At work the other day I had to call Circuit City to track down a shipment to one of the schools I buy products for. I heard a click followed by an echo and then a female voice with a thick Indian accent came on the line. She was exceedingly polite and slowly repeated everything I said back to me.
Welcome, I thought, to the wonderful world of global outsourcing. Circuit City, like a growing number of American companies, uses call centers in India to field customer inquiries. The first thing I wondered was what the Indian woman was being paid for her labors. I heard a jumble of voices in the background and imagined this huge room crammed with desks and telephones, all of them occupied by Indian workers happy to answer calls from American consumers.
Then anger set in. Why wasn’t an American worker answering my call?
Because American workers are too expensive, so the jobs go overseas, to places like India. For Indian workers, the jobs provided by Circuit City, Hewlett-Packard and GE Capital represent a step up the economic ladder.
I had a vision of American workers on an escalator going down while Indian workers rode one up.
This is the age of Wal-Mart jobs: low wage, without benefits or pension, and of course, non-union. In this age, it’s every worker for himself or herself.
Long after I hung up, I thought about this call, about American working people, about how far the pendulum has swung in favor of Capital. We don’t hear it put that way very often, Capital vs. Labor, but isn’t that what has really happened over the past thirty-five years? Capital is in the ascendancy and Labor is reeling and any balance that once existed between the two is long dead.
During the Presidential election I heard pundits on all the major networks refer to “Big Labor” and I wondered what they were talking about. How can it be called Big Labor when only a tiny fraction of American workers are unionized? When twenty-two states have right-to-work laws? And when the last bastion of unionized workers – the public sector – is under assault?
I should disclose my bias – I am a unionized public employee. In California, we are known as a “special interest.” According to the rhetoric coming out of our Governor’s office, we are a drain on the state coffers and one cause of the massive state budget deficit. We’re not as productive, or so myth has it, as our private sector peers; our pensions are too generous, our health benefits too expensive, our paid holidays too many. We gum up the works and stand in the way of needed reforms. Eliminate us by outsourcing our jobs to the private sector and all will be well. Our children will excel in school and government offices will hum like, well, your local Home Depot.
Right.
It’s as if having a job with a decent wage, a traditional pension plan and employer-paid health insurance is a crime against the emerging “Ownership Society.”
I suppose I’m out of step with the zeitgeist because I take pride in being a public servant, pride in working in public education, pride in doing my part to provide the infrastructure so that teachers can teach and students learn. Every day I try to give the taxpayers value; I know who pays my salary. I believe the overwhelming majority of my peers and colleagues feel the same way.
There’s a hoary myth that unionized workers do just enough to get by, and use their contracts and grievance procedures to avoid work. I believe the opposite is true. I believe that because union membership gives me a greater stake in my workplace, I have an explicit responsibility to do more, not less; to bring credit to myself and my union.
The balance of power in this country is dangerously out of whack. Ignoring the imbalance is a grave mistake.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Monday, January 24, 2005
Bickering
Here’s an incomplete list of the things we bicker about: the fact that I rarely have any cash in my wallet; my habit of watching TV standing up; my repeated failure to re-supply paper towels, toilet paper, and paper napkins.
I’m guilty of the first two, no argument, but I reject the third accusation outright.
The money thing is a serious peeve of my wife’s, and I honestly can’t explain why I walk around most days with only a buck or two in my wallet. Day-to-day I don’t spend that much cash. I’m home to work, work back to home, and since I usually go home for lunch, I just don’t need cash.
Of course, when we find ourselves in line at a restaurant or the movies and my wife turns to me to ask if I have any cash, and I open my wallet and extract the single worn dollar that I’ve carried around for two weeks, she inevitably accuses me of being a loser, less than a man, and worse.
My father carried a money clip, paid cash for everything. Had my father left his house with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket he would have felt naked. He once advised me to never carry money in my wallet. Because he stored his wallet beneath the front seat of his car instead of carrying it in his hip pocket, he owned the same wallet for a couple of decades. When he died and my brother and I were sorting through his things, we found that his wallet contained his Army discharge card, a photograph of our mother, some scraps of paper on which phone numbers were scribbled, not much else. By that time, my father was living a hand-to-mouth existence; his money clip held more ones than tens and twenties.
