MINDLESS MUSINGS

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  • MUSINGS ON THE JOB ABOUT THE JOB: Gotcha Paycheck!

    My first full time permanent job began sometime in the early 1990s. It was a small lighting fixture manufacturer rune by 2 brothers. Their 2 wives ran the office and reception, and there were two other guys making the fixtures before I arrived. A grand total of 7. There are a few stories from this place (1 actually made it into the Potential Death etc. series!) This time I have a simple thought I want to follow.

    We got paid in cash. One of the ladies would hand us a little yellow envelope with folded notes and coins inside which added up to our pay that week. I don’t even recall a slip with information written on it. It was a tiny place, so any questions you had about leave or tax or whatever you just asked.

    I also remember that being a family business, they would shut for 3 weeks over the Christmas/ New year period. That only left you with 1 week holiday to use when you wanted. It was the cause of some drama when the next bloke got hired later in the year and had not accrued enough leave to last the 3 weeks. But again, I digress.

    My interest here is on…well, interest. From the banks that is.

    Most people would have still been paid in cash back then. It was then up to them if they wanted to put any of that money into a savings account. Plenty of people just didn’t have bank accounts. I remember opening an account for myself and 3 friends to save for a holiday because none of them used banks.

    I would get paid on Friday and I would walk up to the bank near my work to deposit some money into my account. Not a great amount, this was just my savings account. Eftpos was not a big thing back then and cash was king. Your keycard was mostly for finding an ATM to get cash. Seeing that I already had that cash, I would never withdraw from my ‘savings’ account unless I was really stuck.

    That is a key word here: ‘Savings’ account. I put money in there because I wanted to ‘save’ it. The only money in that account was the cash I had physically taken into the bank and given to a teller with a deposit slip. It was whatever I could spare, and the plan was to have it grow. To simply withdraw it from an ATM later would be stupid!

    I’ll not get too far into financial management and budgeting, my purpose at the moment is just to look at the drastic change our relationship with banks has had and 1 factor I believe had a big impact on that. Banks did not have automatic access to our earnings. They had to entice us to put our money into their coffers.

    Believe it or not, but back then money in an ordinary savings account increased! Seriously! The interest you earned was worth (at least a little bit) more than all the fees and charges. If you did nothing it would indeed grow, rather than be slowly chewed up until it vanished.

    Banks had to do a bit of work to entice your hard earned ‘cash’ onto their books. They also had to compete with Building Societies and Credit Unions, which had the irritating habit of trying to help people accumulate wealth, even if that was simply by not ripping them off. A financial institution that was not insatiably chasing profit and was content with just taking its’ fair cut. Inconceivable!!!

    Years passed and the banks slowly absorbed the building societies and the credit unions slowly faded away. Technological advances swept in and improved payroll efficiency and security. Much like other such innovations it resulted in many jobs lost. Payroll office staff were slashed along with armoured car and other security work. Tedious and dangerous jobs, but they paid the bills.

    Anyway, my gripe is with the choke hold on our income this new and improved service gave the banks. No more would they need to cajole our measly leftover cash for savings accounts. Oh, they would still be called savings accounts, but the whole system was upended, and the balance had greatly shifted to the banks. Depositing our cash into a bank account was no longer optional.

    Prior to this, a worker’s budget (if they bothered) might look like this:

    PAY $446.00

    RENT $180

    BILLS $50

    PETROL $20

    FOOD & FUN $100

    SAVE $90

    Only that last bit would go into the bank. Everything else was paid for in cash.

    The new set-up meant that the banks got your whole pay and charged whatever they considered was ‘fair’ to look after it for you. Those charges inevitably surpassed the interest earned on a peasant savings account, so the whole concept of compound interest was pointless. It still existed, but most people would have been unaware of it and the banks would have counted on the majority not shopping around.

    Now the budget must be worked in reverse; providing that the employee has a budgeting strategy at all. ATM withdrawals are now the norm and ‘savings accounts’ are that in name only. Anyone serious about saving would open a new account to avoid ATM temptation and find a better interest to fees ratio.

    The overwhelming majority of businesses paid their employees this way. Therefore, all those workers now had to have a bank account. All that glorious money to invest and earn with. All that extra capital meant massive profits. All those new account keeping fees meant massive profits.

    Any of that trickle down? Tell us another one!

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #17

    Wayne, Rodney and I were walking across the road from Two Shores Caravan Park at The Entrance to the beach. Our mission was to find wood so that we could have a bonfire and invite all the other youngsters for a gathering. It was going to be so cool!

    As soon as our feet hit the sand Rodney puts up his finger and cries “ding!” Wayne and I both look at him in anticipation of his revelation. “Ding” he cries again. He points to a two story timber frame of a house under construction on the beach.

