Tipping Point

By 90% of the world's standards, I'm a wealthy man.  I'm not a millionaire, I don't have a Ferrari, a yacht or a hedge fund, but I'm doing okay - you know, nice house in England's Home Counties, good job, wife with a good job, children at a good school, a couple of cars, financially secure.

Here in my current abode of the UAE, I see plenty of people for whom my total wealth wouldn't equal a day's interest on their investments and I also see, at closer quarters, many for whom my monthly salary would surpass a lifetime's savings.  There aren't many places where the gap between rich and poor is so huge and so tangible.

For example, there's a Bangladeshi man who sweeps the street outside my home.  Day in, day out, he pushes a wheelie bin around, pointlessly sweeping up sand that just blows back again and thinking - well, who knows what he's thinking?  I hope he doesn't hate me for my comparative wealth.  I smile at him, which is more than most people do, and he smiles back.  That may mean more to him than the odd bottle of water, can of Coke or chocolate bar that I give him.  It might even mean more than the cash (not much, to me) I gave him at Christmas.  I don't know.

Because my wife and I both work we employ a cleaning company to keep our house spick and span.  The Filipina lady and Pakistani man sent twice a week by the company do a wonderful job but I hate to think what percentage of our fee they actually get or what they think of our flat screen TV, computers and other accoutrements.  I hope they don't hate me for my comparative wealth either but I wouldn't blame them if they do, despite the cash I also gave them at Christmas.

Then there are the UAE's petrol pump attendants, also from some of the world's poorest countries.  I can fill up my gas-guzzling expat SUV here for less than £20/US$32.  In England, it would cost five times that - and I'd have to fill it up myself, in the cold.  Here, a man who earns something in the region of AED 1,000 (about £170/US$270) per month saves me the bother of getting out of my air-conditioned car and getting my hands dirty and my shirt sweaty in the heat and fills it up for me.  Usually, he'll also clean my windscreen.  In return, I like to give a tip - probably just the spare change I have in my pocket.  It's nothing to me but, added to the tips from other drivers, it'll mean something to him - AED 40-80 per day, according to the newspaper that reported the news here a few weeks ago that a worker at an Emarat petrol station in Dubai had been strip-searched and then sacked because he had kept an AED 10 tip from a customer.  Emarat's initial defence of this outrageous action was that staff were supposed to pool tips for an 'entertainment fund'.  Yes, entertainment is a top priority for a man earning as little as AED 3 (50p/80c) per hour for a 12-hour shift six days per week. 

Emarat has now put up signs on its forecourts saying: "In order to ensure excellent service level (sic) to our customers, we adopt a No-Tipping policy."  Hmmm.  Putting aside the issue that pump attendants are obviously going to provide a better service if they think they might get a tip and even ignoring the moral bankruptcy of paying someone a pittance for filling up rich people's cars and then strip-searching them to make sure they aren't keeping their own tips, what right does Emarat have to tell me that I can't give my money to whomever I choose?

I appreciate that I do not live in a democracy with a minimum wage, that the labourers of the UAE probably - you never know - came here by choice (I hate to think how bad life at home must be if sweeping the streets or filling up cars for AED 3 per hour is a better alternative) and that the world is just not fair but if I want to give my money to a petrol pump attendant, cleaner, street sweeper or any other person doing an honest job then I will do so.  

It would be easy to drive a little out of my way to find another petrol station - ADNOC, ENOC and EPCO claim not to search their staff for tips - but if everyone did that the poor Emarat workers would lose their jobs.

No, I shall continue to use Emarat petrol stations and continue to tip as I see fit, unless the workers there think accepting my money might cost them their jobs.  I urge you to do the same, if you can afford it (and if you can afford a car, you can afford it).

A final thought: is this whole business legal?  Anyone know a good lawyer who might be able to advise?

Blog The Second: Snow Business

Okay, it really is a bit chilly out there - and I've been to South Georgia, as you might have noticed from the rather fetching orange total immersion suit I model with, I think, some style on my Facebook page.

As the weather brings the UK to a halt and businesses count the cost of lost time, travel chaos and staff absences, can I dare to look on the bright side?  Some businesses, other than winter sports shops, road gritters and orange total immersion suit manufacturers positively love a good dollop of the white stuff.

Take local radio stations.  They get loads of extra listeners when the weather's bad as commuters tune in for local travel news (proper local travel news: "there's a silver Vauxhall Vectra with a flat battery outside 17 Sycamore Drive in Little Bletherington and it's causing a tailback all the way to number 39, where Pete and Jackie are trying to get little Billy to nursery...") and their children listen, praying for news that their school is closed because the boiler's blown up and Mrs Williams from Year 4 can't get in because her car's stuck in the tailback on Sycamore Drive.

