An odyssey of drive-offs, spiked slurpees, stale sausage rolls and sleep-deprived madness.
An odyssey of drive-offs, spiked slurpees, stale sausage rolls and sleep-deprived madness.
'The descriptions are sublime . . . Goodwin's eye - sharp, unforgiving - allows nothing to escape . . . His literary promise is savage' THE AUSTRALIAN
'Goodwin is a natural-born storyteller, effortlessly compelling whether he's talking about the draconian policies of his bosses, the mad ramblings of his regulars or his own forays into chemical-induced debauchery . . . However, the true secret to Servo's brilliance is that beneath its irreverent, gonzo stylings it's actually a heartfelt, coming-of-age memoir' READINGSAn odyssey of drive-offs, spiked slurpees, stale sausage rolls and sleep-deprived madness.Most of us have done our time in the retail trenches, but service stations are undoubtedly the frontline, as Melburnian David Goodwin found out when he started working the weekend graveyard shift at his local servo.From his very first night shift, David absorbed a consistent level of mind-bending lunacy, encountering everything from giant shoplifting bees and balaclava-clad goons hurling cordial-filled water bombs from the sunroof of their BMW, to anarcho-goths high on MDMA releasing large rats into the store from their matching Harry Potter backpacks.Over the years, David grew to love his mad servo, handing out free pies and chocolate bars on the sly as he grew a backbone and became street smart. Amidst the unrelenting chaos, he eventually made it out of the servo circus - and lived to tell the tale.For anyone who's ever toiled under the unforgiving fluorescent lights of a customer service job, SERVO is a side-splitting and darkly mesmeric coming-of-age story from behind the anti-jump wire that will have you gritting your teeth, then cackling at the absurdity, idiocy and utterly beguiling strangeness of those who only come out at night.'A rewarding read . . . This journey into the "servoverse" is full of wild and sometimes poignant characters . . . [A] mix of fellow-feeling, social commentary and black humour' SYDNEY MORNING HERALDDavid Goodwin survived weekend graveyards in servos for several interminable years: way too long to stay anything approaching sane. He is, thankfully, no longer a day-sleeper with a halogen tan, but still maintains a ruinous predilection for slurpees, chocolate Big Ms and sausage rolls with too much tomato sauce. He is a published poet, holds a Dual Advanced Diploma in Advertising and Marketing and, these days, revels in having a somewhat normal circadian rhythm.
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