    “Construction site” he says “Equals timber” he says.

    Wayne and I agreed that this was a fantastic idea and the three of us headed over to the construction site. The sun had just gone down, so light was scarce, but we could see enough to follow a path through the rough deadwood-like growth that grew around the dunes of the beach. To walk through it is a painful experience (don’t get ahead of me).

    We casually entered the structure and prowled around looking for this elusive timber. We found none on the ground floor so we headed upstairs via a ladder in the centre of the house. We split up on the second floor and continued our search.

    When the first thump sounded I had no idea what it was, but another came in quick succession; then another. I heard Wayne scream “they’re throwing bricks!” as he whooshed past me. I had no idea where Rodney was.

    “Get the fuck out of here!” was the cry from the unknown person or persons hurling the bricks.

    It was clear that there were one or more people at ground level who were protecting the site from thieves…and we were the thieves!

    I was desperately trying to find the ladder, but in my panicked state, and in the dark, I was having no luck. I gave up my quest and headed toward the beachside where we had initially entered. The brick hurlers were positioned on the roadside of the structure and my main focus was on getting away from them.

    I got to the edge of the house on the second story and stopped. I am amazed how little effort was required to get me to jump off onto the sand. I had two choices: risk getting branded by a projectile brick or jump. I quickly chose the latter and was down on the sand still hearing bricks landing above and far off cries of abuse as I stumbled to my feet.

    I could not find the path, so I had no choice but to run through the deadwood growth. I didn’t register the pain; I put that down to the extreme amount of adrenaline running through my system (it definitely hurt later). At this stage I still had no idea where Wayne or Rodney were, I was just focused on getting to the sand and back to Two Shores for sanctuary.

    I made it to the sand and found Wayne and Rodney pacing in exasperation and exhaustion. I joined this confused pair and did my own back and forth for a few moments.  We all silently agreed to hustle back to the caravan park with our tails firmly planted between our legs.

    Upon arrival Wayne and I both turned to Rodney and almost in sync said “Ding! Great fucken idea! Ding!”

    There was no bonfire that night, but there was an awesome tale of our death defying escape from the house frame of doom.

  • YOU’RE ALL ONE OF US NOW…SORT OF: Rise of the Tycoons #14

    I wonder if there was ever an empire that grew out of popularity rather than conquest. Imagine a ruler who was so awesome and a society so envied that people were just compelled to join; they flocked to the place, and tales of this alluring kingdom spread far and wide. It expanded to an empire purely on the influx of emigrants…. I reckon that’s more of a city & town thing. A bustling town or city makes a nice addition to an empire.

    No; empires didn’t rely on attraction. They acquired land and subjects through brute force and/or intimidation. There probably were people who emigrated with the hopes of a better life. Like all those dreamers who move to Hollywood. Almost all those people were seeking personal gains among the hustle and bustle of metropolis. A rather self-serving agenda mind you.

    Rarely did invasion result in total subjugation or annihilation, but it usually did mean you had to bend the knee to an outside institution, and things were certainly going to change. Similar to colonisation, the empires often brought new technology and other advancements to a more ‘primitive’ group. Many saw themselves as bringers of light and remover of burdens through sharing their vast knowledge.

    Like colonisation, the assholes who were just after power, glory and wealth were more than happy to let those wannabe missionaries put their noble spin on this expropriation. One does not cancel out the other and often the do-gooders caused more harm than good anyway.

    The conquered individual would never feel like a fully integrated citizen and this alienation could go on for countless generations. This marginalisation might range from feelings of not fitting in, through living on the fringes of society and being a 2nd class citizen all the way down to slavery.

    “You can keep your traditions and beliefs, so long as they aren’t too distasteful for us, but do them over there away from us. You make the place look untidy.”

    And of course, nobody ever asked these conscripted citizens about their thoughts on the matter. “We’re here to improve your lives, so shut up and do as your told. Wouldn’t you prefer to be on the bench of a winning team, rather than playing for losers?”

    Let’s be brutally honest with ourselves; it really didn’t matter how anyone felt about it, if they weren’t strong enough to resist, they were annexed. There would always be rebels and instigators, but troublemakers and even terrorists were all just part of problems an empire had to deal with.

    As a kid I thought the globe and maps of the world were constant. The innocence of youth. I have clear memories of unsuccessfully trying to find Prussia. I cannot remember the first time I came across an older version map of the world (this is all well before the internet), but it blew my mind! It was only 20 odd years ago that I began meeting people who were Assyrian and was too embarrassed to admit my confusion.

    Might be time for one of my layman examples:

    You live in a region, and you call it “Joyton”. Along come the hordes of “Madton” and they enslave you and yours. After a while the armies from “Growton” simultaneously liberate and annex you. You find out you are now part of the “Growton” empire.

