Monday 8 September 2014

Why Optimism Sucks


Optimism is the new dogma. You can’t turn these days without some cheesy-grinned motivator telling us all to turn that frown upside-down and look at the positives.


Keep calm and suck it up
Keep calm and suck it up!
 Pessimists, we are told, die young and lead less fulfilling lives. All your clouds must have silver linings and you glass must be half-full. If we are to believe some of the gurus, an optimistic outlook even brings success. They tell us that optimism makes us better leaders, cures cancer and makes us sexier. Rhonda Byrne, in her book The Secret tells us that just believing and wishing for good things will cause the whole Universe to realign toward their manifestation. And God help you if you don’t. Let me tell you now, ladies and gentlemen, optimism is bullshit.
Twitshot

A while ago, I watched a documentary in which a soldier was asked about his experiences during a 9-month hostage situation (I have spent ages trying to find it again but as yet nothing). The one comment that stuck in my mind was that it was always the optimists that broke first. They were always the first ones to look for a rope and a chair. This confused me, after all, everyone knows that looking on the bright side is the only way to be. Well, I’ve been thinking about that comment for some time and realised that it makes perfect sense.

Optimism is exhausting, you begin each day in the belief that everything is going to be hunky dory and it invariably isn't. Someone is always throwing banana peels at your feet and you are bound to come up against someone whose idea of things going well is things going wrong for you. Think about it, you want a pay-raise so you go into your boss and ask for more money. Now, his idea of a good day is to address flagging profits which is eating into his bonus or margins. Who is going to have a great day?

So what are we to do, give up? No! Well yes. I propose a new approach and I call it Constructive Pessimism. Under the rules of Constructive Pessimism you are not to assume that your day will have any success, you will assume that, as Murphy’s law so wisely states, what can go wrong, will go wrong. Now, I can already hear you jeering and you have every right to do so but hear me out.

Spot the optimist
Begin your day with a list and start with the weather, are there any clouds? It’s going to rain, take an umbrella or rain-mac. How do you get to work? Bus, car, train? There will be delays, leave early. You are already prepared. Optimists will tell you that each mishap is a lesson; bollocks! Having a raincoat is a lesson learned, being on time and keeping your job is a lesson learned. 

Optimistic spin on disaster is sign of a slow learner.


You have a big business meeting, the board will hate your proposals. What will they hate? How can you counter their objections and what will you do when they turn you down flat.
You have to budget a project. What will it cost? Wrong! It will cost much more. Sell it to the optimists at the lower amount but keep some aside for the hitches.

Optimists may help you but pessimism will save you.     

Experts tell us that pessimists suffer with stress that leads to neurosis and heart problems. They tell us that optimists take risks and succeed more. Well, I’ll tell you that the belief that every silver lining has a cloud will mean that you always have a brolly and a glass half-empty will lead you to a tap for a refill. Constructive Pessimism will keep adrenaline levels high making you more aware and ready to deal with life’s slings and arrows.

At the end of an optimistic day you will count the lessons learned and resign yourself to the good of the big picture. At the end of a pessimistic day you will be able to lock your door and count the things that didn't go tits-up, not to mention being glad you had that brolly with you.

Optimism sucks the life out of you, believing in the good nature of the universe is like willing your stocks to stop falling. The Universe does not know who you are and definitely has no great plans for you. 

Coming to terms with that may make you feel insignificant but it will put you back in the game.

             



Friday 29 August 2014

Episode 16: A place in the sun and a roof over your head



from under dark clouds
From Under Dark Clouds

From Under Dark Clouds

'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.

Each episode is based on real events. Readers are invited to share their experiences for the Under Dark Clouds treatment. Many have been included in cameo roles, can you spot them?




See link below for contributions

I sat at my desk, willing myself to drink the coffee Mike the IT guy had made me; how it is possible to screw up instant coffee. The grumbling and complaints had emptied from the offices and the town hall had survived another day, barely. I stared at the cold hard truth in front of me willing it to change but like the coffee it remained bitter. Dear Blogees, we were in dire straits and I don’t mean the 80s soft-rock combo.

basement
Home sweet home
What I had found in the basement pained my soul. Camp beds, mattresses and blankets on the floor with suitcases and gym bags for wardrobes. Half of my staff had taken up residence in the town hall. I called a meeting, the second of the day, it’s what mayors do. This time it wasn't round the cobbled tables in the conference room but in the back room of the Symposium taverna. They were cleaning up after the lunchtime service, such that it had been and Kostas, the owner was overjoyed to see such a big group of diners until I told him that this would be his treat. He writhed and wriggled in pain but I pointed out the favours he owed me. He gawped in disbelief. I told him I had averted a visit from the fire service about his safety licence for him, which may have been true.    

