Tag: things i think about

Dishonesty is rife

I am on the hunt for a house in London. Unexpectedly, this is a full time job. I’ve been on the phone to agents all day, trolling websites, sending emails, and coordinating with my future house mates. House hunting is a surprisingly stressful activity. Your hopes get raised, then dashed, then raised, then dashed. If it happens enough times, you start thinking that you’re chasing a dream, that it’s not possible to find a four bedroom place in north-west London for less than £600 (A$1500) per week.

And I’ve only been at this for one day!

Hahaha… Well, I’ve extrapolated from what my friend, Judy, has told me. While I’ve been writing up my dissertation, she’s been looking for houses. We’ve got a month before crunch time but Judy’s been disappointed often enough that we’re reluctantly letting go of dreams of living in a non-dodgy neighbourhood.

Luckily for the team, now that I’m homeless and unemployed, I can reinvigorate the search with full time fervour and constant internet access.

Judy warned me of a nasty real estate ploy, which I’ve already fallen victim to about five times in my one day of house hunting. When you express interest in an advertised house, the agent calls back and invariably says, ‘That house you emailed about, it’s already gone. I do have another house, it’s just come on the market. It’s a great one, twice as expensive as the other one and in a completely different neighbourhood. You’ll love it.’

It’s difficult not to get defensive when you constantly have to say, ‘That’s too expensive for me,’ and being told, ‘You’ll never get anything for that amount in this area.’ I’ve got a tactic, though. I make it sound like me being cheap is me doing a favour for them. ‘I’m sorry, that’s out of my budget and I don’t want to waste your time with an inspection.’ Then, they end up thanking me and I feel like I’m nice and honest (not like them), rather than simply poor.

We have found a perfect house. It’s in our price range, it’s exactly where we want to live, it has the right number of bedrooms and bathrooms, and it’s already partly furnished. Better yet, the agent has contacted us (proving that the house does actually exist) and we’re now arranging to view it.

Fingers crossed that this works out, even if I do have to pay a few extra weeks of rent while I’m visiting home in Australia. I’m trying not to get prematurely attached to the house.

No wonder people go a bit crazy at auctions. I can empathise completely with the emotional pressure to spend whatever you have to so that you aren’t disappointed yet again, and don’t have to go back into the pool of home hunters.

Come to think of it, maybe this is also why people ‘settle’ for people who they’re not quite in love with.

Engineer: not what you think

There are some things about the UK that seem so ordinary to the natives that they never think to mention them. In fact, such things are becoming ordinary to me, too, so I’d better write them down before I forget how weird they are.

The street lights here are orange. In Australia (and presumably all the other countries I’ve visited because I hadn’t noticed differently), street lights use white light, or occasionally, slightly blue light. Maybe it was a yellowish white.

In England (don’t know about the rest of the country), they use sodium arc lamps, which are orange. I don’t like them. They don’t seem quite bright enough.

If you want to own a TV or watch TV on your PC, you need to buy a television licence. This is in addition to what you pay for a TV and costs about £135 a year. I believe it goes to fund the BBC.

The TV Licensing Authority is aggressive, like a debt collector. If you don’t have a TV licence, you can get threatening letters (‘If you don’t pay up, we’ll send our people along to search your house’). People tell me that the Licensing people drive around in vans equipped with special detectors that know whether or not you are watching TV illegally.

There is a High Street chemist (pharmacy, drugstore) chain called Boots. I think this is a silly name.

If you see a nice restaurant, there is a 50% chance that it belongs to a chain of restaurants. Those restaurants that look like once-offs are actually not. ‘Chain store’ and ‘quality’ are not mutually exclusive terms here.

Everyone uses cheques here. It feels old-fashioned. Back in Oz, if I needed to handle lots of money, usually I sent it electronically. Here, cheques are even used to paid small amounts, like £5 for a movie ticket. If you deposit a cheque, it takes almost a week to clear. If you transfer money electronically, it takes at least three days to get to the account. This country runs on slow. It drives my American friends nuts.

Street signs are stuck on buildings or walls instead of on poles at intersection corners. This makes signs difficult to find because you can’t predict where they will be or at what height or even what style of sign it will be (will it be a metal plate with old fashioned writing or a modern bright green label?). I wish they’d get some consistency.