That was a different age, the age of smoky cocktail parties and late night pinochle games, the age before ATM machines and debit cards and the Internet. Whether it was a better age than ours I couldn’t say. From this distance it seems less complicated, but that doesn’t imply that it was better.
My wife is probably right when she claims that a man my age needs to carry cash in his wallet. I’m sure my father would agree with the cash part, not the wallet.
I’m guilty of the first two, no argument, but I reject the third accusation outright.
The money thing is a serious peeve of my wife’s, and I honestly can’t explain why I walk around most days with only a buck or two in my wallet. Day-to-day I don’t spend that much cash. I’m home to work, work back to home, and since I usually go home for lunch, I just don’t need cash.
Of course, when we find ourselves in line at a restaurant or the movies and my wife turns to me to ask if I have any cash, and I open my wallet and extract the single worn dollar that I’ve carried around for two weeks, she inevitably accuses me of being a loser, less than a man, and worse.
My father carried a money clip, paid cash for everything. Had my father left his house with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket he would have felt naked. He once advised me to never carry money in my wallet. Because he stored his wallet beneath the front seat of his car instead of carrying it in his hip pocket, he owned the same wallet for a couple of decades. When he died and my brother and I were sorting through his things, we found that his wallet contained his Army discharge card, a photograph of our mother, some scraps of paper on which phone numbers were scribbled, not much else. By that time, my father was living a hand-to-mouth existence; his money clip held more ones than tens and twenties.
That was a different age, the age of smoky cocktail parties and late night pinochle games, the age before ATM machines and debit cards and the Internet. Whether it was a better age than ours I couldn’t say. From this distance it seems less complicated, but that doesn’t imply that it was better.
My wife is probably right when she claims that a man my age needs to carry cash in his wallet. I’m sure my father would agree with the cash part, not the wallet.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
The Frayed Net
When George W. Bush failed in business he had a safety net to catch him and cushion the blow. It was called his family's wealth and connections.
The social safety net familiar to most Americans has been torn so often that it is barely recognizable. The conservative ideology that prevails across the land is Darwinian, dog eat dog, dog against dog. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and don't complain if you fail. Make your own opportunities. Poverty is a sign of personal and moral shortcoming.
From what I read this ethos was also dominant at the beginning of the 20th century, when there was a yawning gap between rich and poor and corporate power went unchecked.
George W. Bush, the sneering fool who is our elected president (despite rampant voting irregularities in Ohio), will be inauguarated today. George won by a slim margin but in typical Bush fashion, claims to have a mandate from the people for his agenda, which includes partial privatization of Social Security.
Social Security, a product of the New Deal, is one of the most successful government programs in history, a compact between citizens and their government, a promise that no one will be forced to live in extreme poverty in their old age. My grandmother retired at 65 and lived to be 93, and for those twenty-eight years Social Security was her primary source of income. It paid for the basics -- a subsidized apartment, food, clothing, medical care, very few frills. Social Security allowed my grandmother to maintain her independence.
The Bush gang claims that Social Security is in crisis and will collapse unless the program is turned over to the magic of the market. What the Bushies don't mention is that the crisis point is thirty-five or forty years in the future. Until then, Social Security is relatively healthy, able to pay the benefits it has promised working Americans.
The prevailing ideology paints anything Public as flawed and inefficient. Whatever the public sector can do, the private sector can do better. All we must do is have faith in the power and magic of the market, of unbridled competition.It sounds great, in theory. The reality of unchecked corporate power is less rosy. Remember the S&L scandal under the Reagan administration? Remember who ultimately paid for that fiasco? Remember Enron, Halliburton, Northrop?
When George W. Bush failed his private safety net caught him and set him back on his feet. If George has his way, the majority of us might not be so fortunate.
The social safety net familiar to most Americans has been torn so often that it is barely recognizable. The conservative ideology that prevails across the land is Darwinian, dog eat dog, dog against dog. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and don't complain if you fail. Make your own opportunities. Poverty is a sign of personal and moral shortcoming.
From what I read this ethos was also dominant at the beginning of the 20th century, when there was a yawning gap between rich and poor and corporate power went unchecked.