There were 12 or 13 of us round the connected tables, most were singles apart from Niki and Alex, a couple in their early 30s who both worked in the offices and Despina, a recently divorced lady who had her 11 year old boy with her. The salads and chips arrived and Despina’s boy dug in greedily.     

Mike, the IT guy had been the first to move into the Town hall Plaza after being evicted by his landlady with 6 months arrears. One by one, I went around the table; evictions, loan foreclosures, bereavement, divorce. Tasos the janitor had followed after some protracted bureaucracy with his pension. “You’ve retired, Tasos?”  He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the floor. “So why do you come in to work every day?”  He mumbled that he had nothing else to do and besides he was with friends. Many around the table averted their gaze and pursed; no, I hadn't thought him a popular man either. The one factor that they all had in common was that the council hadn't paid them properly for almost a year.

“THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!” I leaped to my feet some moments after the information had been processed, “and who is responsible for this shameful situation?” The table went quiet apart from the slurps and lip smacks of Despina’s son who was still grazing the table clean.

“Well,” began Mike, the IT guy. “That would be the Mayor, Sir, Mr. Mayor.”

I smiled and reached for my mobile. “We’ll get this sorted out in a jiffy!” I called the well-assembled secretary as she always seemed to know the answers.
She took a good time before answering, “Yes, Sir.”

“Listen, we have this huge misunderstanding but it appears that some of the staff haven’t been paid for ages and well,” the line seemed to go quiet and then I heard a conversation in the background. “are you there?” I heard the bleeping of a supermarket checkout. “Are you busy?” She replied that she was at the supermarket. “I’ll call when you’re finished. When will that be?”

“About 9.30, tonight.”

She called me back 20 minutes later and explained that no one had been paid properly, something that she had told me before, but that there were nowhere near the funds to pay everyone, which she had also told me before. How the fuck was I supposed to remember all these details, being the Mayor is tougher than it looks.  But, she would have a look at the books the next day to see what could be done and that she had to get back to her checkout.

drunk again
Just letting the food digest
I slumped in my chair at a loss for what to do. I couldn't pay these people and I couldn't have them living in the basement, or could I? NO, I couldn't. I ordered industrial grade retsina for everyone and drank most of it.

The room was empty and the lights had been dimmed when I woke. Retsina is a sneaky bastard; it slips down like rain water then switches off power at the mains, without any warning. The cleaner, who was just finishing the dishes after evening service, made me a sit-up-and-beg cup of coffee and soon I was out in the night air looking for where I had left the Vespa.

After about 20 minutes I still hadn't found the Vespa but I did bump into an apartment building, and that isn't figuratively, for rent. I remembered it from another trip round the town and I also remembered who owned it. Oh, and I also remembered that my Vespa was parked right outside the town hall.

The next morning I arrived a little late into the office, the offices had already begun to fill with grumble and complaint. Soon I was sat at my desk, willing myself to drink the coffee Mike the IT guy had made me; how it is possible to screw up instant coffee but practice makes perfect and the well-assembled secretary was occupied with something on the PC and far too busy ignoring me.       

When the coffee kicked in I made a sweep of all the offices throwing all the grumblers and complainers out of the front door and locked it. Then, I called a meeting, that’s what mayors do, after all.
We assembled in the lobby.
“ladies and gentlemen, I have a plan." I had expected rapture but what I got was muted groans and shuffling. “When we shut up this afternoon, I want you all to go down to the basement and get your belongings and meet me here.” This caused some confusion. I had forgotten that not everyone was living down there. They were a hard audience and I was visibly floundering, “Trust me.”

I then sent them back off to their offices and opened the doors. As the punters took their grumbles back to the appropriate departments I heard one say, “Well, I didn't fucking vote for him!”