For my first six months here, I assumed an engineer was an engineer. I see vans go by, which have written on them, ‘scaffolding engineer’, ‘air conditioning engineer’, or ‘boiler engineer’. I thought it was interesting that so many engineers have started small businesses.

Then Gina told me that in the UK, anyone can call themselves an engineer. All those engineers I saw driving past are what we in Australia call ‘tradies’ or tradespeople. At best, we call them engineering technologists. I grew up somewhere where an ‘engineer’ presumably had a four year university degree.

Because of the way British people use ‘engineer’, I’m told that engineering is a relatively low status profession. When you say that you’re an engineer, people think you fix air conditioners. Perhaps this is why professional qualification (chartered status) is such a priority in the UK and not so in Australia.

I have been thinking about whether or not this ambiguity is a problem. I don’t like professional snobbery, especially as experienced tradies and draftspeople know more about ‘engineering’ than graduate engineers and get paid less. It doesn’t quite seem fair. Other people say that one should be rewarded for having slogged through four years of university.

Maybe this isn’t a question of snobbery and superiority. Maybe there is a case for having two different names for engineers and tradespeople because they do different things. Whether or not one occupation is ‘better’ than another is for society to sort out. It’s a separate issue from the terminological one.

After all, would it be sensible for a legal secretary to be called a lawyer, or a nurse to be called a doctor?

If UK’s engineering associations decided this was a problem, how could it solve it? How do you ‘take back’ a term, say to people, ‘Sorry, guys. You can’t be engineers any more’? It doesn’t seem like you can do that. They could invent a new term for university-qualified engineers, I guess, either using a new word or some sort of modifying descriptor. Or they could continue down the path of chartered status and try to reduce public confusion through advertising (‘Doing something big? Check if your engineer is chartered!’).

High school reunion

I was idly thinking about how easy it would be to organise a 10-year high school reunion. Through Facebook, I’ve already found 50 high school mates. There are probably twenty more out there in Facebook land who I haven’t spotted or who I didn’t know well enough to make into Facebook friends.

I would create a Facebook group for the class of 2000, then use the group to organise a reunion for 2010. It might have to be that far out because it seems like we have scattered all over the world. If everyone gets in contact with everyone else they know, I’m sure we’d have a good proportion of the year level. We had just under 300 people all together, I think.

So, say 120 agree to come and half of them bring their partners. That’s 180 people. Thinking about the logistics, how would we pay for venue hire, catering and music? Maybe we could ask for $10 per person (at the door or pre-paid?).

I just found a catering company that has finger food menu for $9 per person.

I’m sure we could get the high school to hire out the school hall. Stick an MP3 player into the sound system, then voilà, music!

Haha, I just had a flashback to our high school socials, which were also held in the school hall. I remember what a highlight it was, to dress up for that one night of the year, then go to school and dance. There must have been teachers milling about to supervise, I don’t remember. What a strange situation, yet I never thought of it as strange before.

I remember our debating team arranging for substitute debaters from the year below us so that we could go to the social. That must have been in Year 9.

I wonder if the school still organises socials? I wonder if fourteen year olds these days are too grown up for that kind of event?

Not a sheep

Add another run to the scoreboard!

Tonight, Di and I cooked ‘oven baked risotto’ from my favourite cookbook. It was very tasty. We fried bacon, onion and a bit of butter. Then we poured in the cherry tomatoes, white wine, and chicken stock and stuck it in the oven. Our oven is slow so it took 40 minutes instead of 20. But it got done, and we mixed in the parmesan.

I think I am a little tipsy from finishing the rest of the wine bottle.

Including the chilli I cooked earlier this week, this brings me up to 14 out of 101 recipes in the cookbook.

For lunch, I went to Matt and Rachel’s house for Matt’s birthday BBQ. I ate an ostrich burger. I’ve always wanted to eat an ostrich burger, ever since I saw it being sold at the Cambridge market. I also ate a giant slice of cake.

Nearly everyone at the party was Australian. There are a lot of Australians in the UK. I feel kind of like a sheep, especially now that I’m going to work in London. I feel like saying, ‘I’m not a sheep! I came here by accident! I’m here because I mean it, not because it’s the done thing!’