George W. Bush, the sneering fool who is our elected president (despite rampant voting irregularities in Ohio), will be inauguarated today. George won by a slim margin but in typical Bush fashion, claims to have a mandate from the people for his agenda, which includes partial privatization of Social Security.
Social Security, a product of the New Deal, is one of the most successful government programs in history, a compact between citizens and their government, a promise that no one will be forced to live in extreme poverty in their old age. My grandmother retired at 65 and lived to be 93, and for those twenty-eight years Social Security was her primary source of income. It paid for the basics -- a subsidized apartment, food, clothing, medical care, very few frills. Social Security allowed my grandmother to maintain her independence.
The Bush gang claims that Social Security is in crisis and will collapse unless the program is turned over to the magic of the market. What the Bushies don't mention is that the crisis point is thirty-five or forty years in the future. Until then, Social Security is relatively healthy, able to pay the benefits it has promised working Americans.
The prevailing ideology paints anything Public as flawed and inefficient. Whatever the public sector can do, the private sector can do better. All we must do is have faith in the power and magic of the market, of unbridled competition.It sounds great, in theory. The reality of unchecked corporate power is less rosy. Remember the S&L scandal under the Reagan administration? Remember who ultimately paid for that fiasco? Remember Enron, Halliburton, Northrop?
When George W. Bush failed his private safety net caught him and set him back on his feet. If George has his way, the majority of us might not be so fortunate.
///
How gratifying was it to see Condi Rice solemnly telling senators that the time for American diplomacy is now. After torpedoing foreign relations for the past three years, Condi now thinks it would be a grand idea to get back in the good graces of our traditional allies.
What will the Bush braintrust think of next?
Monday, January 17, 2005
The End of Silence?
My e-mail is down and I have no idea why or how to get it working again. I suspect, but can’t be sure, that there is something wrong with my password, although up until this morning everything worked just fine. No choice now but to call the good people of Cox Communications, sit on hold for half an hour before being connected to some twenty-year-old whiz who will walk me through the problem, and point out what I did wrong.
This is the age of passwords and log-ons, e-mail and voice mail, digital life. I heard a radio spot for a car audio store the other day that promised to turn my vehicle into a rolling cinemaplex, with DVD players for my kids and an iPod hook-up for me. Presumably, we could then travel in peace, each of us lost in our own digitalized universe. As a parent of two young children who live to taunt one another, the thought of turning the family car into a rolling entertainment complex is appealing. It’s damn hard to referee a pitched battle from the front seat.
Portable distractions. Cell phones loaded with games. Handheld computers loaded with information. With an iPod we can take our favorite music everywhere and arrange hundreds of songs in a way that suits us. We are never without external stimuli. I wonder about this. Sages have always preached that wisdom is discovered in silence. While all these devices have a place and function, I wonder if we are losing the ability to tune in to our inner soundtrack, our quiet voice.
This is the age of passwords and log-ons, e-mail and voice mail, digital life. I heard a radio spot for a car audio store the other day that promised to turn my vehicle into a rolling cinemaplex, with DVD players for my kids and an iPod hook-up for me. Presumably, we could then travel in peace, each of us lost in our own digitalized universe. As a parent of two young children who live to taunt one another, the thought of turning the family car into a rolling entertainment complex is appealing. It’s damn hard to referee a pitched battle from the front seat.
Portable distractions. Cell phones loaded with games. Handheld computers loaded with information. With an iPod we can take our favorite music everywhere and arrange hundreds of songs in a way that suits us. We are never without external stimuli. I wonder about this. Sages have always preached that wisdom is discovered in silence. While all these devices have a place and function, I wonder if we are losing the ability to tune in to our inner soundtrack, our quiet voice.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
BRAIN BUST
George W. Bush popped up on the news the other day before I had a chance to change the channel to something more relevant like ElimiDate or the latest expose on Britney Spears over on E! Fortunately, the sound was down so low I couldn’t hear a word Dubya was saying, though from his trademark sneer I guessed he was talking about his political capital or his “mandate” from the American people.