After the days play, all the residents of the Town hall plaza had gathered in the lobby and I entered through the main doors looking a little shabbier than usual but with a huge smile and a clear head. Despina’s boy had returned from school and was the first to approach me, “I'm hungry.” I patted his head and ushered the rest to follow me.

despina's boy
where's the buffet?
We eventually arrived outside the apartment building that belonged to the previous mayor that now wore a huge hand-painted banner greeting ‘Welcome home’. Inside I allocated a room for each of the ex-transients. I flicked a light switch with pride and the room was illuminated, Tasos had hijacked a live power line. Some of the apartments had hot water from solar panels on the roof and Mike had even managed to get Wi-Fi from somewhere. The furniture had been found around the building, left by previously evicted tenants, the rest were futons made from pallets and some clothes racks from a fashion store that had closed down in the high street.


Despina approached with misty eyes and hugged me. Her son said one word, “Souvlaki?”          








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Thursday 28 August 2014

Naked life


Naked life
Life without walls

Just picture your neighbourhood without walls, your neighbours walking around around in their underwear, drinking their morning coffee in plain view of all before they manage to get their face to sit straight. The warm familiarity of a warm hand down the front of your trousers while watching TV or that moment when the bile rises in repugnance of a spiteful comment from your dear spouse. Our lives depend on walls. Without walls when would we pick our noses or break joyous wind.  But this is exactly the experience that camping gives us and I have to admit, it is a very pleasant one.  


As a Brit, I have always viewed camping as an exercise in resilience. I remember shivering
Camping in Britain
kingdom of rain
throughout the night as a small child, fear stoked by campfire ghost stories; the sounds of nature morphed by the imagination into ghouls and monsters. Waking up with a raging hangover in a puddle after a stormy night at a festival as a teen.  Camping in Britain is a badge of honour, a rite of passage to fill the heart of any Victorian explorer or even Baden-Powell himself.

Then, I tried camping in Greece. Camping in Greece is not an SAS survival course; it is an exercise in prolonged nudity. Not just the fact that you spend most of your time in your trunks or bikini but  that people set up complete roaded suburbs from canvas and string, it is true open-plan living.  The result is taste of life without walls. The barbeque indicates the kitchen, a piece of string the laundry room.
What really started to make an impression on me, though was how a life without walls can be quite liberating. Stripping life back to basics is 5star living on 1star expenses, your every need is fulfilled because you don’t have any. The most taxing dilemma of the day is whether to make the trek down to the beach or sit and read a book in the hammock. The most arduous task is lighting the barbeque for dinner.

Your neighbours are all very semi-clad and this seems to make them more open to a good morning and a friendly chat. The lack of boundaries makes open visits so much easier and we enjoyed meeting people that we may not have otherwise spoken to on a hotel break. We shared food and drinks with them without fear of encroaching or interference.
The whole experience got me thinking what my own neighbourhood would be like without walls. Would we be a little more considerate without our doors to close, a little more charitable if we saw what was on other people’s plates.

naked camping
life al fresco
Then there is the matter of vanity; you would think that being naked all day would make you very self-conscious but quite the opposite is true. When the illusion of perfection is no longer made possible by push-up bras or baggy shirts, people look more human, more flawed and less intimidating. We tend to imagine what we cannot see and we tend not to imagine the worst. That said, you do become more in-tune with your own body and are more likely to pass on another sausage from the grill when you feel your tummy starting to protrude. One of my neighbours was a young guy with a fantastically chiselled physique but seeing his mealtimes served from a carefully prepared Tupperware box helped me appreciate that nothing comes for nothing. I personally found people less pretentious and more attractive for it.               

Taking some of the pretence from life might help many to feel less inadequate and more happy with reality. The walls that protect us from prying eyes also allow us to become more influenced by illusions from the popular media than by the people we live around. Reality becomes what we think everyone else is doing.


I can thoroughly recommend a couple of weeks under canvas each year, without push-up, lycra or baggy trousers. It would help to realign our notion of reality and view others in a more human light, not to mention redressing the illusions foisted upon us by the photoshopped media stars.      




Monday 14 July 2014

The Century of DIY part 4

How governments are realising that by privatising their obligations to you they can employ a freemium model letting social entrepreneurs take up the slack so they can prop up the private sector.