    Generations later the empire is crumbling and withdrawing. However, you are now a minority in this region, and the new ‘country’ is called “Newton” (Feel free to add or remove any steps if you like). You still have close ties to your ancient tradition and customs, but your ‘ethnicity’ is now a part of that country’s history: a heritage of huge significance to some, a mere footnote to others and totally unknown to many more.

    Pride and folklore carried through bloodlines alongside rivalries, feuds and outright animosities; a very distinct separation between ‘us’ and ‘them’, and some tourist on a bus tour refers to you all as Italian. I’m sure most accept this without too much fuss when it is out of ignorance, but it could result in a fight if it is meant as an insult.

    One way I try to better understand it is to imagine how it must feel to be heaped into a regional term and having your specific nationality completely ignored. Oriental, Arab, or the piece de resistance – African!

    That all went off on a bit of a tangent. I’ll try and retrace my steps back to the turnoff and continue the line of reasoning in the next one.

    LORETTA: And it’s safe to walk in the streets at night now, Reg

    FRANCIS: Yeah, they certainly know how to keep order, let’s face it

    They’re the only ones who could in a place like this.

    REG: All right, but apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education,

    wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, wine

    and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?”

    XERXES: Brought peace.

    REG: Oh. Peace? Shut up!

  • The Towering Inferno (1974): CORPORATE CONFUSION MEETS MOVIE MUSINGS

    One of the great big budget disaster films; the plot is not too important. Or I should say, it doesn’t need to be too convoluted. The crucial factor for this genre is getting the audience to care for, at least some, of the main characters. Keep the suspension of disbelief going strong and get us invested in the tension and drama and you are nailing it.

    To that end, the first act is usually the ‘getting to know’ the characters, the storyline and their relationship to each other. If you can do this while getting your exposition out unnoticed you are on fire! (yeah, I know)

    Anyway, my interest here is with one specific part of the plot – the reason behind the faulty wiring that causes the fire. No prizes for figuring out it was greed, by the way.

     A quick roll call of the important characters for this sub-plot:

    James Duncan – the billionaire developer

    Doug Roberts – the brilliant architect

    Roger Simmons – the electrical subcontractor and Duncan’s son-in-law

    Michael O’Hallorhan – the Fire Chief

    For a little foreshadowing the building has been having some teething problems lately and Doug would prefer to postpone the big opening ceremony (taking place right up the top of course) a little while to be safe. Duncan is having none of that. He’s got the mayor coming for fuck’s sake!

    My first two cents here regarding this trope in general. The authority figure who refuses to err on the side of safety almost always come off as a reckless money grubber. This may or may not be true, but it is too easy for us to judge up on our high horses; especially when we’re watching a movie about the very disaster this character is betting against.

    Like it or not, a lot of people depend on this persons’ venture being a success. If they fold after every caution the enterprise may fail and then we will hate them for losing our jobs or investments: rock and a hard place stuff. Pragmatism is the only way to take that gamble and always remember the guy refusing to heed the warning does not know he is in a movie called the fucking Towering Inferno! He probably like the chances of things going smooth.

    Back to the conspiracy.

    Duncan asserts that he has full confidence in his building and even more so in Doug’s architectural brilliance. Flattery will get you everywhere. The problems seem to be electrical in origin, so naturally they want to light up the whole building for this special occasion. It’s all about spectacle after all.

    As soon as Doug realises this is happening, he orders all, but the essentials be left on to lessen the load on the dickie electrics. That’s what causes the spark, literally and the towering inferno is beginning to smoke. Cue the action.

    While Doug is inspecting a power box/station he discovers that his specifications may have been slightly downgraded; as in El-cheapo wiring. Doug is furious and confronts Roger who invokes the ‘minimum standards’ defence. Doug insists that those standards are shit to begin with and irrelevant for this building because there has never been one this tall. That is why he specified such high-quality materials.

    Chief O’Hallorhan and his team arrive on the scene and are none too keen on fighting fires in skyscrapers. When the Chief meets Doug he makes his feelings known, telling him how highfalutin architects design these soaring structures and when the shit hits the fan the work of the rescue services is made that much more arduous and risky. The people who build these steel and glass monstrosities are more interested in their own glory than the countless lives they put in peril.

    The most fascinating confrontation takes place between Duncan and his son-in-law. Duncan kicks off from the moral high ground threatening Roger with the throwing of the proverbial book for cutting corners and causing this catastrophe. A bold move considering that Roger counters with the fact that Duncan himself had told him to cut costs wherever possible; $4 million I believe the goal was.

    Roger reminds his father-in-law of his disdain for the architect’s stringent safety requirements and the cost it was adding to the venture. Roger managed to cut $2 million off that superfluous budget, which leaves another $2 million unaccounted for. Wonder how Duncan managed to save that amount of money? Touche!