I detest that phrase, “the American people,” habitually used by politicians when they speak in our name. Not a one of them has ever asked my opinion and I routinely hang up on pollsters, so in fact, there isn’t a politician anywhere in this land who knows what I’m thinking.
Anyway, seeing Bush sneer reminded me of the election just passed, that dark night when it became clear that my side was getting trounced. I have awful memories of that red tide sweeping across the center of the nation and the electoral votes piling up for Dubya and Dick. No sane person wants to relive that horror.
As much as I didn’t want to, I began thinking about the Democrats and how badly we fared. Our message fell flat and our ideas seemed stale. The majority of our candidates were bland and boring. We failed to dislodge a sitting president who misled the country into a needless foreign entanglement, who squandered a budget surplus by lavishing millions on the rich, and who dismantled an array of environmental protections. How could this happen and who the hell was responsible?
Back in 2000, I blamed Al Gore for running a cautious, wimpy and lifeless campaign. In 2004, the ire I felt wasn’t directed at candidates as much as it was at their advisors, the Democratic brain trust, the message makers and spin doctors. Bob Shrum. James Carville. Terry McAuliffe. These men and others like them were the architects of our defeat, the reason our message paled beside Dubya’s simplistic gibberish.
Clearly, the Dems are desperate for fresh ideas, not to mention a major internal housecleaning. From here out when Democratic candidates hire consultants they should ask for a detailed track record, and if that record shows nothing but defeat and failure, they should keep searching.
I detest that phrase, “the American people,” habitually used by politicians when they speak in our name. Not a one of them has ever asked my opinion and I routinely hang up on pollsters, so in fact, there isn’t a politician anywhere in this land who knows what I’m thinking.
Anyway, seeing Bush sneer reminded me of the election just passed, that dark night when it became clear that my side was getting trounced. I have awful memories of that red tide sweeping across the center of the nation and the electoral votes piling up for Dubya and Dick. No sane person wants to relive that horror.
As much as I didn’t want to, I began thinking about the Democrats and how badly we fared. Our message fell flat and our ideas seemed stale. The majority of our candidates were bland and boring. We failed to dislodge a sitting president who misled the country into a needless foreign entanglement, who squandered a budget surplus by lavishing millions on the rich, and who dismantled an array of environmental protections. How could this happen and who the hell was responsible?
Back in 2000, I blamed Al Gore for running a cautious, wimpy and lifeless campaign. In 2004, the ire I felt wasn’t directed at candidates as much as it was at their advisors, the Democratic brain trust, the message makers and spin doctors. Bob Shrum. James Carville. Terry McAuliffe. These men and others like them were the architects of our defeat, the reason our message paled beside Dubya’s simplistic gibberish.
Clearly, the Dems are desperate for fresh ideas, not to mention a major internal housecleaning. From here out when Democratic candidates hire consultants they should ask for a detailed track record, and if that record shows nothing but defeat and failure, they should keep searching.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Trojans & Terminators
I’m not a football fan though I did watch USC destroy Oklahoma last night. I have watched enough football games in my lifetime to know that USC put together a complete team effort – offense, defense, special teams, kicking. The Trojans gang-tackled on defense, stifling Oklahoma’s high-powered offense, and when they had the ball, SC executed its plays with precision, befuddling the Sooners at every turn. Give due credit to USC’s coaching staff – they did an excellent job preparing their kids. Most college football “experts” picked Oklahoma. It’s a good thing these games are played on the field instead of on paper.
I even watched the overblown halftime show, wondering as I always do when I see these events, why the sound system so often fails. Kelly Clarkson appeared to be singing her heart out but I couldn’t hear a word. The country guy who came on after Clarkson seemed pissed, as if he too couldn’t believe the foul-up. And then the truly horrible Ashlee Simpson took the stage. Watching Ashlee try to be edgy was painful. Word to AS: find a day job.
Ah, but we live in a goofy age, where marginally talented people become rich and famous, smile at us mere mortals from the glossy covers of People and Us, and get lots of press for wearing Dolce and Gabana or Vera Wang.