Twitshot

Every few years we get to exercise our democratic right to elect the government, the suits who will relentlessly appear on terribly dull news programmes talking about GDP, unemployment and who they feel we should feel we need to wage war on. Every few years, they tour round the country, kissing our grandmas and babies, get chummy with rock stars and actors and appeal to our good sense to give them our vote. Politicians are our representatives; they look after our needs and the needs of our nation. A democratically elected government is the management team, responsible for making sure our needs are met and we are cared for. This mammoth organisation is funded and its (our) employees are paid through the taxes. So why are they slowly but surely passing these obligations to private industry who charge us again for the same services? This is the century of DIY


Everyone knows that the Greeks invented democracy, the word itself means rule of the people. Around 6th century BC some clever Athenians decided that every citizen of the state should have a say in how the state was run and taxes were levied on the people for the defence of democracy. This model was used by subsequent republics for millennia and the taxes were collected by monarchs and autocrats to keep them in palaces and armies.

It wasn’t until the 1850s when Otto von Bismarck, the first elected chancellor of Germany, expanded the remit of the government to the welfare of the people by taking over and consolidating the role of charitable organisations.

It was the British who really threw themselves into social welfare, maybe in a bid to stem the tide of communism or maybe because they were just really good people but liberal prime ministers Herbert Asquith and David Lloyd George furthered the reach of the government with state pensions, unemployment benefits and health cover.


This was the beginning of governments taking responsibility of the people they were expecting to keep them in a job. Under the guidance of John Maynard Keynes and the findings of the 1942 Beveridge report Britain established the welfare state to tackle what William Beveridge called the “five Giant evils” of squalor, ignorance, want, idleness and disease.  To this end, the people of Britain made contribution to a system of national insurance and in return received housing, schooling, unemployment and disability benefits, work and health care. This idea quickly spread and some countries, such as Sweden are famed for their high levels of taxation and exemplary public services while others lag behind with the bare minimum of welfare such as USA. The one thing is universal, we have become used to looking to our governments to provide for our needs and this justifies our payment of taxes. 

And the payoff was that it enabled the state to manipulate the populous and thus the economy more efficiently.


In the 70s, attitudes changed and a new age of neoclassical, laissez-faire economics came to the fore under the influence of Milton Friedman and Friedrich Hayek (Margaret Thatcher’s mentor). Hayek’s “Road to Serfdom”, written around the time of the Beveridge report, warned of the dangers of government intervention in welfare and Friedman openly spoke out against social welfare. Critics of the walfare state argue that if you provide for peoples’ needs you encourage them to develop their needs over their abilities. In fact, revered author and philosopher, Ayn Rands’ magnus opus, “Atlas Shrugged” tells the story of a world gone mad due to a society of need rather than giving the reigns to super dynamic industrialists.

By the 80s, many governments were beginning to devolve their welfare systems, sell public industries, sell public housing and encourage private industry to run free and proliferate. The result was a boom time for many. Wages rose, bonuses swelled and credit made almost everything attainable to almost everyone. But it wasn't to be for long; the boom went bang.  

The 90s were spent trying to balance the books after the bust. The main strategy was to deregulate banking and finance and allow laissez-faire economics to drive a new era of wealth and then when things were looking good, it all collapsed around our ears.  

Now governments are trying to rake back the losses made from propping up the private sector, a new welfare state, for the welfare of industry.

As for Sir William Beveridge’s “five Giant evils”

Squalor: Public housing has been sold off leaving private landlords to turn any cupboard into a “studio flat”.

Ignorance: Higher education is now the privilege of those able to take on huge student loans to have the possibility to get  a job that will enable you to pay it off.

Want: Pensions and unemployment benefits have had the goal-post moved so far that private pensions and zero-hour contracts are now the base line.

Idleness: With unemployment and under-employment across the western world at historic highs, especially amongst the young and old, entire generations are dispossessed and not contributing to the community.     

Disease: National health services are crumbling under the pressure. Britain’s NHS is being propped up by the private medical insurance despite the fact that the recession has ensured that less people can afford it. Greece’s system has changed names and protocols so many times recently that even those working in it are unsure of what advice to give patients. France’s system is hanging in but costs are spiralling.

You can still vote, you can still pay taxes but make no mistake, you are on your own.  

The state is adopting the freemium business model. You can have basic services from the state, but in order to get anything more, private industry is on hand to provide supplementary services. The private sector is expected to provide the same, if not better services than a non-profit institution like the state while still keeping an eye on the profit margins.

