Hello dear blog readers
The sad news is that I am going to have to leave this blog for some time. I'm starting a new job where blogs are frowned upon, especially ones that are considered to be commentary on the world around us. But I know I'll be back - so hang in there.
In the meantime I have posted three of my favourite columns from last year. I hope you enjoy them.
Till next time.
R
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The Human Spirit Under Fire
From Business Day's MsManagement, December 2008
THIS is my last column for the year. By the time this column appears again next year, a number of my colleagues at various publishing houses may be out of a job.
At Primedia (which owns the likes of 702 Talk Radio and Highveld Stereo) there’s a hiring freeze, no end-of-year parties and little or no bonuses. At Avusa (the company I work for) bonuses have been cut, all entertainment and travel expenses have been wiped out, but as yet there’s no serious talk of retrenchment.
But over at Naspers, with publications such as Beeld and Rapport, the letters for voluntary retrenchment have gone out and if 20% or more of the staff don’t take those packages, then some will be getting the chop on January 5. Lovely timing, don’t you think?
But the company that really takes the cake has got to be Independent Newspapers. I should declare that I worked for this company for eight years. It runs titles such as the Star, the Cape Times, Business Report and the Pretoria News. Last week it sent out letters offering certain production staff voluntary retrenchment. At the same time the news broke that one of Independent’s best writers, Jeremy Gordin, had been retrenched. Gordin is an experienced political reporter and he writes like a dream. You’d think that he’s just the kind of person you’d want to hold on to in tough times because he’s the kind of writer that keeps readers interested, but no, the talk is he was axed because he’s expensive.
This kind of shortsighted thinking on the part of management was evidenced again in the retrenchment letters that Independent sent out to staff across the country. The company wants to amalgamate its production people so that instead of having specialists working on specialist titles such as Business Report, it will have one long production line with financial copy editors struggling with sports articles and senior copy editors being demoted to mere cogs in the wheel.
From those copy editors (also known in SA as sub-editors) Independent wants to get rid of 15 of the most senior of them in Gauteng alone. In Durban and Cape Town, another four or five of the most senior people must go.
Junior staff are not up for the chop because they’re cheaper to employ. And Independent’s overabundance of extremely senior staff, who hide in wood-panelled offices up on the top floors and appear to do very little, are certainly not facing retrenchment.
The message being sent out is that the quality of the papers is expendable. A newspaper, it would appear, has become a fast-moving consumer good, not much different from a can of baked beans.
The old hacks may sneer at my idealism in thinking that a paper is anything more than a consumable, but dammit, why shouldn’t we be idealistic about the press, that vital pillar of our democracy?
Why shouldn’t we expect the papers that we read every day to strive to give us the best news, the best writers, the best pictures, the best designs?
And why shouldn’t anyone expect that, if you work hard and get to the top of your game and put up with the good and the bad from the company you work for, you’ll be rewarded for it rather than kicked out because you tried too hard to do well?
It’s this kind of rubbish that breaks the human spirit. It’s this kind of mismanagement that destroys newspapers and companies and reputations.
During the year I have spoken to countless businesses in SA about job losses and how to deal with the economic downturn and there are three main ways that they have viewed the situation.
Some have said it’s now that you need to keep your best staff — while others downsize, the bullish types can take market share and be well positioned for the upturn.
Option two was to do with allowing natural attrition to slim the head count for at least the past six months and using training programmes to re-skill certain staff and redeploy them into other areas of the business.
Option three was carefully thought through retrenchments that were often started well before December and involved departments that would not impact on the business’s ability to offer customers the best service possible.
As you’ll notice, Independent’s strategy doesn’t appear to fall into any of the above categories.
Part of the problem may be that Independent answers to bosses in the UK and, with the rand having weakened, those bosses want their returns even if it means hacking the local company to pieces. Independent may be a prime example of how not to run a sustainable business.
So this month I’m going to worry about my friends at other publications; I’m going to worry about the future of journalism in SA; I’m going to worry that too many companies have learnt nothing about survival; I’m going to worry that yet again people have become the expendable components in a downturn; I’m going to worry that all the talk about social responsibility and sustainability means nothing when cash flows are tight; I’m going to worry that companies use and abuse their staff and that, even with our progressive labour laws, it never seems to stop; I’m going to worry that despite the world suffering through a tough year together, we’ve come no closer to finding a collective solution that helps people rather than hurts them.
On that note I’m not so sure I can wish you a happy holiday.
But I do wish you health, wealth and prosperity.
Till next time.
THIS is my last column for the year. By the time this column appears again next year, a number of my colleagues at various publishing houses may be out of a job.
At Primedia (which owns the likes of 702 Talk Radio and Highveld Stereo) there’s a hiring freeze, no end-of-year parties and little or no bonuses. At Avusa (the company I work for) bonuses have been cut, all entertainment and travel expenses have been wiped out, but as yet there’s no serious talk of retrenchment.
But over at Naspers, with publications such as Beeld and Rapport, the letters for voluntary retrenchment have gone out and if 20% or more of the staff don’t take those packages, then some will be getting the chop on January 5. Lovely timing, don’t you think?
But the company that really takes the cake has got to be Independent Newspapers. I should declare that I worked for this company for eight years. It runs titles such as the Star, the Cape Times, Business Report and the Pretoria News. Last week it sent out letters offering certain production staff voluntary retrenchment. At the same time the news broke that one of Independent’s best writers, Jeremy Gordin, had been retrenched. Gordin is an experienced political reporter and he writes like a dream. You’d think that he’s just the kind of person you’d want to hold on to in tough times because he’s the kind of writer that keeps readers interested, but no, the talk is he was axed because he’s expensive.