My local station is Mix 96, covering Aylesbury Vale - a shining example of really good local radio for a relatively small area (about 120,000 people in its 'TSA', if memory serves).  It knows and involves its audience, runs popular competitions alongside the usual array of splendidly local ads with wonderfully kitsch jingles for garden centres and garages and plays a decent selection of melodic tunes for a wide-ish demographic, with the ubiquitous Take That alongside Abba, The Script and Boston on the breakfast show this morning.  ("That's the one from the rollercoaster advert, isn't it Dad?"  "Yes, but let me tell you about the pioneering technical 'layering' approach of guitarist Tom Scholz.  Hey, come back and pay attention while I'm talking!  I'm your father and you should respect my knowledge of useless musical trivia!  I said come back!!!)

All in all, a good local listen, although I could have done without mein host relaying some of his listeners' children's rather disturbing culinary habits while I was tucking in to my cornflakes and I've never been spurred on to take extra care while driving by DJs who tell me to "take it easy out there".  (No, I'm going out to do some extra high-speed, Professionals-style, handbrake turns on the M25 while the conditions are right!)

They even roasted that old 80s chestnut, Life In A Northern Town by Dream Academy, on their open fire ("from Aylesbury Fireplaces, where our winter deals are hot!").   Not a Christmas song per se, but it has the right seasonal feel - a bit like East 17's Stay Another Day.   (Slightly younger readers/listeners might know it better from its sampling by Dario G on their 1997 hit, Sunchyme.  Then again, they might not.)  Dream Academy's Nick Laird-Clowes enlisted the production help of Pink Floyd's David Gilmour on the original and later co-wrote a couple of tracks on Floyd's Division Bell album, thus ensuring a nice Christmas cheque from Santa each year.

See, it's good for business, a bit of snow.

Blog The First: Decision Points

Hmmm.  This is quite daunting.  Somebody somewhere might actually read this so I'd better think of something witty and erudite to say.  Tricky, as after the best part of twenty years as a 'disc jockey', I'm all done with wit and eruditificativity.  (Sorry, the publication of Dubbya's new tome has affected me even though I haven't actually bought it - much like his foreign policy, in fact.) 


I threatened on Twitter a few days ago to offer some "enlightening info about the meaning of freelance life".  (I also made a mental note not to mention politics in any of my blogs.  Ooops.  Still, at least there's no geo-political hangover from Dubbya's tenure, in the context of which my blog might be misconstrued as inappropriate 'humour'.)  


So, here goes.  It may not be enlightening but I hope it'll offer a little encouragement to you if you're considering going freelance - or perhaps your employer is considering the option on your behalf...

We all face decision points every day (he says, rather obviously).  Some are conscious, some sub-conscious.  Most are not as potentially momentous or civilisation-threatening as Dubbya's, admittedly, although even he has to decide which socks to put on in the morning.  (Bit presumptuous, that, I know.) 


The most important decision I made in recent months was to leave my job of 17 years and go freelance.  Inevitably, I'm getting used to the "how does it feel?" question, mostly from former colleagues.  Well, after 17 years of institutionalisiveness (sorry, there I go again) it feels different, obviously.  Facing the future without a guaranteed regular income is daunting, although whose income is guaranteed these days anyway?  Some days are busy; some days bring new working challenges; some days offer time to blog, tweet, do the washing...  (Back in a minute - just remembered the duvet cover's still in the dryer.)


Right, where were we?


Oh yes, the best thing, without doubt, is the feeling of positivity that greets each morning.  Every day is an opportunity.  The 'phone may ring, an e-mail may arrive or the postie may knock on the door with an invitation to the Royal Wedding or, possibly more likely, that Auf Wiedersehen Pet box set you ordered from Amazon.  Of course, if clients aren't coming to you, you'll go to them.


For me, it's so far, so good.  I've met some interesting people I'd never have met in my old job.  (One of them even took me to lunch at The Ivy, which certainly wasn't on the menu in my old job!)  I've had time to think about what I want to do and where I want to be in the longer term.  I've been doing some consultancy work for an impressive and successful company whose HQ is 10 minutes' walk from my house.  I'm spending more time with my family, I am no longer a commuter, my carbon footprint is smaller (must be the socks) and - here's the thing - I'm far more positive than I ever used to be. 


And that's my point: (finally! Ed.): if you're considering going solo or you feel you may soon be made to go solo - and, of course, you're in the fortunate position of being able to do so - seize the moment.  Be positive and see every day as an opportunity.  "Easy for him to say!" I hear you cry.  Well, maybe, but if you're going to give it a try, give it a real try.  Whatever you do, don't misunderestimate the advantage a spot of positivification will give you in the marketplace.


Good luck!


(And no, I won't be buying Decision Points.  I'm perfectly capable of mangling my own grammar and syntax, thank you.)