Social entrepreurism is the new way with individuals encouraged to take up the slack. Set up an NGO and plug the gaps in the state. While the state props up the private sector, with your money.


For what was, in reality, a short period of history, governments made an admirable effort to care for the people who put them there in the first place. Then came the civil war of public versus private and private won. Now you are on your own again, governments and industry are washing their hands of any public responsibility with taxes, once again, collected to fund the wars on the global markets.  


Saturday 21 June 2014

Episode 15: When the lights go out


from under dark clouds

From Under Dark Clouds

From Under Dark Clouds

'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.


I set about my duties at my makeshift mayoral desk full of ideas but without a clue, dear blogees. What on earth does a mayor do, I googled it. After reading Wikipedia and how stuff works dot com, I slumped back in my chair totally discombobulated.  I called Socrates and put the question to him, his answer was thorough, included some choice vocabulary and I’m pretty sure included bullet points, he asked if I understood, I said no. He told me to call a meeting. Two minutes later, I called him back. A meeting with whom?

I managed to get representatives from the police, fire service, the education authority, a handful of utilities and Tasos, the janitor. 

bored meeting
Bored meeting
The electricity people said that since the central government had decided to collect a new tax hike through the electricity bills, people had stopped paying at such a rate that they couldn't keep up with the disconnection procedures. I asked him what the procedures were and how zealously he had been pursuing them.

“I assure you, Mr. Mayor, that we are doing everything in our power,” he paused and his chest puffed a little. “We have even shut down the power to some schools and citizens advice bureaus.”

 I enquired as to how successful this strategy had been.

“Over 80% of householders in arrears are now on remedial repayment plans,” he announced.

“And the schools?”

His reply was by way of pursed lips and a downward look, “a harder nut to crack.”
I asked who was liable for these arrears and he found a piece of dirt under his pinky nail. Tasos, the janitor was the only to speak, “You are, sir.”   

“Great, then reconnect immediately! We’ll settle up,” the accountant chap, who had remained quiet in the corner with his laptop, coughed, looked at the screen and gently swung his head, the well-assembled secretary looked over the accountants shoulder and made another gesture but I got briefly distracted.     

I told him to reconnect all public services and I would be over within the week to make arrangements. The electric man said he would be able to reconnect after terms had been arranged. Socrates, who had slipped in unnoticed and kept his silence, broke it, “The mayor said he would make arrangements within the week.” He looked at the electric man the way he had looked at me when I was in prison. The electric man made a note in a book and Socrates repeated himself. He pulled out his phone, said “within the week” emphatically and excused himself.

The lady from the education authority asked if the teachers, who had been unpaid for some months now could expect the same attention. I assured her that everyone would be dealt with in due course and Socrates smiled, almost.   

The water board man was predicting another summer of cuts due to the pre-crisis building boom in the area and the lack of funds to update the network. I asked why the network had not been upgraded in accordance with the building permission applications before the building boom. His reply was something about not having access to such information and went quiet.

The fire brigade had been forced to let a number of buildings burn due to a broken down engine and some dry hydrants. The boys down the station had managed to botch up the engine with some spares from a decommissioned engine but they had come across a number of hydrants with no supply. The water board man fiddled with his phone while the fire chief spat this last comment in his direction.      

I called the meeting to a close citing a very busy afternoon and everyone gladly left.
“We are so fucked!”

“We too must endure and persevere, and then courage will not laugh at our faintheartedness in searching for courage; which after all may, very likely, be endurance,” was Socrates' reply.

I looked back at him and repeated, “We are so fucked!”

I needed to clear my head so I headed into the streets to get some air. It was market day and the streets were closed to traffic, replaced with stalls full of produce and old women with wheely baskets. A group of shaven-head heavies were talking to a stall holder. As I approached I could see that they were performing some kind of check, the stall-holder had handed over his licence and the pit-bulls were examining it. They nodded and moved on. It occurred to me to confront them but my face still hurt too much. At the end of the row of stalls I found an Asian looking man picking broken plastic toys from the floor, his make-shift stall in crumbs around him. I asked what he was doing and he answered, without turning round, that he was picking up and leaving. When he did turn I recognised the face; it was like the face that had greeted me in the mirror the previous day. He was shaking with fear, grabbed what he could and ran.
       