Everyone and no-one wants to save the world

In the last eight months, I have met and read about many talented and idealistic young people. A few of them have even said they would like to be Prime Minister of Australia or the leader of another country so that they could make real fundamental changes in the world.

We should feel encouraged by such passion and activism in society’s youth. For me, the first thing that comes to mind is ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth.’ My second thought is then, ‘That’s not really fair, Joan. Democracy isn’t like a kitchen. The more people engaged, the better.’

The third thought, which is there all the time, is ‘You’re on a bandwagon, Joan. It’s a tired old thing, naive and egotistical. Why don’t you get off and let the others save the world? There seem to be plenty of leaders out there, some of whom will be effective.’

These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking hard about why I’m an engineer. It often seems futile, designing sludge drying beds for water recycling or developing a green purchasing policy for a company. There are economic and technological systems that need reform out there. Can an engineer ever do more than tinker at the edges?

I was in bed on the edge of sleep and asking myself, ‘Why do you want to work on the big picture problems, Joan? Is it ego? You don’t trust anyone else to make the ‘right’ changes? You look down on the very necessary and difficult work of on-ground implementation? You don’t want to be a faceless worker bee?’

Then I imagined myself in a happy perfect world in which I didn’t have to strive for change. I think that day-to-day I would be content, dancing, visiting friends, eating, taking photos. But without an overarching life goal, I don’t think I would be satisfied.

I haven’t quite got it yet but it’s something to do with ‘meaning’ and ‘purpose’ There’s something about making a lasting, fundamental difference in the external world that motivates me. It is intrinsic in the fabric that makes up ‘Joan’. It might also be a search for approval but not (I believe) power and fame.

Understanding this makes me start to understand that others aren’t like me. Plenty of people go on with life without trying to change the world. I often get upset with these people (most of society). To me, it seems selfish to aim for nothing more than to earn enough money so that you can go on annual overseas holidays or have weekend parties or relax in the garden or buy a new car.

But maybe (surely) other people have different things that provide their lives meaning: religion, family, friends, travel and experiences, science and discovery, winning, playing, their business…

Still, I think that there are a lot of people who live their lives without meaning. Sam de Brito wrote about a woman who ‘started to cry as she spoke about the goat track her existence had become; a worn, weary path between bed, her desk at work, the couch, then bed again.’

Does my life goal to ‘make a difference’ make me morally superior than the person whose life goal is to ‘step foot in every continent of the world’ or ‘put my children through private school’?

Rationally, no. Intuitively, I still have trouble accepting that intelligent and caring people can be comfortable not acting on global issues of justice, equity, ecological damage, and the future. The corollary of that is that anyone who isn’t an activist cannot be intelligent or caring. Again, rationally, this can’t be true but… I still feel it.

I wonder how many formerly idealistic people are laughing at me now? Here I am, just another naive young thing waiting to be processed and brought down by real life.

Food as reward

Like many females, I have a love-guilt relationship with food. I have recently become aware of one of my food-related behaviours. I use food as a reward. Whenever I hand in homework, get through a tough day, or even do exercise, I reward myself with food that I would otherwise feel bad about eating.

I don’t know if this behaviour is unhealthy or unhelpful. Maybe I reward myself too much or maybe the concept of ‘food as reward’ reinforces the guilt I feel when I eat food normally.

It leads me to think I need to find alternative ways to reward myself. I read somewhere the suggestion that you could buy a magazine or clothes as a reward. That wouldn’t do it for me, really. I haven’t yet thought of something that I enjoy as much as food.

Yesterday, I did something that made me happy. I had just handed in an essay. It was only 1000 words long but was very, very difficult and frustrating to write. Instead of buying a food reward, I went spent an hour at Borders. I was very happy and didn’t even buy anything.

Why we’re picky about who we love

I picked up Pride and Prejudice in a second hand bookstore for 75p. It’s my third copy of the book.

This time, my reading of it gave me an insight into a possible reason why, in general, people have increasingly high standards about who they are willing to date, marry or shack up with. I’ve mentioned this before and it seems to be a common enough complaint.

