If I were Tamara, I'd be avoiding all retail outlets for the next few weeks.
Married At First Sight uses Monday night's season nine premiere to slag off a niche but vital demographic: All retail workers.
An odd missile to launch during the first episode of the year, but it's a nice surprise. Affairs and C-word scandals were getting old. Producers are now moving into hot-button issues. What's to come after tonight's tirade about retail workers? Take your pick. Tomorrow we might be faced with a groom who reckons nurses should be paid less, or a drunk brother-in-law who uses the reception speeches to position himself as Australia's Joe Rogan.
Pull out ya handbag biscuits and wine straws. We've got serious business to get through.
In the opening minutes, we're assaulted with clashy music and choppy clips spliced together — teasing explosive moments that'll unfold over the coming weeks.
There's a snippet of a kitchen fight where one wife screams, "Let me finish a f**king sentence!"
Will she get to finish her sentence? Guess we'll have to keep watching to find out.
Then we get a peek at a tense dinner party scene where another wife cuts sick. "I'm just gonna say it — I don't like you, and I don't like you!"
I yelled the same thing at my colleagues Lis and Keryn just the other day in the office kitchenette. This show is nothing if not relatable.
Then the voiceover baits us with the same teaser that's used at the beginning of every MAFS premiere. "It's the most shocking twist in MAFS history!"
I'm secretly hoping the twist is that all the contestants have their real teeth.
Of course, like the MAFS premieres of yore, we're forced to attend the annual bucks' and hens' nights. They're elegant affairs, taking place in two separate mansions on Sydney Harbour. The best part about these parties is imagining the reactions of the oblivious homeowners when they flip on the TV and see their mansions being trashed by the MAFS lunatics.
Are we ready to meet some of them? You'd better be sure — because once we begin, there's no stopping. It'd be like trying to put a genie back in the bottle. Or, more accurately: It'd be like trying to herd a bunch of really drunk bogans back into a 4WD limousine.
We're not gonna do the whole roll call of this year's hopefuls. We'll just pick out the star talent.
Everyone say g'day to Al! He's a 25-year-old carpenter with low self-esteem.
"I think the other grooms will love me. Everybody loves me," he shoots us a finger-gun.
Al is just a bubbling fountain of instantly mockable sound bites.
"I like to party and live life on the edge. I'm half Malaysian, half Australian — and I guess that's why girls love me so much," he shrugs.
"If I had to give myself a rating out of 10, it'd be an 11."
Al waltzes into the bucks' party like he's King Ding-a-Ling (copyright Cyclone Cyrell 2019, all rights reserved), and then announces: "I've never been in a relationship before!"
That's not true, Allen. You're in love with yourself.
Over at the hens' night, we meet Celine, whose conservative parents are not thrilled about their daughter's involvement on the show.
"If my mum could pick me the perfect husband, he would look like Kim Jong-un and have a multimillion-dollar company in China," Celine sighs.
Real talk: I want Celine's mum to find me a husband. I also kinda just wanna be her best friend.
Then we meet Tamara, who knows what she wants in life and love.
"Honestly, if he's too weak, I'll break him," she informs us. "If they put a guy that was really fragile with me, it would be upsetting."
It's around now we start giggling because Tamara doesn't know she's about to be paired with soft-spoken Brent who has one secret wish.
"I would definitely like to be little spoon sometimes," he confides in us.
We can't wait to see Tamara's reaction when he eventually says this to her face.
Tamara reveals she moved to the Gold Coast five years ago with nothing but a dream and a really tiny dog.
"The first year or so was really hard. There was so many times I was gonna go home," she divulges. "But … I didn't give up."
Inspiring stuff. Can't wait for her episode on Australian Story.
Eventually, Tamara's fortunes turned around.
"Now, I'm an operations manager at a real estate IT company," she informs us.
We see the thick metal doors of an office elevator ping open and Tamara struts out with purpose while clutching important-looking documents. "I love being the boss," she declares.
Of course, we're treated to video footage of Tamara doing Very Important Boss Things.
"Okay, that would be great, if you could do that as soon as possible," she says on a fake phone call before pretending to type into a blank Word document.
"Average just isn't for me," Tamara says. "I don't want a pushover guy! I need a real man!"
Mmmhmmm. Mmhhhm. We hear you loud and clear, Tamara. But can we interest you in a guy who's scared of feet?