This kind of shortsighted thinking on the part of management was evidenced again in the retrenchment letters that Independent sent out to staff across the country. The company wants to amalgamate its production people so that instead of having specialists working on specialist titles such as Business Report, it will have one long production line with financial copy editors struggling with sports articles and senior copy editors being demoted to mere cogs in the wheel.
From those copy editors (also known in SA as sub-editors) Independent wants to get rid of 15 of the most senior of them in Gauteng alone. In Durban and Cape Town, another four or five of the most senior people must go.
Junior staff are not up for the chop because they’re cheaper to employ. And Independent’s overabundance of extremely senior staff, who hide in wood-panelled offices up on the top floors and appear to do very little, are certainly not facing retrenchment.
The message being sent out is that the quality of the papers is expendable. A newspaper, it would appear, has become a fast-moving consumer good, not much different from a can of baked beans.
The old hacks may sneer at my idealism in thinking that a paper is anything more than a consumable, but dammit, why shouldn’t we be idealistic about the press, that vital pillar of our democracy?
Why shouldn’t we expect the papers that we read every day to strive to give us the best news, the best writers, the best pictures, the best designs?
And why shouldn’t anyone expect that, if you work hard and get to the top of your game and put up with the good and the bad from the company you work for, you’ll be rewarded for it rather than kicked out because you tried too hard to do well?
It’s this kind of rubbish that breaks the human spirit. It’s this kind of mismanagement that destroys newspapers and companies and reputations.
During the year I have spoken to countless businesses in SA about job losses and how to deal with the economic downturn and there are three main ways that they have viewed the situation.
Some have said it’s now that you need to keep your best staff — while others downsize, the bullish types can take market share and be well positioned for the upturn.
Option two was to do with allowing natural attrition to slim the head count for at least the past six months and using training programmes to re-skill certain staff and redeploy them into other areas of the business.
Option three was carefully thought through retrenchments that were often started well before December and involved departments that would not impact on the business’s ability to offer customers the best service possible.
As you’ll notice, Independent’s strategy doesn’t appear to fall into any of the above categories.
Part of the problem may be that Independent answers to bosses in the UK and, with the rand having weakened, those bosses want their returns even if it means hacking the local company to pieces. Independent may be a prime example of how not to run a sustainable business.
So this month I’m going to worry about my friends at other publications; I’m going to worry about the future of journalism in SA; I’m going to worry that too many companies have learnt nothing about survival; I’m going to worry that yet again people have become the expendable components in a downturn; I’m going to worry that all the talk about social responsibility and sustainability means nothing when cash flows are tight; I’m going to worry that companies use and abuse their staff and that, even with our progressive labour laws, it never seems to stop; I’m going to worry that despite the world suffering through a tough year together, we’ve come no closer to finding a collective solution that helps people rather than hurts them.
On that note I’m not so sure I can wish you a happy holiday.
But I do wish you health, wealth and prosperity.
Till next time.
Market Crises and Goldfish
From Business Day's MsManagement, October 2008
I HAVE a goldfish called Fred. He, or she — one can never be sure — is a happy fish. He leaps about when I get home and even flings himself against the side of his tank with glee. I tell myself he’s pleased to see me, but he probably just wants to be fed. He’s a fish after all. And if research is to be believed, Fred only has a three-second memory.
But before anyone reckons that the human race is superior to a goldfish, I’d like to point out that, in relative terms, markets have a three-second memory too.
As the global financial meltdown continues, we have all manner of people flinging themselves dramatically against the side of the bowl. The little bubbles emerging from their mouths contain such gems as “It’s never been this bad before”, “It’s the end of capitalism”, “Everything’s irrational”, “It’s impossible to predict the future”, “Maybe SA will cut rates”, and “Let’s follow China’s example instead.”
And just as you have to be suspicious of a goldfish that gets all amorous at feeding time, you have to be wary of the emotions coming out of a market during a crisis. Because a lot of what’s being said is fatuous and ill-informed and goes a long way to proving that human beings have a horribly short attention span.
Let’s start with the statement that “it’s never been this bad before”. That’s just wrong.
Remember the dotcom crash? We said the same thing then. Human beings have a need to imbue the present with calamity and meaning.
Remember those fateful planes flying into the World Trade Centre ? That was also billed as the worst thing ever — the New York Stock Exchange closed down for an unprecedented three days.
And that’s just what has happened in the past decade. In the market crashes of 1929 and 1987, exchanges dropped almost 30% of their value in just one day. By comparison, the JSE and other bourses around the world have taken more than six months to drop that much this year.
Further, in the 1929 crash there were no regulators and few bail-out packages. Some investors lost everything. To me, that seems worse than the turmoil we’re living through, but our goldfish-like attention to the present precludes a perspective on the past. And that’s dangerous because forgetting the past encourages panic in the here and now.
As for the global financial crisis signalling the end of capitalism — yeah, right. Since markets started trading, as far back as the 1500s, there have been attendant collapses. None of those collapses has changed the world order. Why? Because behind every bulging pair of fish eyes, there lives fear and greed. Despite themselves, investors know that risk and reward are closely interlinked and she who plays the market does so with the understanding that you can lose everything, but you can also make a killing. There may be a lot of yelling when the losses outweigh the gains, but in reality investors are swimming about, hungry to be fed again by the great engine of capitalism.
Along with this cycle you get the outrage about the huge bonuses paid to the bankers whose institutions have now fallen apart. That’s also part of the three-second-memory syndrome.
