What do city mayors do with their day? Mitchell Toy takes a guess
Between trying to find a solution to climate change and travelling on overseas jaunts, Melbourne’s mayors have a lot on their plate. Mitchell Toy imagines what council mayors do with their days.
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After revelations Melbourne councils spend a huge chunk of ratepayers’ money on administration, we’re left wondering what the average mayor does all day.
Here’s what we imagine they might get up to.
10.30am — Roll up at chambers. Quick meeting about pressing issues. Soap dispenser’s empty in men’s room and biscuits have run out in kitchenette. Tell Jude to only get Monte Carlo from now on, none of this arrowroot garbage. She says too expensive. Fine. I’ll get them myself and whack it on the card.
11am — Meeting with ratepayers about potholes. Apparently numerous and deep. Someone lost a dog down there. Do my best to explain that council has better things to do. Very close to fixing global warming and can’t divert resources. Explain they should stop driving cars. I think everyone now agrees it’s ratepayers’ fault. Nothing to do with council. Grab a Boost on way back to office and whack it on the card.
11.45am — Quick coffee meeting with the CEO. He whacks it on his card. Gets me to sign a bunch of papers. Glad he looks after the complicated stuff. Staff numbers increasing by 25 per cent. Must be lots going on! Says there’s been some pushback from ratepayers on latest multi-faith unisex toilet block and wetlands. I ask how much it’s costing and he won’t say. I joke we should whack it on the card! He laughs nervously and has to leave early.
12.15pm — Lunch. Great local restaurant where the old gold chain discount is still observed. Top stuff. Great salmon. Joined by Anita and Trent from comms. They talk a lot. Both reckon I’m the best mayor they’ve ever seen. Kicking goals. We have a good laugh about consultation process for huge new apartment block. “More like NO consultation!” says Trent. What a great guy. I whack lunch on the card. I usually order a couple of extra bottles to take home but other tables are already watching us because we are being a bit loud so I leave it.
1.30pm — Pop into IGA to get the Monte Carlos and some Berocca. Whack on card. Footpaths are a disgrace around here. Cracked and dangerous. They don’t have footpaths like that in Frankfurt, I bet. CEO says I get to go to Frankfurt to talk with other important people about climate and gender. Safe footpaths here I come! Whenever I come back from overseas the council staff seems to have gotten bigger, though. Might be imagining it.
2.15pm — Gown up for visit to local nursing home where a lady is turning 100. Boring as. Cop some heat from staff about lack of disability parking. Tell them bikes are better anyway. Get conned into buying raffle tickets. Cash only and can’t whack on card. Not even a receipt. These people are monsters. Make up for it by going back to chambers and watching Chernobyl on my phone for an hour in a locked meeting room. How about those idiots in charge at Chernobyl. I should have been in charge.
3.45pm — Front an info session about new bins. Lots of angry ratepayers saying their bins keep getting smaller. Tell them cutbacks necessary because CEO says new Refugee Welcome Hub won’t pay for itself. One guy asks how many refugees there are in local area. I say we’re probably still waiting on the refugees but doesn’t hurt to be tolerant anyway. Only $3M. Just throw less stuff in the bin.
4.15pm — Interview with local paper. Lots of exciting stuff happening. Tell journo to ask CEO about it because I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. Journo wants to know why Freedom of Information requests keep getting knocked back. Accuses me of fostering culture of secrecy. I joke that if I have no idea what the council staff are doing, she has no chance of finding out either. Doesn’t go down well. I insist it was off the record but she might print it. Trent will sort it out.
4.40pm — Sneak out early to put some bets on. Think about whacking it on the card but decide to do the right thing and claim beers only. A few shots for the ragamuffins at the bar too, why not. Chat to the bar lass about Chernobyl. She says it reminds her of council. I think she means councillors make huge sacrifices to clean up everyone else’s radioactive mess. She must mean that.
6.30pm — Stop by 7-11 to get a pack of gum. Put on my personal card. Got to look after ratepayers, after all.
7.15pm — Home for some more Chernobyl. Can’t remember whether my Deliveroo account is connected to council card or not. Whatever. If Jude gets angry with me again I’ll know! Curry tonight.
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10.30pm — Wake up after nodding off in front of TV. Now I can’t remember where I’m up to in Chernobyl. Field a few emails from ratepayers. Always so hateful! Email from Trent says he’s fixed that thing with the journo but “will cost a pound of flesh”. Stop being dramatic, Trent. Put Monte Carlos by the front door so I remember to take them in the morning before turning in.
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