It was late in the day when I arrived back at the town hall. Many had left for the day but I managed to find Tasos, the janitor. I called him and broached the subject of our infestation. He looked confused. In the basement, I reminded him and he shuffled uneasily. I asked to take a look down there to see what could be done. He told me that it wasn't very pleasant down there and maybe I should just let him deal with it.  

If I was to have any hope of dealing with the prefecture, I would first have to get my own house in order. What I found in the basement would take more than Rentokill to solve; my house would need some serious order. 

Some bedrooms would be a start.
   





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Wednesday 20 November 2013

The Century of DIY part 3

How Crowdfunding and allowing you to invest in the world's financial markets is funnelling your money into the biggest hedge fund. 

Twitshot

Not since the industrial revolution has the world seen such a tsunami of technological change. A change that affects each and every one on the planet, in fact many maintain that the industrial revolution was but a blip compared to what we are living through now. The big difference now is who is paying for it. The steam revolution was bankrolled by the new middle classes and industrialists and built on the backs of the new factory workers. The tech revolution is being paid from your pockets and history has taught us some important lessons about betting on the wrong horse when you know nothing of the stables.


Don't panic...SELL!
Toward the end of 1929 Wall street was looking shaky, the Dow Jones had taken a tumble in the spring but rallied again after the National City  Bank had propped it up with a $25 million injection but those in the know knew that it was time to cash their chips and move to another table. By the end of October chips were being cashed quicker than the market to sustain and “Black Tuesday” signalled the beginning of a world depression. The Rockefellers and Billy Durant made a brave attempt to save their investments but with over $30 billion (when $30 billion was a sum of money) wiped off the markets in a matter of days, even they could not stem the tide .

There have been many market crashes throughout history, most bizarrely the  Tulip mania crash of 1637, and more recently “Black Wednesday” in the early 90s, the dot-com bubble at the end of the millennium and the one that we are still reeling from now that seems to have begun when Lehman brothers fell in 2008. The nature of markets is boom and bust, when speculators see a chance at massive returns they will do what speculators do; speculate, and when the nuts and bolts of the stock will no longer support the market value the bears move in and the prices fall.

Tulip Mania - Middle-ages dot.com
The issue is now who loses when the markets slump. In 1929, as the new middle classes and industrialists lost fortunes on the markets, the working classes lost their work.  We also need to understand what happens in a bear market. A bear market, as defined by Investopedia  is more than 20% downturn in multiple stock indexes in a 2 month period and in the crashes this happens in a matter of days but those who are close to the market react quickly and sell their stock before losses bite too hard, leaving those outside the loop to take the brunt. Around the end of the 90s, when Charles Schwab and E Trade introduced online trading, the markets became available to all. The flipside of this is that it made $billions of private funds available to the markets. Many of the these services allow individuals to trade with a credit account, in other words they allow you to speculate much more than you may have to lose. Speculation drives prices, speculation by individuals without the same access to information or understanding of company values as professional traders. This is a fantastic democratisation of the markets but when it goes wrong it is the inner circle that gets out first drawing the profits up the food chain and the losses to the little fish.

Crowdfunding is seen as the new way for the common man to get in on the investment ladder; services like Kickstarter and Crowdcube allow anyone to become a venture capitalist by investing in start-ups and expanding businesses. In a world where the banks are becoming all too reluctant to invest in new and uncertain ventures, the householders have come to the rescue once again. Mark Shuttleworth’s recent Ubuntu Edge campaign, while unsuccessful in raising its target $32 million, did reach and unprecedented $12 million, proving that if you have the right concept you can get people to buy a product that is still on the drawing board. This gives many commercial venture capitalists the opportunity to sit back and allow ventures to fly or flop before they get their hands dirty.  

Stop grumbling and build an app!
The democratisation of investment would be a huge opportunity for us to build a nest egg from our disposable income but in an age of austerity and credit crunch more of us are speculating on credit with a dream of joining the ranks of the steadily growing number of superstar billionaires. It seems that, not satisfied with consuming commercial products at an unprecedented rate we are now expected to dig deep to facilitate the financing of more stuff for us to buy. The message is clear, with pension and equity funds managed by professionals losing our money in toxic investments and flawed strategy, building that retirement nest egg is another DIY responsibility. 

Part 4: How, after a brief flirtation with social welfare, government has put your welfare back in your hands    

Tuesday 15 October 2013

The Century of DIY part 2

How entrepreneurs are taking the risks for other peoples' businesses and how Tupperware made it possible. 