In good times, people fearlessly defend ridiculous levels of pay, forgetting that bad times are inevitable and that extreme pay will look inappropriate when the cycle turns.
During the meltdowns, investors froth at the mouth about huge pay packages, forgetting that in a few years’ time the lucky CEO who gets to oversee the upturn will be paid even more. At that time the bulk of the goldfish will merely nod in approval because they’ll be getting their fish flakes too.
As for SA suddenly cutting interest rates, it’s just not going to happen. We’ll know by this afternoon . Though it would not be unprecedented, it’s highly unlikely.
Let’s go back to basics, if anyone is able to focus for a bit more than three seconds. The central bank in SA targets inflation. Inflation is high. Cutting rates could push inflation even higher. And that’s a chance the central bank will not take.
As for those who think markets are irrational and the future is unpredictable — well, that’s nothing new. Markets are always a bit irrational and no one has ever been able to predict the future. Except maybe Nostradamus, and he’s never been much help to investors, let alone goldfish.
When it comes to following China’s lead — what? Do we want a blend of capitalism and communism that at its heart means executing people who won’t work in sweatshops or who disagree with the state? Maybe Julius Malema, our esteemed Youth League leader, would like it (because he’s a bit of a piranha), but for those of us who believe in democracy and free markets, the idea that China has got it right is unpalatable.
But if we try to look beyond our rather cloudy fish tanks, what is it that we might see? In the short term, there will be more banking collapses. But there will also be more government intervention. Markets will be crazy and volatile for at least another year. In the medium term we will have hit the bottom of the bowl and a sense of calm will return.
In the long term, maybe five years from now, markets will be trending upwards again and irrational exuberance will emerge. We’ll think we’ve never had it so good. And we’ll be wrong, but we’ll be fat, happy fish again. Because we may suffer from memory loss, but we’re pretty good at surviving
I HAVE a goldfish called Fred. He, or she — one can never be sure — is a happy fish. He leaps about when I get home and even flings himself against the side of his tank with glee. I tell myself he’s pleased to see me, but he probably just wants to be fed. He’s a fish after all. And if research is to be believed, Fred only has a three-second memory.
But before anyone reckons that the human race is superior to a goldfish, I’d like to point out that, in relative terms, markets have a three-second memory too.
As the global financial meltdown continues, we have all manner of people flinging themselves dramatically against the side of the bowl. The little bubbles emerging from their mouths contain such gems as “It’s never been this bad before”, “It’s the end of capitalism”, “Everything’s irrational”, “It’s impossible to predict the future”, “Maybe SA will cut rates”, and “Let’s follow China’s example instead.”
And just as you have to be suspicious of a goldfish that gets all amorous at feeding time, you have to be wary of the emotions coming out of a market during a crisis. Because a lot of what’s being said is fatuous and ill-informed and goes a long way to proving that human beings have a horribly short attention span.
Let’s start with the statement that “it’s never been this bad before”. That’s just wrong.
Remember the dotcom crash? We said the same thing then. Human beings have a need to imbue the present with calamity and meaning.
Remember those fateful planes flying into the World Trade Centre ? That was also billed as the worst thing ever — the New York Stock Exchange closed down for an unprecedented three days.
And that’s just what has happened in the past decade. In the market crashes of 1929 and 1987, exchanges dropped almost 30% of their value in just one day. By comparison, the JSE and other bourses around the world have taken more than six months to drop that much this year.
Further, in the 1929 crash there were no regulators and few bail-out packages. Some investors lost everything. To me, that seems worse than the turmoil we’re living through, but our goldfish-like attention to the present precludes a perspective on the past. And that’s dangerous because forgetting the past encourages panic in the here and now.
As for the global financial crisis signalling the end of capitalism — yeah, right. Since markets started trading, as far back as the 1500s, there have been attendant collapses. None of those collapses has changed the world order. Why? Because behind every bulging pair of fish eyes, there lives fear and greed. Despite themselves, investors know that risk and reward are closely interlinked and she who plays the market does so with the understanding that you can lose everything, but you can also make a killing. There may be a lot of yelling when the losses outweigh the gains, but in reality investors are swimming about, hungry to be fed again by the great engine of capitalism.
Along with this cycle you get the outrage about the huge bonuses paid to the bankers whose institutions have now fallen apart. That’s also part of the three-second-memory syndrome.
In good times, people fearlessly defend ridiculous levels of pay, forgetting that bad times are inevitable and that extreme pay will look inappropriate when the cycle turns.
During the meltdowns, investors froth at the mouth about huge pay packages, forgetting that in a few years’ time the lucky CEO who gets to oversee the upturn will be paid even more. At that time the bulk of the goldfish will merely nod in approval because they’ll be getting their fish flakes too.
As for SA suddenly cutting interest rates, it’s just not going to happen. We’ll know by this afternoon . Though it would not be unprecedented, it’s highly unlikely.
Let’s go back to basics, if anyone is able to focus for a bit more than three seconds. The central bank in SA targets inflation. Inflation is high. Cutting rates could push inflation even higher. And that’s a chance the central bank will not take.
As for those who think markets are irrational and the future is unpredictable — well, that’s nothing new. Markets are always a bit irrational and no one has ever been able to predict the future. Except maybe Nostradamus, and he’s never been much help to investors, let alone goldfish.
When it comes to following China’s lead — what? Do we want a blend of capitalism and communism that at its heart means executing people who won’t work in sweatshops or who disagree with the state? Maybe Julius Malema, our esteemed Youth League leader, would like it (because he’s a bit of a piranha), but for those of us who believe in democracy and free markets, the idea that China has got it right is unpalatable.