Back in the 1700s and 1800s, women counted themselves lucky if they found a man with enough money to live on and didn’t beat you up. Mr Okay was acceptable (I’m simplifying — the social class was a consideration too). Elizabeth and Jane Bennett were fortunate to find husbands they actually loved and respected but I think most people would have ‘settled’ as Charlotte Lucas did with Mr Collins.

Our list of ‘must haves’ is longer now. Not only are we looking for partners that are basically decent people, but they must also be attractive, successful, intelligent, share our interests, and there’s got to be ‘chemistry’.

Why do we expect to find such perfection in partnership? Why do friends worry about us ‘settling’ for less than we deserve? Why don’t people persevere in okay relationships?

I would like to propose that, alongside female empowerment and the relaxation of social class boundaries, one of the key drivers for our increased fussiness is the invention of the automobile. I heard somewhere that the invention of the car was a revolution in social relations because now, instead of having to marry someone in your village, you could hop over to the next village, or the next, to find a mate.

Because we have more people to choose from, the chances of finding someone compatible in multiple ways has increased. With rising access comes rising expectations.

This leads me to conclude that with the invention of time travel, our demands and expectations will increase yet again. I’ve always thought that if your Mr or Miss Perfect was the wrong age or born before you or exists in the future, then you’d feel pretty cheated. Time travel would solve that.

And then, we would become even fussier when interplanetary and intergalactic space travel is invented. That opens up the whole field of Mr and Miss Perfects that aren’t human. We’d need not settle for any old human ever again.

Accounting and finance: corporations in society

The first in this series can be found at Accounting and finance: the rationale. This post focuses on how corporations interact with society through the systems of accounting and finance. It considers:

  • Why does a company exist to profit shareholders?
  • What happens when a company fails? Who suffers the most?
  • Should companies be blamed for bad behaviour?
  • Is capitalism the answer? Is there are better way, waiting to be imagined?

Why does a company exist to profit shareholders?

This is actually a simplistic question, and perhaps is the wrong question to address the heart of my concerns.

A company focuses on profits to shareholders because that’s the deal it made. Remember: ‘Give me capital now and in return, you have a claim on my future income.’ Because shareholders have a stake in the prospects of a company, they have the right to influence the company’s strategy, usually by voting at general meetings. In reality, though, small shareholders like me have such diluted decision power (and little interest in voting) that we free-ride off the decisions of big institutional investors, who are hopefully voting to maximise the prospects of the company.

Okay, so the real question that I want to ask is actually ‘Why doesn’t a company look after its employees, the community and the environment at the expense of profits to shareholders?’

The answer is a little surprising: it’s meant to.

Shareholders actually have a claim on the residual earnings of a company. Through laws, the government sets the priorities of claims on a company’s assets — shareholders are meant to have the last of it. The company’s earnings must first be diverted to tax, meeting environmental obligations, employee pensions and leave, public reporting requirements, and all those other expenses of doing business in a country. These are all claims on a company’s income and are paid out of money that would otherwise go to shareholders.

Shareholders therefore take on the residual risk. It is risky, owning shares. If, after all of society’s claims on a company’s assets are made, there is nothing left for the shareholder, then they have lost their investment.

What happens when a company fails? Who suffers the most?

Things do go wrong. Think Enron in the United States, and Ansett in Australia. Companies fail for different reasons but it seemed to me that employees suffered the most from collapses.

Banks appear to do relatively well after corporate collapses. This is because when they grant a loan, they are clever enough to use the company’s tangible assets as collateral. A company that fails loses all the value associated with potential future income but it still has its buildings and equipment. When these are sold, the bank’s claim is prioritised and paid first.

Shareholders basically lose their investment because their willingness to pay for the stock was based on the expectation of future income. They may be able to salvage some of their money, once the company’s assets are sold off and debts are paid.

Employees have no ownership claim on tangible assets. Their livelihoods depended on the company’s income. They may lose their severance packages (usually expressed as some weeks of salary), which is important for them to survive the transition into new jobs. The severance package, however, is a minor amount compared to the promised pension (or superannuation). If employee pensions have been held in another trust, then pensions are protected from the collapse. If, however, the pensions are tied to company stocks (as was the case in Enron), then employees suffer at least as much as the shareholders. It’s the ‘all eggs in one basket’ effect on risk.