Twitshot

You may be sitting at your desk, well before your time, making sure the boss sees the commitment you have to the company. You may be an entrepreneur, sitting at home coding the next big app for the app-store or calling your friends to sell them some dish soap, a sandwich box or a vibrator. You may be sat in front of a camera talking about the latest ephemeral star’s dress sense. You are doing it for yourself. Or are you doing it for someone else. The contrivance of a global recession has set the scene for Go-Get-It enterprise, the internet has given you the global reach but are you really getting it.



tupperware
In 1948, Earl Silas Tupper developed a new kind of container for keeping food fresh, but it was Brownie Wise who began a movement that would change the way we work. Brownie Wise began network marketing when she discovered that the best people to sell domestic products were the same people who used them. After WWII, many women who had been working on aluminium drives in the community and in munitions factories for the war effort were returned to the kitchen, for some this must have been a relief but for others it was an unwelcome return to domestic hum-drum and they missed the extra income for the little pleasures of the new consumer life. Brownie gave them some new purpose, selling Tupper’s plastic containers to their friends through party plans. And, while they were becoming new age entrepreneurs they were also turning their friends into Tupperware’s customers.

It didn’t take long for other brands to realise the potential of this business model and soon Avon began using the model for their range of cosmetics and the Avon Ladies were born. Now it is possible to buy anything from baby clothes and jewellery to sex toys at an invariably women-only party.

This use of social networks to act as the shop front for companies was taken to a new level when companies like Amway developed the model further by encouraging individuals to become their own boss and make huge incomes selling their products. Anyone who has attended an Amway meeting will find it difficult to remain unaffected by the hype of success. Amway and its peers focus on internal marketing to make sales of their products, their network of “independent business owners” (IBOs) are sold on the dream that they can make fortunes by selling to their social network and recruiting more to do the same. Anyone who has been approached to join this network will be familiar with their techniques, an experience that I share. Super successful evangelists will tell you of how they were once builders or bank clerks but now live a life of plenty with huge incomes thanks to taking matters into their own hands. What Amway have done though, is to put the execution of their marketing plan into the hands of credible sales people with their own marketing budget; Amway makes  the products while you do the marketing, sales and accounting for them from your own pocket.

The tech revolution seems to have democratised the marketplace and now anyone can become a successful ebayer, Amazon marketplace holder or sell your crafts on Etsy. This shift has reversed the Amway model by selling the network to enterprising individuals to market their wares and it is this global reach that gives them the power to make the rules.


Once Apple released the first iPhone the game would change again. Apps, small

programs that could be developed by individuals or small groups would be sold to smart phone users. Now the R&D department had been outsourced. Google now sell other peoples products in the name of entrepreneurship. The poster-boys of tech are selling their creations for millions. Young people are now being sold on the idea that in order to make it big they must make it for Google, while Google are making it hand over fist.

This year’s Forbes list boasts 210 new billionaires with an increase of nearly a trillion dollars aggregate wealth over the previous year.     

Youtube has “democratised” programme production by giving everyone the ability to create content for their advertising platform.

Recent advances in 3D printing means that we will soon be able to “print” products in our own home. This has already begun to bring with it huge opportunities for enterprising people to begin designing and producing goods to sell through online marketplaces. As the complexity of these products progresses it will be possible to download plans from the major tech companies to print your own phone or tablet and thus lower production and distribution costs while reducing the reliance on staffed retail outlets. But, just as with IKEA's self-assembly it will also outsource the accountability of build quality.    

The responsibility to staff has already begun wither as so-called “Zero-hour” contracts have hit the news recently in UK. The controversial employment contract means that employees are not guaranteed any fixed hours of work and must be on-call for when they are needed by the company. They are not just used by fast-food chains and supermarkets but Universities and energy companies have also realised the benefits of making salaries a more variable expense. And it is not just the UK; a recent protest to the president of MacDonalds in the US by a lone employee highlights the emphasis on self-reliance even in the employment relationship.


The contrived world recession is laying the ground for an environment of resourceful self-reliance; UNION is now a dirty word and employers are developing commitment issues. And we are in danger of going back to the work-houses with one difference, we will have to buy the tech, the access and build the machines that will run it.  




From Under Dark Clouds

The Century of DIY