But if we try to look beyond our rather cloudy fish tanks, what is it that we might see? In the short term, there will be more banking collapses. But there will also be more government intervention. Markets will be crazy and volatile for at least another year. In the medium term we will have hit the bottom of the bowl and a sense of calm will return.
In the long term, maybe five years from now, markets will be trending upwards again and irrational exuberance will emerge. We’ll think we’ve never had it so good. And we’ll be wrong, but we’ll be fat, happy fish again. Because we may suffer from memory loss, but we’re pretty good at surviving
Trevor's Big Day Out
From Business Day's MsManagement, February 2008
12.14am — Finally got Lesetja off the phone. It’s great he’s so eager but all his moaning about the grammar in my speech is getting me down. I wanted to say “I have done this before, you know” but managed to stop myself.
12.21am — Sudden thought — is this my last budget? That’s what the press keep saying. Do they know something I don’t know? Ag, I’ll think about it later. Although … I do rather like the World Bank; wonder if they got that CV I sent …?
12.43am — Can’t sleep. Bloody Terry Crawford-Browne. That bloody arms deal.
1.34am — Just got kicked out of bed by Maria for tossing and turning too much … I’m heading for the couch; hope the dog will move over.
3.57am — Woke up with a start. Dreamt it was budget day and I’d forgotten to prepare one. Then I thought it must be morning and started cursing Eskom for it being so dark until I realised the light switches were actually working.
3.59am — Speaking of Eskom, I still can’t believe I have to shake up my beautiful budget to save Eskom’s ass. Just the thought of a deficit makes my stomach churn. Bloody Eskom.
6am — Alarm woke me up. As did the dog licking my ear. Must shower.
6.45am — Breakfast with Maria. How come she’s so chirpy? My hands are sweaty and it’s not so easy to eat. Maybe I’ll calm down if I just read the papers.
6.50am — Bloody papers. Now I feel really ill. Half of what they’ve predicted isn’t in the budget. Should it have been? Nah … but will they nail me for leaving out all sorts of issues? Probably. Bloody journalists.
7am — Sweet relief — here comes my car to take me away to the budget lock-up where I get to talk about my favourite things.
7.06am — Drove back to the house — forgot the budget speech.
7.30am — Ha ha — the journalists are looking a bit bedraggled. Probably been up all night drinking. Except for the nerdy ones. The nerdy ones keep flashing their teeth at me and asking complicated questions in the hope that I’ll think they’re clever. Poor sods.
9.32am — Tired. I’m so tired of talking about this damn budget and I haven’t even given the speech yet. I’d go for a walk to clear my head if only the bodyguards would let me out the door.
10.44am — Okay, that’s it. I’m out of here. The nerdy ones look all sad behind their thick spectacles.
11.16am — Just got hold of my budget day gift co-ordinator — you know, the person who has organised the gifts in Parliament like the fruit and the cacti? — and she says they’ve hit a snag and may not be able to deliver today’s surprise gift to the MPs on time. I don’t know what the hell I’m meant to do with that. I can hardly pop down to the closest Woolies and order something stupid like 250 ice-crushers, now can I? Maybe everyone should have just gotten a solar-powered head torch. Or a replica of a little toilet, given the way the markets have been going. Think, Trevor, think.
11.20am — Solved problem by yelling a bit and asking the budget day gift co-ordinator if she knew who I was.
11.45am — Called my Xhosa teacher. I just can’t seem to get my clicks right in the speech this year. It doesn’t help that I’ve got to smile while I click.
12.15pm — Light lunch. Still can’t eat. I really want a whisky but if anyone smells it on my breath there’ll be all sorts of Manto jokes. Bloody Manto.
12.34pm — Maria called. She asked if I’d brushed my hair. What hair? Thinks she’s a comedian on today of all days.
12.56pm — Called Parliament to ask if the back-up generators were in place. Apparently they are, but there’s only enough diesel for 30 minutes. If the lights go out at the beginning, I’m going to have to speed up the speech. Maybe I should get my own head torch. Hmmm.
13.14pm — Set out on foot for my rather heroic-looking entrance into Parliament.
13.16pm — Ran back to the office — forgot the budget speech.
13.33pm — Straightened my tie smugly — it’s a different colour every year so the press can’t use old pictures. Then walked confidently through the cheering crowds. Today, I am The Man. And it feels good.
13.41pm — I was The Man till it hit me that no one was going to like my speech. Except me.
13.55pm — Washed sweaty hands one last time. Must remember to wave them around in there. I have good hands.
14.01pm — Oh lord, here we go.
16.05pm — You know what? I am The Man.
12.14am — Finally got Lesetja off the phone. It’s great he’s so eager but all his moaning about the grammar in my speech is getting me down. I wanted to say “I have done this before, you know” but managed to stop myself.
12.21am — Sudden thought — is this my last budget? That’s what the press keep saying. Do they know something I don’t know? Ag, I’ll think about it later. Although … I do rather like the World Bank; wonder if they got that CV I sent …?
12.43am — Can’t sleep. Bloody Terry Crawford-Browne. That bloody arms deal.
1.34am — Just got kicked out of bed by Maria for tossing and turning too much … I’m heading for the couch; hope the dog will move over.
3.57am — Woke up with a start. Dreamt it was budget day and I’d forgotten to prepare one. Then I thought it must be morning and started cursing Eskom for it being so dark until I realised the light switches were actually working.
3.59am — Speaking of Eskom, I still can’t believe I have to shake up my beautiful budget to save Eskom’s ass. Just the thought of a deficit makes my stomach churn. Bloody Eskom.
