore, about going to uni for the 100th time, losing weight, wanting to go to Israel, creating artwork. What does it all matter?
I just can’t get it right. I feel like I don’t belong here. I just want to hug someone so badly, but there is no one to hug. I literally have nobody. I have nothing. And I am nothing.
I really think this police check thing has pushed me to rock bottom. And literally all I want to do is contribute to an organisation I feel passionately about. But a few administrative professionals, who are custodians of process within the organisation, have put a black mark against my name. Which, let’s face it… maybe I deserve.