    Finally, amidst all the chaos and carnage, Doug and Duncan lock horns. Duncan plucks that old minimum standards chestnut out of his ass and Doug repeats his logic from the earlier application of that crap.

    Now let me sum up the message as I see it at this point: Duncan was willing to push the limits of engineering to create a modern marvel, but these things don’t come cheap. Doug had the necessary skill to make this ‘monument to progress’ possible, but he understood the risks involved and felt the burden of responsibility of minimizing those dangers very acutely. This is not a well-matched partnership.

    Neither man can achieve their goal without the other and I suspect both turned a blind eye to the inconsistencies in their visions. Although Duncan would ultimately have the final say on construction and poor old Roger just wanted to get out from under his in-law’s thumb. Pull this off and maybe the old bastard will cut me some slack.

    As for Fire Chief O’Hallorhan, his stated objection was the sheer hubris of these men erecting these gigantic phallic symbols with total disregard for the hazards they pose to both the inhabitants and anybody needing to go in and rescue them if need be.

    So, we reach the conclusion. Many lives have been lost, and the building is proper fucked. Not exactly the spectacle they were hoping for. Survivors are counting their lucky stars and reevaluating their lives. Let’s have a final listen to what our characters are thinking after the ordeal. Then I will impose my opinion and maybe fuck things up; let’s see.

    Duncan is seated with his daughter swearing that he’ll never make the same mistakes again. Seems ‘minimum standards’ will keep him in the clear and in business. Problem: if Duncan places a bid on the next project according to Doug’s specifications he will lose and the contract will go to someone a bit more ‘profit driven’.

    Chief O’Hallorhan passes Doug and hits him with a quip about how ‘you’ hotshots build these structures without listening to the experts in risk mitigation. Doug replies with “I’m listening” and after a couple of exhausted almost grins the credits roll. I imagine we should all be feeling a little optimistic at this point.

    Cynicism alert! Have we all forgotten that Doug had insisted on materials way above the accepted standards and was ignored due to ‘bottom line’ concerns. Maybe he didn’t have the know how the Chief had in respect to rigorous safety protocols, but unless they were extremely cheap, or preferably free, they would have fallen on deaf ears just the same.

    Maybe that’s the missing piece. The Chief knew a cost-effective way for residents to be evacuated quickly and safely but was waiting to be asked about it. Shit, I hope that’s not it!

    The depressing reality is we have three blokes with skills, knowledge and resources who are about to learn that those attributes are not enough. This is where the free market comes up short; unless Duncan can afford to do it alone or he is a tyrannical despot, all the trios’ best intentions will be defeated by the lower bidder with a better story.

    Sorry for that. Follow me for more spoiling of ‘positive’ endings.

  • WE NEED TO DIG A LITTLE BIT DEEPER: What do You Reckon?

    We’re all basically the same, right? I mean, deep down we’re all good people, right?

    Define good.

    What does ‘being good’ or ‘doing good’ mean to you?

    Heavy shit! Sort of, but I won’t drag you along the philosophical obstacle course too much. I just wanted to point out how so often a ‘simple statement’ is just that; simple. Or oversimplifying I should say.

    We’re all basically the same is ridiculous on its own but coupled with the other statement it makes sense. However, the whole statement is so broad it means practically nothing. Without a clear definition of what ‘good’ is we are lost.

    . Good as in:

    • Above average?
    • Correct?
    • Well behaved?
    • Right?
    • Righteous?
    • Nice?

    And it goes on and on. I am only concerned with demonstrating the myriad of ways a ‘simple’ statement can be interpreted based on just one word. For further bamboozlement look up any debate with Professor Jordan Peterson.

    So, you walk down the street feeling secure in your belief that everyone is fundamentally a ‘good person’. You may feel a sudden pang of dread as it dawns on you that many horrible things have been done in the name of the good, or to punish the bad.

    Get to the point!

    I led you to the edge of the semantic precipice to illustrate the silliness of simplistic explanations. Also, I was hoping the idea of leaping into the abyss would make taking the stairs seem easier.

    Most people don’t contemplate life, language and all the rest in that way (when they’re sober anyway). Therefore, we don’t need to get too deep into the quicksand for our task. Instead, how about I throw out a profound sounding quip like “Even subjectivity is subjective”.

    I lost my train of thought…

    What the hell am I trying to say?

    Right! People see the world through more diverse paradigms than we can ever imagine. Yet we’re all the same? How many of the people you interact with on a daily basis do you think would agree on ‘everything’ you believe (that they could know)? How much do we all let slide because it’s ‘no big deal’?

