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Beware the Bloke Who Knows It All

Oct 14, 2026

An attempt at a humorous, yet cautionary tale from the weighbridge. All characters are fictional. Any resemblance to a bloke on your site is, sadly, entirely possible.

Illustration of a bearded man in yellow workwear sitting inside a workshop.

Meet Darryl
 

While it’s becoming rarer, some sites still have them... Whether it's a Dave, Darryl, Barry, Mick, Karen, Janice or Gino, you'll know after reading this if you’ve got one.
 

For the sake of this article, we'll go with Darryl... or "Daz"
 

"Daz" has worked the same job at the same transfer station since before there was even a fence around it.  Some say the site was built around him, the way a tree grows around a fence post.  He says it.
 

In all that time, "Daz" has never been promoted, applied for a promotion, or been considered for one.  
 

Adding to that endorsement, unsurprisingly, he has never once been wrong.
 

Not about anything.
 

Ever.
 

Ask Daz how the supervisor should run the roster and he'll tell you. Ask him how the site manager should negotiate contracts and he'll tell you. Don't ask him anything at all, and he'll still tell you, usually at smoko, usually with his mouth full of sausage roll.
 

Daz knows how to do every job on site better than the person doing it.
 

The loader driver? "Hasn't got a clue."
 

The new HSE officer? "Fresh out of uni, brainwashed leftie.  What do they even teach them there?"
 

The manager? "Couldn't organise a sausage sizzle at Bunnings."
 

The bloke who started last Tuesday? "Already a problem."
 

In fact, there is only one person Daz has ever spoken well of: Kev.
 

Kev was, according to Daz, "the best operator this site ever had," right up until he was "unfairly" sacked three and a half years ago. The official reason was that Kev was caught smoking in the flammable goods storage shed. Dazza's reason is that "management had it in for him."
 

He still brings it up. Weekly. With feeling.
 

"Daz", self confessed environmental expert

Daz is also, by his own assessment, the leading authority on environmental compliance in the state of Victoria. This is impressive, given he believes the whole thing is "a load of rubbish," which, to be fair, is the one subject on which he has genuine hands-on experience.
 

The General Environmental Duty, "Made up by greenies."
 

The Environment Protection Act? "Never read it, don't need to."
 

Spill containment? "That's what stormwater pits are for, mate."
 

And then there's The Story.
 

If you've been on site longer than a fortnight, you've heard it.
 

Some years ago, two EPA officers turned up for an inspection. Daz, who had appointed himself site spokesman, even at that early stage, "barrelled them up at the gate." He told them they were "a couple of greenies with clipboards," informed them that "nobody here's done anything wrong" and "they've got no right stepping past this line",  tracing an imaginary line with the side of his filthy work boot, and sent them on their way.
 

"They haven't been back since," he says, leaning back with the satisfied look of a man who single-handedly defeated the regulator. "They're scared of me now. I showed them."
 

Nobody has the heart to tell Daz that the EPA did come back. Twice. They just didn't ask for him. The second visit is the reason the site now has multiple spill kits on site, a new drainage plan, and a raft of other compliance paperwork.
 

Not that Daz would care.  That stuff is all a load of rubbish... especially those procedures he needs to sign off on.
 

"Mate, I know a bloke..."

Dazza's crowning business insight concerns the drums of paint waste stacked in the corner of the yard.
 

"The boss is paying how much to get rid of them? Mate. I know a guy. He'll take the lot for a slab and fifty bucks. Picks it up in his ute. Can do it Saturday morning. No paperwork, no fuss."
 

"Way cheaper than he can get rid of it for".
 

Daz cannot understand why management keeps "wasting money" on a licensed contractor when his mate has a ute and is right there, ready and willing.
 

Where does Dazza's mate with the ute take the drums? Darryl doesn't know.
 

Does his mate have an EPA permit? Darryl doesn't know.
 

Is the ute a permitted vehicle for transporting reportable priority waste? Darryl doesn't know.
 

Who cops it when four drums of solvent-based paint turn up in a creek bed out past Bacchus Marsh, each one helpfully labelled with your company's name?
 

Darryl doesn't know that either.
 

Why Darryl is an environmental hazard
 

It's easy to laugh at "Daz". It sounds ridiculous, right?
 

Dazza's advice can cost a business its licence, its reputation and a very large amount of money. Here's why.
 

  1. The waste is still yours after the ute drives off. In Victoria, if you produce or handle industrial waste, you have a duty to make sure it goes to a place that can lawfully accept it. Hand your paint drums to the guy with the ute and the liability doesn't leave in the tray with him. When they're found dumped, the regulator starts with whoever's name is on the drum.

  2. Paperwork isn't "fuss." It's your alibi. Reportable priority waste has to be carried by a permitted transporter and tracked through EPA's waste tracking system. A Saturday-morning cash job with "no paperwork" is not a bargain. It's a delayed disaster.

  3. The General Environmental Duty applies to everyone (including Daz). It requires anyone whose activities could cause harm to take reasonably practicable steps to minimise the risk. Banging your chest and bragging, "I got it cheaper" is not one of those steps.

  4. Telling EPA officers to clear off is not a win. EPA authorised officers have powers to enter and inspect sites. Obstructing or abusing them can be an offence, and it does wonders for how they view the rest of your operation. Dazza's actions didn't scare the EPA off. He put the site on their calendar.

  5. He "trains" the new starters. Not officially, but every new starter who hears that stormwater pits are "for spill containment" is a future incident report. Bad habits spread fast... like a spill in a stormwater drain.

  6. He's confidently wrong, and confidence is contagious. The real danger isn't what Daz knows. It's what he doesn't know, delivered with total certainty to people who don't know better yet.
     

Safety?  (He's not much better)

Dazza's approach to safety follows the same path.
 

  • His hero was sacked for smoking in the flammables shed. Let that sink in. The one colleague Darryl admires is the one who nearly turned the site into a fireworks display. That tells you everything about how he weighs risk.

  • "I've done it this way for twenty years." So has the forklift with the dodgy brakes. Surviving isn't a safety system.

  • He knows a shortcut for everything. Lockout procedures, exclusion zones, PPE. Darryl has a quicker way for all of them, and the quicker way usually involves someone else standing closer to the machinery.

  • He makes people afraid to speak up. When the loudest voice at smoko mocks anyone who reports a near miss, people stop reporting near misses. Then they stop being near misses.
     

The moral of the story

This is a humorous take on an important topic.  Many sites have "environmental experts" that "have always done it this way", but times have changed.
 

Environmental compliance is complex and carries with it harsh penalties, including criminal prosecution in some cases.
 

What used to wash, doesn't these days.
 

Don't listen to Daz.
 

When you have a question about waste classification, transport, storage or what to say when EPA turns up at the gate, ask the person whose responsibility it actually is: your environment officer, your supervisor, your site manager, your site's environmental compliance consultant, or EPA Victoria itself. They might not have been on site since before the site fence went up, but they probably understand their obligations under the Act.
 

Let's finish on Daz. He'll be at smoko tomorrow, same chair, same story. Kev's still unfairly sacked. The EPA is still scared of him. And his mate's mate with the ute is still waiting for your call.
 

Don't make it.
 

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