6am — Alarm woke me up. As did the dog licking my ear. Must shower.
6.45am — Breakfast with Maria. How come she’s so chirpy? My hands are sweaty and it’s not so easy to eat. Maybe I’ll calm down if I just read the papers.
6.50am — Bloody papers. Now I feel really ill. Half of what they’ve predicted isn’t in the budget. Should it have been? Nah … but will they nail me for leaving out all sorts of issues? Probably. Bloody journalists.
7am — Sweet relief — here comes my car to take me away to the budget lock-up where I get to talk about my favourite things.
7.06am — Drove back to the house — forgot the budget speech.
7.30am — Ha ha — the journalists are looking a bit bedraggled. Probably been up all night drinking. Except for the nerdy ones. The nerdy ones keep flashing their teeth at me and asking complicated questions in the hope that I’ll think they’re clever. Poor sods.
9.32am — Tired. I’m so tired of talking about this damn budget and I haven’t even given the speech yet. I’d go for a walk to clear my head if only the bodyguards would let me out the door.
10.44am — Okay, that’s it. I’m out of here. The nerdy ones look all sad behind their thick spectacles.
11.16am — Just got hold of my budget day gift co-ordinator — you know, the person who has organised the gifts in Parliament like the fruit and the cacti? — and she says they’ve hit a snag and may not be able to deliver today’s surprise gift to the MPs on time. I don’t know what the hell I’m meant to do with that. I can hardly pop down to the closest Woolies and order something stupid like 250 ice-crushers, now can I? Maybe everyone should have just gotten a solar-powered head torch. Or a replica of a little toilet, given the way the markets have been going. Think, Trevor, think.
11.20am — Solved problem by yelling a bit and asking the budget day gift co-ordinator if she knew who I was.
11.45am — Called my Xhosa teacher. I just can’t seem to get my clicks right in the speech this year. It doesn’t help that I’ve got to smile while I click.
12.15pm — Light lunch. Still can’t eat. I really want a whisky but if anyone smells it on my breath there’ll be all sorts of Manto jokes. Bloody Manto.
12.34pm — Maria called. She asked if I’d brushed my hair. What hair? Thinks she’s a comedian on today of all days.
12.56pm — Called Parliament to ask if the back-up generators were in place. Apparently they are, but there’s only enough diesel for 30 minutes. If the lights go out at the beginning, I’m going to have to speed up the speech. Maybe I should get my own head torch. Hmmm.
13.14pm — Set out on foot for my rather heroic-looking entrance into Parliament.
13.16pm — Ran back to the office — forgot the budget speech.
13.33pm — Straightened my tie smugly — it’s a different colour every year so the press can’t use old pictures. Then walked confidently through the cheering crowds. Today, I am The Man. And it feels good.
13.41pm — I was The Man till it hit me that no one was going to like my speech. Except me.
13.55pm — Washed sweaty hands one last time. Must remember to wave them around in there. I have good hands.
14.01pm — Oh lord, here we go.
16.05pm — You know what? I am The Man.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
10 things to do this December
With petrol prices still high, a bond bleeding you dry and food prices soaring, December holidays are looking a bit bleak. For many, the only option is to stay at home. So I've kindly compiled a list of things to do when you can't afford to go anywhere.
For those who live in Springs, Pofadder, Senekal and the like, I'm afraid you're just going to have to be bored. There is nothing to do and anyway, people shouldn't live in hick towns like those.
But, for those of you in city centres, there's hope.
1 - Your first, best option, of course, is to make more money quickly so you can go away. The best earners in the country are chief executives and strippers. For one job you can be overweight and hairy; for the other job you'd better be slim and smooth and know how to dance.
2 - If neither of the jobs above appeals to you, you'll be stuck in the city. But, buy enough cheap beer in quarts and you could spend the whole holiday not sure where you are.
3 - However, for those who value their livers, there's always the pantomime. It's loud, it's funny and you could end up on stage singing with the cast and all the five-year-olds who have rushed up on stage with you.
4 - Then there are the casinos. They'll be doing a roaring trade with sad, poor people just like you. Apart from potentially getting to meet lots of like-minded souls, you also stand a chance of winning some loot. But, it's a very slim chance you'll walk away a winner. It's far more likely you'll lose all your money and be worse off than when you started.
5 - For a more wholesome experience, you could always spend a day out at one of the dams nearby or at the seaside. Visitors to Hartebeespoort or the Vaal can peer out at the water watching the rich people on their jet skis. There's nothing like a bit of envy to make you want to earn more money next year. For those who live by the sea, it's going to be less depressing. Just remember to take your own umbrellas and food, because you won't be able to afford anything from the vendors.
6 - As for Christmas Day, I'd suggest a bring-and-braai. You should be able to stretch to some charcoal, firelighters and stale rolls. Just get the guests to supply the Lays chips, meat, booze, salads, potatoes and pudding and you're all set.
7 - As for New Year's Day, I'd suggest a bring-and-braai. You should be able to stretch to some charcoal, firelighters and stale rolls. Just get the guests to supply the Lays chips, meat, booze, salads, potatoes and pudding and you're all set.
8 - However, other people's New Year's celebrations are notoriously easy to gatecrash. Take your own beer, but remember to keep it hidden in your car so no one steals the precious stuff.
9 - Then there's always just staying at home. Alone. Watching SABC. I've heard they have a good programme or two once every couple of weeks.
10 - For truly sad people, who can't stomach the SABC, you could work over the holiday season and pretend you're the office martyr. Who knows, you might even pick up some overtime. Unfortunately, that won't do you any good, since you're trying to avoid having time off, but at least you can spend your days surfing salacious Internet sites with company bandwidth.