    The purpose of these posts is for me to try and understand the ‘system’. The networks we are all in and how we interact. From that perspective it is crucial to understand that people’s idea of what is ‘good’ has a massive effect on the way they think and behave.

    I do not wish to go too deep into nationality, race and religion at this point, so I will begin with a basic dichotomy for an example. Two people work side by side every day.

    • They like similar movies and TV shows
    • They share a dark sense of humour.
    • Their music tastes do not align so well
    • Nor do their preferred sports.
    • They both hate the boss.
    • Their ideas on love and sex differ quite a bit.

    All that kind of stuff. They get along well and agree to disagree on their differences. One of them believes in God. Not going into a specific religion or definition just yet let’s just say that one of them believes that someone or something created all this and may be:

    • Running the show
    • Watching, judging and waiting.
    • Just watching like kid with an ant farm
    • Answering prayers.
    • An ancient Greek style deity with emotions and ego
    • Etc.

    The other half of this pair is a confirmed atheist. We are born, we do stuff and we die – the end. Just because there is so much that science cannot explain doesn’t mean you just plaster the hole with God and all that stuff.

    These two could spend their working lives never really having a serious discussion on this topic and they would be fine. They will probably never come across a significant test of their faith either (except maybe in those last moments). Without even consciously considering this enormous divide between them, they would say “we’re pretty similar” and yes, they probably do think and behave much alike in many respects. The thing is why do they?

    I could go around this labyrinth for hours and never get bored, but I reckon you might. There are an infinite number of variations on just these two extremes; that’s just on one spectrum and don’t get me started on the various spectrums!

    For the theist you’d need to pin down: is this a loving God, a jealous and vengeful God, more than one God, is it omnipotent, omnipresent, male, female or both???

    For the atheist there would be questions regarding morality and meaning for a creature living on a rock hurtling through an indifferent universe. These two people may both behave in an ethical manner for completely different reasons. They could also be complete assholes and think they are in the right, or ‘good’.

    Now multiply the variables and try and fathom how it applies to an entire population. Think of these characters being higher in the pecking order of power and influence. Think of them in mobs under the spell of groupthink. It boggles the mind!

    It boggles my mind anyway. Maybe it just annoys you having to bother thinking about this. If not, please stay tuned.

  • MUSINGS ON THE JOB ABOUT THE JOB: The Tosser & A Bloke Called Reg

    Two things stick in my mind about that meeting. The self-applause and the story about old Reg.

    Ordinary day at work and we are all asked to scale the lofty heights and attend a farewell meeting in the first-floor offices for our boss. It was a long time ago, so most of this is pretty foggy. I do recall that this guy had not been with us very long and most of us had never even met him. His second in charge, who was taking over, was the one who regularly walked the floor and chatted with the staff. This guy preferred to sit up in his office and do whatever he did up there.

    The 2IC gave a speech and felt that this enigma of a boss was a great mentor (at least to him). Maybe this mystery man was a good boss, we had no way of knowing. It had been business as usual ever since he came aboard. That’s about all I can recall until the man of the moment stepped forward and opened his mouth.

    He proceeded to tell us about how he was bullied as a kid and that he was sure most of the bullies were now worse off than him. He was a success and they were…well doing the shit work like we were doing, I guess. He didn’t use those exact words of course, but that was gist. I can still see the bemused looks of my coworkers as we looked at each other with furrowed brows.

    “What the fuck is this?”

    “Did we go to school with this gronk?”

    His self-admiration then moved on to his beautiful and amazing wife and how they were moving to Melbourne, on to bigger and better things. Our loss I suppose.

    “I’m gunna have a great life me!” He actually fucking said that!

    At this point people started to drift away; some shaking their heads and others just giggling. “What a fucken tool!” Most of us had no idea who this honcho was, and he wants us to witness this goodbye wank-fest. People were going back to work rather than listen to it – that says a lot!

    Some stayed out of politeness or obedience. Most of us stayed just to see what was coming next. It was fascinatingly bizarre!

    Unfortunately, time has erased any other inspirational wisdom given to us by that paragon of modesty, but the Reg yarn has never left me. I’ll tell it in our departing leader’s words.

    “I remember when I was running the H&^%$sh depot. There was this old bloke called Reg who loaded the Gold Coast trailer. One afternoon we got an email enquiring about a parcel and so I was in the GC trailer having a look for it. Reg arrived and saw me in his trailer and he was furious. He told me to ‘get the fuck out of his trailer!’ I didn’t mind though because he always made sure that trailer was loaded properly and on time. I knew I could rely on Reg.”

    When we were finally released from that most peculiar performance the talk was a cross between the insane trumpet blowing and Gold Coast Reg. Our ex-boss, Mr success was impressed with Reg’s dedication. For the rest of us the impression was unanimous.

