In the Red with Whitegoods

Forget about the face paints, thongs and the oath of allegiance (oops, I mean the affirmation of loyalty), the only things you need to be an Australian are a decent car and some debts. I'm convinced that one of the reasons I've been feeling so un-dinkum since I got back is that I had neither. But now, at least part of that has changed.

My search for whitegoods took me to Harvey Norman Auburn, which I heartily recommend if you ever want to disabuse yourself of the notion that you like shopping. Here you are surrounded by sad objects that no one loves, staff that do not care, and shoppers that seem to be fading, wraith-like into a subhuman dimension. Why do people come here?

The answer is finance -- three years interest free. So you can buy stuff and not pay any interest until 2010, or if you want to say it another way (go on, it sounds impressive) until next decade. And the more you spend the better terms they give you -- spend over $1440 and you get the full three-year term. As you can probably imagine, a lot of people come in for a clock radio and a broom and leave with a home cinema system and a bagless vacuum cleaner. All you do is walk around the different parts of the store, choosing the things you want, and then when they tally it all up you go off to one of the back rooms to get your credit rating checked and processed.

Although the rest of the experience is below par, that's the truly dreadful bit, and I fear I will not be able to successfully describe the room where I was 'approved'. I could tell you about the exhausted, grimy grey walls and ceiling tiles, or the surprising lack of contrast these made with the wall calendar of a beach at sunrise. I could describe the piped music -- hip-hop at slightly louder than background level -- or the guy who helped me, with his cocktail-frankfurt fingers and the expression on his face which suggested that the size of his digits was the least of his problems. And although all of this will give you an idea of how drab it was, it won't convey the terrible sordidness of it all. When I walked out, far from feeling empowered, I felt strangely violated.

But now we have a mattress (granted, important), a click-clack lounge, a vacuum cleaner, a kettle and a blender -- and a green GO credit card with a few grand still to spend. Shame Harvey Norman don't do cars, eh?