With this plethora of options now before you, you should be able to start planning for your holiday break. Just remember, when you're feeling blue, terribly trustworthy "experts" have said South Africa's economy will pick up again by September next year, which means that Christmas 2009 should be a lot more pleasant.
______________________________________________________
This column first appeared on ITWeb. You can find it at www.itweb.co.za
For those who live in Springs, Pofadder, Senekal and the like, I'm afraid you're just going to have to be bored. There is nothing to do and anyway, people shouldn't live in hick towns like those.
But, for those of you in city centres, there's hope.
1 - Your first, best option, of course, is to make more money quickly so you can go away. The best earners in the country are chief executives and strippers. For one job you can be overweight and hairy; for the other job you'd better be slim and smooth and know how to dance.
2 - If neither of the jobs above appeals to you, you'll be stuck in the city. But, buy enough cheap beer in quarts and you could spend the whole holiday not sure where you are.
3 - However, for those who value their livers, there's always the pantomime. It's loud, it's funny and you could end up on stage singing with the cast and all the five-year-olds who have rushed up on stage with you.
4 - Then there are the casinos. They'll be doing a roaring trade with sad, poor people just like you. Apart from potentially getting to meet lots of like-minded souls, you also stand a chance of winning some loot. But, it's a very slim chance you'll walk away a winner. It's far more likely you'll lose all your money and be worse off than when you started.
5 - For a more wholesome experience, you could always spend a day out at one of the dams nearby or at the seaside. Visitors to Hartebeespoort or the Vaal can peer out at the water watching the rich people on their jet skis. There's nothing like a bit of envy to make you want to earn more money next year. For those who live by the sea, it's going to be less depressing. Just remember to take your own umbrellas and food, because you won't be able to afford anything from the vendors.
6 - As for Christmas Day, I'd suggest a bring-and-braai. You should be able to stretch to some charcoal, firelighters and stale rolls. Just get the guests to supply the Lays chips, meat, booze, salads, potatoes and pudding and you're all set.
7 - As for New Year's Day, I'd suggest a bring-and-braai. You should be able to stretch to some charcoal, firelighters and stale rolls. Just get the guests to supply the Lays chips, meat, booze, salads, potatoes and pudding and you're all set.
8 - However, other people's New Year's celebrations are notoriously easy to gatecrash. Take your own beer, but remember to keep it hidden in your car so no one steals the precious stuff.
9 - Then there's always just staying at home. Alone. Watching SABC. I've heard they have a good programme or two once every couple of weeks.
10 - For truly sad people, who can't stomach the SABC, you could work over the holiday season and pretend you're the office martyr. Who knows, you might even pick up some overtime. Unfortunately, that won't do you any good, since you're trying to avoid having time off, but at least you can spend your days surfing salacious Internet sites with company bandwidth.
With this plethora of options now before you, you should be able to start planning for your holiday break. Just remember, when you're feeling blue, terribly trustworthy "experts" have said South Africa's economy will pick up again by September next year, which means that Christmas 2009 should be a lot more pleasant.
______________________________________________________
This column first appeared on ITWeb. You can find it at www.itweb.co.za
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Great Media Agenda
Very few people know this so I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourself, but the media does indeed have an agenda.
You’ll have heard politicians say so. The general public says so. Overpaid company executives say so. Hell, these days even our dear finance minister Trevor Manuel says so. So it must be true. The media has just never admitted to it before.
But here’s how it works.
Every morning, just after the sun rises, editors around the country have their first cigarette, get up, make coffee, scan the papers and then dial into the daily conference call. Didn’t know about that conference call, did you?
Well, everyone’s on it. The editor of “You”, the guy from “Playboy”, the head of “Jacaranda Radio”, some oke from the SABC (it’s hard to keep up with who it is because it changes every week) all the financial publications, all the radio dudes, all the television types, “Die Son”, “Die Kat”, “KTV”, “Farmers Weekly” – you name it there’s no part of the media too odd, too little or too irrelevant for that call because, you see, that’s when the great media agenda of the day is set.
And behind that agenda is a broader agenda. Briefly put, the broader agenda is to sow the seeds of negativity, depress the nation, cast doubt on all those who have authority, give credence to spurious rumours and gnaw away at the very fabric of society.
The daily agenda fits in with these goals and might include endless talk about gruesome crimes, politician-bashing, shit-stirring and bold-faced lying about everything.
Once the general tone for the day is in place, the editors wander in to their respective offices and attend the morning news meetings. At these meetings the agenda is never spoken about, but the editor will push people in the right direction even though they propose innocuous stories about nothing in particular. Said editor will put a spin and an angle on all story suggestions.
Then that editor has to control the news editors during the day. Because they can’t be openly spoken to about the great media agenda, it takes persuasion and threats to get them to fall into line.
Then there’s another secret, early afternoon conference call to check that all media are on track to cause the mayhem expected of them. Often the editors are a bit drunk after lunch – this only serves to make them more rabid about the task at hand.
Then later in the afternoon they have to keep checking that the reporters and the news editors are in sync and haven’t noticed that all their buddies in other parts of the media have been persuaded to cover exactly the same stories in exactly the same way.
Then it’s the afternoon news meeting, the selection of stories and the start of the night shift. Editors have to work incredibly hard to make sure all of the people involved keep their own ideas about what constitutes news far away from the office. You know those pesky night editors – when they think no one is looking they’d sell their grandmothers for drugs, which means they have no qualms about changing the entire production process and all of the stories and then blaming it on someone else.