    “Poor old Reg has lost the fucken plot!”

    “Is he telling us to model our behaviour on a nutter?”

    We’ve all worked with people like that and if you’ve been around long enough you would have been there to see how little the impact of them leaving is. Barely a blip on the radar of the day to day. Of course, those who interacted with him will remember the character he was, but the business will go on as if nothing happened. They took the job so seriously and were replaced so seamlessly like a worn-out cog.

    That said, nobody missed the boasting boss either. At least he went on to greener pastures I suppose. Such a strange event.

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #16

    It was one of Wayne’s shitbox cars again. We were both drunk after a session with the boys at The Vic on the Park hotel. Driving home Wayne decided he wanted to have a little fun in the rain around Mackey Park. I still have no idea what exactly he was trying to do. He would drive up the steep hill that was Premier Street, do a sharp U-turn, then drive along Carrington Road; turn into Richardson crescent and spin the wheel side to side. Like I said I have no idea what he was trying to achieve and I have no idea why I didn’t tell him to stop it. Luckily it was late and there were no other cars around

    He had already performed this strange manoeuvre twice and was driving up Richardson Crescent for the third time. He was spinning the wheel form side to side and we were zig-zagging up the road. This time the rain did its job and the wheels seemed to lose all traction. We were spinning out of control and it seemed to me that we spun at least two 360s.

    Suddenly we straightened up and were headed straight for Mackey Park. The terrifying part was that we were way up Premier Crescent and were heading for a very steep hill down into Mackey Park; the flimsy wire fence could do precious little to prevent us from plummeting down the hill and slamming into the turf below.

    By some miracle the car stopped just before we hit the fence. I say miracle but I am pretty sure it was the gutter that prevented us from a serious crash. Sing hallelujah for gutters! I reckon the wheels must have been buckled from the impact and I didn’t give a shit. I was just overjoyed that the potential plummet had been averted.

    I remember having to pry my hands from the dash board; I was holding it so tight.

    I think I managed to utter “you idiot” and that was all.

    We drove silently home and I do not know what damage was done to the car. I was just glad to make it home in one piece. “Fuck the car” was my sentiment.

  • IT’S A TEAM EFFORT: Rise of the Tycoons #13

    You’ve connived your way to the head of the table in the village. You’ve annexed a bunch of smaller villages and tribes. Maybe even seized some big ones. You are now ruling an empire! Congratulations. You’re on easy street now…

    I’m afraid I’ve got bad news sir.

    Ever notice how throughout history occasionally, some kid ends up on the throne? Maybe his mother is in charge until he comes of age or some other arrangement. There must be a lot more going on behind the throne than we think. Power is a baffling entity, and I will not presume to understand it. What I do know is that it is fickle and can be fleeting. In many ways it seems to be an illusion.

    While this means it is not tangible, make no mistake, it is real. Although, it’s not the crown and throne that bestows authority; it is the perceived power behind those symbols that commands compliance. The story of regal heritage and the collective consensus regarding its legitimacy perpetuate the myth.

    Eventually the maintenance of this majestic supremacy becomes a small industry. An entire entourage dedicated to keeping the show on the road. All sorts of advisors and assistants; a treasurer/y, generals etc. They all have a lot of motivation to keep the status quo. A change in leadership could mean a reshuffle and that is unacceptable.

    So, let’s say that an emperor dies and his only heir is a kid. If the kid is passed over the whole regal legend is open to interpretation. This may well result in that most unwelcome shake-up if any cunning conspirators play their cards right. The old guard must work fast to prevent any subversion.

    That one kid could be the only thing standing between the former imperial court and oblivion. The very lucky ones might keep their position or at least get a lower spot in the court. Some will be sent packing to hang with the plebs. Some will disappear – be that exile or execution, depending on what kind of enemies you made during your career.

    The concept that the king or queen rules absolutely is rarely a reality. Even a tyrannical despot needs people to rely on; maybe not trust, but you can’t do everything on your own. These empires are complex systems with way too many moving parts; and who is in charge of security? Who is literally watching your back?

    There is no avoiding everyone’s dependence on others. Even the one at the top has to let their guard down. At the bare minimum they must eat, drink and sleep. It must be torture to a paranoid mind. For that matter it must be very difficult not to have a few major trust issues and the best double-crossers always make you believe they are friends.

    It all seems so exciting in fiction, all the intrigue and power plays. What an absolute nightmare it would be to live through. All that power and wealth, but no true security. Living in a hornet’s nest constantly trying to keep ahead of the devious machinations of those around you. All this before you even begin dealing with all the outside threats. I know the peasants lived knee high in shit, but the grass aint necessarily greener in the tower.