I’ve seen the Australian people call for compassion for and protection of employees of bust companies. In those situations, the government decided to step in to fund bail-out measures.

Should companies be blamed for bad behaviour?

In my view, there are two reasons we observe bad corporate behaviour:

  1. The company is breaking the rules of the game.
  2. The rules of the game do not reflect society’s values and need to be changed.

If a company breaks the law, then clearly it needs to be condemned for behaving immorally. The government and courts must enforce the law.

If a company acts within the law, yet we find ourselves disapproving of its actions, then as a society, we should lobby for changes in the law. If the priority of claims on a company’s assets and income is skewed too far in favour of shareholders, then the government should tax the company more, impose stricter environmental regulations, increase company contributions to employee pensions, and so on.

It would be nice if companies did all these things voluntarily but I think it would be naive to rely on corporate social responsibility. There will always be a few who lead the way in CSR but most of the pack will behave as dictated by the rules. The most reliable and consistent way to pull up the laggards is to raise the standards and enforce them.

Of course, setting ambitious regulations for corporate behaviour does not preclude education and discussion about a company’s moral behaviour. Exxon can be condemned for lobbying against renewable energy targets and carbon tax, even if it operates within the law. Telstra can be condemned for reducing telephone services to rural areas.

I believe, though, that in general, governments have been too weak. Failures of the financial system to serve society’s purposes are failures of the government more than of individual corporations. The government sets the rules of the system, and the system shapes the patterns of behaviour. In fact, I believe that the management teams of many corporations would be relieved by stricter regulation because it raises the entire playing field. Management can then justify investment into social and environmental initiatives because their shareholders are no more or less disadvantaged than shareholders in other companies.

Is capitalism the answer? Is there are better way, waiting to be imagined?

One day, capital might not be the limiting factor of productivity. One day, natural and manufactured resources may be plentiful. In this future, then, labour might be king and we, as individual owners of our skills, knowledge and experiences, will be powerful and wealthy. Another option might be to form coalitions of individuals, like unions, who are able to command a price for our labour. Labourism may have its own set of problems.

I suspect that capitalism is a robust system and will last a long time yet. We can spend time and have fun imagining a fundamentally different kind of system. However, in the near future, my own efforts will focus on modifying the system we have now to make sure it works for the benefit of the community.

MPhil in Office Politics

The Guardian published an article headed ‘Work it out‘. I find it a little frightening. I remember my manager once asking me what I believed to be my greatest weakness. I replied,’ I’m politically dense.’

Perhaps I’m less naive now than I was back then. It seems to me that no one has tried to block me from doing anything I wanted to do. I don’t know if it’s because everything has gone my way so far, or if I simply don’t notice the bad stuff. Maybe everyone in the world is cynical and I should be happy that I’m in a bubble of optimism. But I’m a bit concerned that if the bubble pops, I’ll be unprepared and embittered.

Food porn

A term that makes me giggle is ‘food porn’. You’ve seen it in recipe books: close up shots of glistening food, saturated colours, inviting textures… Touch me! Eat me! Love me! Mmmmm, drool.

Digital Photography School
offers an introduction to becoming a food porn artist. Choice magazine exposes the amount of primping and styling needed to produce drool-worthy photos. Tips include:

  • If you’re not advertising the ice cream, you might decide to go fake — coloured mashed potato can make a reasonable substitute.
  • If your Swiss cheese isn’t looking photogenic enough, enhance its holes — use little round cutters or even straws for small holes.
  • Spray deodorant can give a nice frosting to grapes.

Hmm, I suspect my blog will now be flooded with visitors who have put ‘porn’ and maybe ‘coconut’ into some search engine. Nothing to see here, guys. Sorry to disappoint.

Damjan called this ‘Emperor Cake’. There were lots of walnuts in the recipe.

Kate, Damjan and I had breakfast in Bendigo a few years ago. Wow, has it really been that long?

You’ve seen this photo before. But in the spirit of food porn, I have increased the saturation and used a soft focus. One of my favourite things about hanging out with Damjan is his keenness for making (and eating) bread.