What you probably didn’t know was that most editors have little spy cameras installed above the night editors in order to catch just such an event. They keep their beady eyes trained on the night editors until it’s safe to finally go to sleep.
But that, in a nutshell, is how the great media agenda is adhered to every day. It’s tough work, especially given that getting journalists to follow instruction is like trying to herd cats. And given that the bulk of the press are least organised people you could hope to meet, organising the agenda is no mean feat. But at least we have one and we’re very, very good at sticking to it. And that is why the world is a mess; why George W Bush is an idiot; why poor people are starving; why politicians are corrupt; why Bob Mugabe is mad; why you don’t earn enough money; why service is slow in restaurants; why petrol costs too much; why Jacob Zuma likes taking showers; why Mumbai went up in smoke; why the globe is in a recession; why Julius Malema is certifiably stupid; why banks are evil; why you always get pushed out of queues; why mobile phone companies charge too much; why a good cocktail has become unaffordable; why you never get the good parking space; why crime is rampant; why Kentucky Fried Chicken never tastes good any more.
It’s true! It’s all the media’s fault! And it’s thanks to the Great Media Agenda!
You’ll have heard politicians say so. The general public says so. Overpaid company executives say so. Hell, these days even our dear finance minister Trevor Manuel says so. So it must be true. The media has just never admitted to it before.
But here’s how it works.
Every morning, just after the sun rises, editors around the country have their first cigarette, get up, make coffee, scan the papers and then dial into the daily conference call. Didn’t know about that conference call, did you?
Well, everyone’s on it. The editor of “You”, the guy from “Playboy”, the head of “Jacaranda Radio”, some oke from the SABC (it’s hard to keep up with who it is because it changes every week) all the financial publications, all the radio dudes, all the television types, “Die Son”, “Die Kat”, “KTV”, “Farmers Weekly” – you name it there’s no part of the media too odd, too little or too irrelevant for that call because, you see, that’s when the great media agenda of the day is set.
And behind that agenda is a broader agenda. Briefly put, the broader agenda is to sow the seeds of negativity, depress the nation, cast doubt on all those who have authority, give credence to spurious rumours and gnaw away at the very fabric of society.
The daily agenda fits in with these goals and might include endless talk about gruesome crimes, politician-bashing, shit-stirring and bold-faced lying about everything.
Once the general tone for the day is in place, the editors wander in to their respective offices and attend the morning news meetings. At these meetings the agenda is never spoken about, but the editor will push people in the right direction even though they propose innocuous stories about nothing in particular. Said editor will put a spin and an angle on all story suggestions.
Then that editor has to control the news editors during the day. Because they can’t be openly spoken to about the great media agenda, it takes persuasion and threats to get them to fall into line.
Then there’s another secret, early afternoon conference call to check that all media are on track to cause the mayhem expected of them. Often the editors are a bit drunk after lunch – this only serves to make them more rabid about the task at hand.
Then later in the afternoon they have to keep checking that the reporters and the news editors are in sync and haven’t noticed that all their buddies in other parts of the media have been persuaded to cover exactly the same stories in exactly the same way.
Then it’s the afternoon news meeting, the selection of stories and the start of the night shift. Editors have to work incredibly hard to make sure all of the people involved keep their own ideas about what constitutes news far away from the office. You know those pesky night editors – when they think no one is looking they’d sell their grandmothers for drugs, which means they have no qualms about changing the entire production process and all of the stories and then blaming it on someone else.
What you probably didn’t know was that most editors have little spy cameras installed above the night editors in order to catch just such an event. They keep their beady eyes trained on the night editors until it’s safe to finally go to sleep.
But that, in a nutshell, is how the great media agenda is adhered to every day. It’s tough work, especially given that getting journalists to follow instruction is like trying to herd cats. And given that the bulk of the press are least organised people you could hope to meet, organising the agenda is no mean feat. But at least we have one and we’re very, very good at sticking to it. And that is why the world is a mess; why George W Bush is an idiot; why poor people are starving; why politicians are corrupt; why Bob Mugabe is mad; why you don’t earn enough money; why service is slow in restaurants; why petrol costs too much; why Jacob Zuma likes taking showers; why Mumbai went up in smoke; why the globe is in a recession; why Julius Malema is certifiably stupid; why banks are evil; why you always get pushed out of queues; why mobile phone companies charge too much; why a good cocktail has become unaffordable; why you never get the good parking space; why crime is rampant; why Kentucky Fried Chicken never tastes good any more.
It’s true! It’s all the media’s fault! And it’s thanks to the Great Media Agenda!
Friday, November 21, 2008
The meaning of business, the meaning of life
Either I’m a very sad fucker for equating the two, or there is a real connection. I’ll opt for the latter. For now.
But a quick look at any business paper will have the cheeriest of people depressed in no time. Automakers are faltering, company profits are being slashed, workers worldwide are being retrenched, financial markets are falling, and stimulus package after stimulus package has done little to staunch the bloodletting. Everything has turned sour at the same time.
But take yourself back to happier times, times when corporate earnings were soaring, commodity prices were stratospheric and everyone was expanding everywhere. How, you’ve got to wonder, did it all go so wrong?
Well, I think there’s a lesson we all forgot. Remember back to when you had yet to get your first real job. The thought of a halfway decent paycheck made one quite giddy. What, you probably wondered, would you do with all that money? Saving some of it looked incredibly easy. And at first it was – because your expenses were probably small. The trick, I once knew, was making sure my expenses never rose to meet or engulf my basic salary.