    The ruler may well have the power of life and death over their subjects, but one false move can bring the whole façade undone. Many a backstabber will try and fail. Many an iron hand king who ruled by fear has wound up being fed to the angry mob. As has a benevolent one too, sadly, I’m sure.

    A lot of what the emperor does, seemingly of their own free will, is a forced move. Maybe it is to appease the populous, or someone who may hold a lot of sway with them. It may be a pre-emptive attack to thwart a suspected coup. Or it could be a purely defensive move to gain a little breathing space.

    The fucked-up thing for me is the never knowing. You evaluate the situation, you make a move and you can never be sure if you made the right decision. You create enemies and corpses, and you will be forever ignorant if they were truly friend or foe.

    These are just my assumptions or course, but a ruler who gets on the wrong side of his court and/or subjects better be fucken scary and have eyes in the back of their head. If not, he may well lose that head.

    A lunatic or a fool may be tolerated by the powers that be for the same reason the child emperor is: they are easy to control. Start getting too big for your boots though and get ready for a rude surprise.

    So yeah, empires hey? At first glance it’s easy to tell who’s in charge, but you never really know.

  • CORPORATE CONFUSION: The New Economy

    Let us assume that neither utopia nor dystopia are on the cards for us working slobs. We are not going to work 1 or 2 hours a week and live lives of convenience and leisure. We hopefully are not going to live in a future with unprecedented poverty and unemployment; where there are only three classes: the appalling poverty of the 90% and the ludicrously rich 1%. The other 9% will be needed to serve and protect the 1%. Not a great life, but you get room and board. I mean surely the billionaire class wouldn’t just abandon us in pursuit of their own interests. Right? Right?

    Anyway, for most of us, we are only focused on next week’s pay, so we can afford to live and maybe have a little fun. This is where the big question mark is. How do the ‘workers’ make themselves useful (in a profit driven world sense) when their job is made redundant?

    This is not the first time in human history that a massive innovation decimated an industry or even an economy. One thing we humans are good at is adapting. Creating innovations that could improve livelihoods? I would again say yes. It’s just that something usually happens after this point where things fuck up. The advantages of the innovation are offset by a whole new problem stemming, directly or indirectly from the very invention/s that were going to liberate us all. A bunch of other threads sprouting from that idea.

    Back to this point, machines are replacing human labour at an unprecedented velocity. It’s not just the menial tasks anymore. These gizmos are popping up in almost every sector and level of the workforce. Those jobs we all hate are disappearing.

    “But A.I. is a wonder! It can do things you never thought possible. Yeah, like make me admit I wanna keep my job.”

     Scott Seiss

    The next Industrial Revolution is upon us people. While we are not farmers flocking to the cities, we are heading for a huge shake-up. People aren’t just losing their jobs; those jobs are vanishing. Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a ‘printing industry’. A huge chunk of that information, entertainment and gossip consumed on the internet once had to printed into paper, magazine or book format. Then shipped, sorted, delivered and sold in stores.

    That’s a shit load of jobs (many very specialized) and businesses where the demand has all-but dried up. Many of the less specific job skills were easily transferable and a lot of the ‘talent’ made the switch to digital media, but still, a huge swathe, was gouged out of a once booming industry.

    A person loading paper into a machine can sell their labour for some other humdrum job. Forklift and truck driving are applicable to numerous industries, but what about the people who dedicated years to learning the trade of printing? Colour mixing, machine maintenance, adjustment and repair. See ya.

    A similar reshuffle is happening in numerous industries right now. You work as a cashier at a supermarket or fast-food chain. See ya. You can apply somewhere else, but the supply of applicants is now way outstripping demand, and we already have enough people working in the kitchen. Although we are always looking for ways to get rid of those deadshits (I mean to increase efficiency in the kitchen) by using machines too.

    Of course, these automatic cashiers and any other machines need to be maintained and repaired, so there are new jobs there. Obviously not as many and requiring a higher skill level, so jobseekers are still behind.

    Supermarkets are an interesting petri dish. The checkout staff are gone; or now 1 or 2 are monitoring the line of automated cahiers rather than having one per counter. However, a surge in home delivery services has opened a new demand for workers to perform different tasks. Now they need staff to do the shopping for the online customers and people to deliver it. Certainly not glamourous, but neither was being a cashier, I guess.

    This whole ‘gig economy’ seems very shifty to me. U%$r drivers instead of taxis, food delivery services. This trick of fobbing all the overheads off onto the, I don’t even know that they’re called! They certainly aren’t sub-contractors. Ticking the ‘agree to terms’ box on an App is very different from a legally binding contract signed by a company and a subby. Isn’t it? Isn’t it?

    Your vehicle $$$ Your petrol, gas, electricity $$$ Your insurance $$$

    No holiday or sick pay.

    Welcome to the hidden expense of owning a business.