"I'm really uncomfortable around feet. They freak me out," Brent shivers. "If she's got bad feet, I think it'll be one of the biggest deal-breakers."
If the producers do not do everything in their power to ensure Tamara contracts a nasty fungal infection during the making of this series, they're simply not doing their jobs.
At the wedding, the atmosphere lacks the usual buzz. Because all the ceremonies were filmed during lockdowns, only a few guests are allowed to come — so that means no drunk judgy aunts or weird brothers.
Sidebar: I want the groomsman and bridesmaid to hook up.
Translation: I want to hook up with the groomsman.
When Tamara and Brent come face-to-face at the altar, it starts out wonderfully. Then she asks what he does for work.
"A bar, restaurant and club," he replies.
Tamara's face says it all.
Then she breaks the fourth wall and practically begs us to step in and save her.
She has no other choice but to dash into a hallway to vent her frustrations.
"Why does he work in a nightclub?" she fumes. "I don't wanna date another party boy. That's not appealing. I work for a big corporate company — like, I'm busy … every day."
Mmhhmm. Mhhmmm. We get it, girlfriend. You're busy. It's a miracle you were able to take six months off to be a part of this travelling circus.
"He doesn't appear to be what I've hoped for. Maybe he's not as much of a man as what I did ask for. He does seem like your average kinda guy. And, um … Average just isn't for me. I'm not average. I don't do average."
She's determined to get to the bottom of this issue and decides to broach Brent's career failings at the only appropriate time: While posing for their official wedding photos.
"When you told me you work in a nightclub … what do you … do?" she squints.
Brent furrows his brow. "I don't work in a nightclub. I work in hospitality. I'm a hospitality specialist."
This clarification leaves Tamara feeling even less impressed.
"I run events," Brent continues to desperately validate his career. "I've been living in Dubai for seven years. I opened up a corporate business."
Tamara realises she may have jumped to conclusions a little too quickly.
"I sound like such a b*tch," she says.
Well, that's one way of putting it.
For some people, an altercation like this would be a deal-breaker. But not for Brent. Like all little spoons, he's a sensitive guy. At the reception, he tries to make light of his bride's knee-jerk reactions by asking her what she would've said if she found out he worked in a toy store.
Cue Girl Boss implosion in five, four, three, two …
"Well, if that's your goal — just to stay in a retail job for the rest of your life and not progress …" she begins. "... That's just not me. For where I'm going, that doesn't meet my lifestyle. We just wouldn't get along."
Hot Groomsman is outraged. "So you feel like someone who worked in retail would be a step down for you?"
Tamara doubles down. "As bad as this is, I did date this one guy. He actually did work in a retail shop. And I was embarrassed to sort of, like, introduce him to people. Because I was like, well … he doesn't really complement me very well. Like, that doesn't complement who I am."
Look, she's not coming off very well in this footage. But, hey, c'mon, this is all just a silly hypothetical scenario they're debating. Maybe we've misunderstood Tamara.
"I know what I want and what I deserve and it would be strange to date a guy that worked in a toy store — and I'm definitely not apologetic for that," she states firmly.
Alrighty. Message received. Come Tuesday morning, retail workers around the country will be printing out Tamara's headshot and sticky-taping it behind their cash registers like old-timey WANTED posters.
"I need someone who's going further in life than just working in a toy store," she adds, just to make sure we really understand her point.
Brent's positively upset by his wife's remarks. The only way he'll calm down from this is if we find a big spoon to cradle him.
"Tamara is spoilt. Spoilt and pretentious. And entitled. Her views on people that work in retail are horrible," he fumes.
This is just getting awkward. Someone should really change the topic to something less inflammatory. Definitely no more criticisms tonight.
"You're using your wrong fork," Tamara takes a dig at her exasperated husband, before lecturing him about the sexy topic of cutlery etiquette.
"His right hand was just stabbing at his food," she cringes to us. "It was just a bit … caveman-ish. He will learn how to use his knife and fork properly because I'll pick up on everything he does incorrectly."
Fun! Before we wrap this up, are there any other thoughts you'd like to get off your chest, Tamara?
"He'd be struggling to date anyone," she concludes after observing his short stature.
It's around now Stockholm syndrome sets in for Brent.
"My wife's a psychopath," he says in a fit of hysteria. "I'll say straight out: I like her. It's kinda funny. She's a bit of a dick. I think it's love."
We think so, too. Till Retail Work Do Us Part.
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