For a few years that worked, but then there were cars and mobiles and expensive holidays and insurance and medical aid and investments and houses to look after. I should have said “Expenses, meet salary” by way of introduction. Once the first greeting was done, it was all downhill. Expenses ate up salary like a hungry whore after a long night’s work.
Now I’m left dreaming of those simpler days and wondering how I could have been so stupid as to let expenses have their wicked way.
So it is in business. Companies like Citigroup thought endless expansion was prudent. The evil bastards in the Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries thought the oil price would never fall back to the $50 a barrel level. Automakers thought there was infinite demand for cars. Companies thought profit could grow every year.
How on earth did they all get so stupid? The simplistic answer would be greed. But I think delusion and pure foolishness played a role.
Imagine if Opec had decided that the fundamental value of a barrel of oil was $50 and said that any profit over and above that would be saved cleverly for a rainy day. Imagine if Citigroup had decided that no matter how good times got, it would always run a very lean operation. Imagine if automakers had decided that it was ridiculous to suggest that everyone in a country should have a new car every year. Imagine if companies had curtailed their expansion plans and realised that a certain level of profit was the base level and it should never count on making more.
This kind of thinking would have led to the accumulation of huge cash piles and a lessening of foolhardy ideas about business cycles that go everlastingly upwards. Now then, any clever financial advisor will tell you that sitting on piles of cash is not “efficient”. Bullshit. If everyone had large cash piles right now there wouldn’t be a credit crunch. And sure, maybe that cash wouldn’t have grown very fast and it would have been taxed, but at least it would still exist.
I don’t really understand business’ constant urge to get bigger and bigger and richer and richer. Why does SABMiller have to keep on buying breweries? Why does Old Mutual have to go to China? When is it enough? What happened to running a good solid business that stays home and pays out a good dividend every six months?
All these parties are running on a treadmill and the viscous trainer that is market forces keeps turning up the speed dial. And what happens? Those players start falling off. In fact right now they’re being flung off the back of the treadmill with the propulsion of a jet plane, landing in scraggy heaps.
It would seem they forgot not to introduce expenses to profit. And I’m not suggesting that we immediately change the world order and implore business not to expand, nor run on that treadmill. But I am suggesting that we think about it. That we get a bit more real about the fundamental value of items from oil to cars to bottles of beer.
When enough is enough, then let’s save the rest rather than chasing the unattainable dream of infinite wealth and infinite growth. If we don’t do that, it’s only ever going to end badly.
But a quick look at any business paper will have the cheeriest of people depressed in no time. Automakers are faltering, company profits are being slashed, workers worldwide are being retrenched, financial markets are falling, and stimulus package after stimulus package has done little to staunch the bloodletting. Everything has turned sour at the same time.
But take yourself back to happier times, times when corporate earnings were soaring, commodity prices were stratospheric and everyone was expanding everywhere. How, you’ve got to wonder, did it all go so wrong?
Well, I think there’s a lesson we all forgot. Remember back to when you had yet to get your first real job. The thought of a halfway decent paycheck made one quite giddy. What, you probably wondered, would you do with all that money? Saving some of it looked incredibly easy. And at first it was – because your expenses were probably small. The trick, I once knew, was making sure my expenses never rose to meet or engulf my basic salary.
For a few years that worked, but then there were cars and mobiles and expensive holidays and insurance and medical aid and investments and houses to look after. I should have said “Expenses, meet salary” by way of introduction. Once the first greeting was done, it was all downhill. Expenses ate up salary like a hungry whore after a long night’s work.
Now I’m left dreaming of those simpler days and wondering how I could have been so stupid as to let expenses have their wicked way.
So it is in business. Companies like Citigroup thought endless expansion was prudent. The evil bastards in the Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries thought the oil price would never fall back to the $50 a barrel level. Automakers thought there was infinite demand for cars. Companies thought profit could grow every year.
How on earth did they all get so stupid? The simplistic answer would be greed. But I think delusion and pure foolishness played a role.
Imagine if Opec had decided that the fundamental value of a barrel of oil was $50 and said that any profit over and above that would be saved cleverly for a rainy day. Imagine if Citigroup had decided that no matter how good times got, it would always run a very lean operation. Imagine if automakers had decided that it was ridiculous to suggest that everyone in a country should have a new car every year. Imagine if companies had curtailed their expansion plans and realised that a certain level of profit was the base level and it should never count on making more.
This kind of thinking would have led to the accumulation of huge cash piles and a lessening of foolhardy ideas about business cycles that go everlastingly upwards. Now then, any clever financial advisor will tell you that sitting on piles of cash is not “efficient”. Bullshit. If everyone had large cash piles right now there wouldn’t be a credit crunch. And sure, maybe that cash wouldn’t have grown very fast and it would have been taxed, but at least it would still exist.
I don’t really understand business’ constant urge to get bigger and bigger and richer and richer. Why does SABMiller have to keep on buying breweries? Why does Old Mutual have to go to China? When is it enough? What happened to running a good solid business that stays home and pays out a good dividend every six months?
All these parties are running on a treadmill and the viscous trainer that is market forces keeps turning up the speed dial. And what happens? Those players start falling off. In fact right now they’re being flung off the back of the treadmill with the propulsion of a jet plane, landing in scraggy heaps.
It would seem they forgot not to introduce expenses to profit. And I’m not suggesting that we immediately change the world order and implore business not to expand, nor run on that treadmill. But I am suggesting that we think about it. That we get a bit more real about the fundamental value of items from oil to cars to bottles of beer.
When enough is enough, then let’s save the rest rather than chasing the unattainable dream of infinite wealth and infinite growth. If we don’t do that, it’s only ever going to end badly.
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