    Those insipid fucken commercials telling you how easy it is to do this work.

    “I can choose my own hours”

    “I am my own boss”

    Well, you better be a hard ass slave driver of a boss if you want to earn a living wage! People lazing about, playing guitars at home on the commercials; that better be your parents’ home because you aren’t gunna make the rent fart arsing around like that! Futuristic utopia this is not. Working 1 or 2 hours a week in this trade will lead to destitution.

    “I get paid to listen to my favourite music”

    “What are you a DJ?”

    “No. I deliver packages for A*&^n”

    Apparently delivering packages around the city with a strict quota and deadline is the same as taking a leisurely cruise down the coast. You get paid per delivery by the way, not by the hour, and not much either. Remember all your expenses come out of that money. If you fail to meet any quotas or other standards you can be cut off immediately. Fuck you and fuck your bills!

    There’s no boss’s office to enter and plead your case. You are now in digital purgatory looking for where to even attempt an appeal. Things are moving backwards if this is the direction we are going.

    Well, I’m bummed out, how about you?

  • WAS DANIEL LARUSSO SUFFERING FROM PTSD IN THE KARATE KID 3? Movie Musings #9

    The Karate Kid 2 was a great sequel, especially with the deleted ending of the original making such an awesome opening. Daniel travels to Okinawa with Mr Miyagi and continues his training in Magic Karate (don’t laugh, a lot of us thought it was possible at the time). The paternalistic relationship between the two grows and Mr Miyagi’s encouragement and training helps Daniel develop into a good man. Note the shot of Mr Miyagi grinning proudly after Daniels’ victory at the end of both films; that ‘I knew you could do it’ joy.

    The sequel presents Daniel with a new love interest (Kumiko) and, more importantly for the film, a new and more dangerous antagonist. Chozen is even more fanatical than Johnny was and relishes his rivalry with the American. Chozen is also trained in Magic Karate and will be a much more formidable opponent. The stakes have been raised.

    For that extra special spicy hit Chozen goes full psycho before the final confrontation and threatens to kill Kumiko unless Daniel agrees to fight him to the death. Shit just got real! Daniel must also remove the small bridge that would provide a path for assistance from Mr Miyagi or anyone else. Chozen does not want to be interrupted while he beats this American ‘coward’ to death.

    A great moment in the fight is when Daniel tries the signature swan kick/attack or whatever that is. Chozen deflects it with ease. However, I seem to recall Mr Miyagi saying something along the lines of “if done properly, impossible to defend”. Does that mean Chozen shouldn’t be able to defend against it even if he knows it too? Or maybe Daniel just fucked it up because he was shitting himself.

    Anyway, Daniel wins and we get the hilarious callback to the opening scene and that warm glowing face of the proud mentor. Great!

    Well, they must have made a nice chunk of money, cause the third instalment wasn’t far off. A great story idea revolving around a devastated John Creese, a shell of his former self, unable to deal with his defeat. An old Vietnam War buddy (Terry Silver) who was very wealthy and owed Creese his life arrives and is determined to revive his saviour and mentor.

    They come up with a plot to psychologically destroy Daniel. They didn’t really have the cajónes to take Mr Miyagi on directly, so they decided to get him through his student. I must say I suspected that Terry Silver was going to be some kind of Karate badass, so I was doubly surprised when Mr Miyagi made short work of him and Creese at the same time.

    The antagonist this time around? Mike Barnes, Karate bad boy; basically, a new level of Johnny from the original. More aggressive, more skilled. Herein lies the problem for me. This guy is clearly more dangerous than Johhny, but Chozen?

    Not only that, but Daniel will be fighting Barnes in a tournament much like the one he won in the first film. Chozen was a fucken death match! It feels like they got the sequels mixed up here.

    It’s kind of like Rocky beats Appollo in the 2nd film and in Rocky 3 he faces Ivan Drago. Rocky 4 feels like a step down. Yeah, Clubber Lang was a “wrecking machine”, but Drago?

    “Whatever he hits he destroys”

    “If he dies, he dies”

    Fighting in Cold War Russia!

    I get that Terry Silver messes with Daniels’ head and pulls the rug out from under him and that would have destabilized him. I just don’t buy that he would be that frightened of fighting a nasty opponent at a tournament after all the challenges he had already overcome.

    On top of that in a bid to turn Daniel against Mr Miyagi Terry teaches a very brutal and ruthless style of Karate. The kind of stuff a character like Barnes would study. Was this supposed to be some kind of reverse psychology? I’ll teach this kid with good Karate skills the tricks of the bad boy trade and when he finds out I’m actually mates with his nemesis he will crumble. Nah.

    Unless…

    What if Daniel was so traumatized by having to fight a death match in Okinawa against an accomplished nutter that…

    Nah.