I’ve got a few beers in the fridge at home and I’m going to need every one to watch the Terminator make his State of the State speech tonight. I didn’t support the recall of Gray Davis, considering the entire effort a blatant abuse of the process. Davis was wimpy and ineffective, though he was a staunch supporter of public employees; the union I belong to loved him. We fought the recall effort but Arnie’s star power and the general dissatisfaction with Davis proved too big a hurdle to overcome. Arnie swept in with his gleaming smile and orangey tan, his famous wife, promising action, action, action, but beyond that, nothing specific.
Arnie declared that as an outsider beholden to no special interest he would change the way business is done in Sacramento. This made for a nice sound bite but in reality it’s business-as-usual for the folks in Sacramento.
What Arnie has done very well is defer tough tax and spend decisions to the future, when he will be gone from the scene. Like other politicians, professional or dilettante, Arnie refuses to confront the systemic problems that can be traced back to Proposition 13. There are homeowners in this state who bought years ago, before prices skyrocketed, and pay property taxes based on the value then, not the inflated value of today. No wonder the state depends on sales taxes, fees, and other gimmicks to bring money in, and no wonder the projected deficit is somewhere in the hood of $8 billion.
But tonight Arnie will flash his brilliant smile, wow the politicos with his star power, take credit for all the good things happening in the state, blame the legacy of Gray Davis for the bad, and layout his roadmap for the near future. Such speeches always make for interesting theatre. Beer helps make them amusing.
I even watched the overblown halftime show, wondering as I always do when I see these events, why the sound system so often fails. Kelly Clarkson appeared to be singing her heart out but I couldn’t hear a word. The country guy who came on after Clarkson seemed pissed, as if he too couldn’t believe the foul-up. And then the truly horrible Ashlee Simpson took the stage. Watching Ashlee try to be edgy was painful. Word to AS: find a day job.
Ah, but we live in a goofy age, where marginally talented people become rich and famous, smile at us mere mortals from the glossy covers of People and Us, and get lots of press for wearing Dolce and Gabana or Vera Wang.
I’ve got a few beers in the fridge at home and I’m going to need every one to watch the Terminator make his State of the State speech tonight. I didn’t support the recall of Gray Davis, considering the entire effort a blatant abuse of the process. Davis was wimpy and ineffective, though he was a staunch supporter of public employees; the union I belong to loved him. We fought the recall effort but Arnie’s star power and the general dissatisfaction with Davis proved too big a hurdle to overcome. Arnie swept in with his gleaming smile and orangey tan, his famous wife, promising action, action, action, but beyond that, nothing specific.
Arnie declared that as an outsider beholden to no special interest he would change the way business is done in Sacramento. This made for a nice sound bite but in reality it’s business-as-usual for the folks in Sacramento.
What Arnie has done very well is defer tough tax and spend decisions to the future, when he will be gone from the scene. Like other politicians, professional or dilettante, Arnie refuses to confront the systemic problems that can be traced back to Proposition 13. There are homeowners in this state who bought years ago, before prices skyrocketed, and pay property taxes based on the value then, not the inflated value of today. No wonder the state depends on sales taxes, fees, and other gimmicks to bring money in, and no wonder the projected deficit is somewhere in the hood of $8 billion.
But tonight Arnie will flash his brilliant smile, wow the politicos with his star power, take credit for all the good things happening in the state, blame the legacy of Gray Davis for the bad, and layout his roadmap for the near future. Such speeches always make for interesting theatre. Beer helps make them amusing.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Acts of God, Acts of Man
The devastation in Southern Asia has put a damper on normal activities. It's difficult to get worked up about after Christmas sales, the latest movie releases, Year in Review TV shows, football bowl games, parades, or any of the other staples of American life. The gut-wrenching images on every news channel, faces of mothers who have lost husbands and children, villages leveled and washed away, bodies lined up along the roadside, stick in the mind. It's hard to fathom a single event that wipes out over 100,000 human beings.
I've heard the earthquake and tsunami described as an act of God, but what sort of God would unleash such a disaster on some of the poorest people in the world? What sort of God would wipe out entire families, entire villages?
Acts of man, like 9/11 for example, are easier to understand and explain. Though twisted and diabolical, Osama bin Laden and his followers made very clear why they attacked the United States.
What can one say about the earthquake and tsunami except that this is what the earth has done for millions of years -- before humankind appeared -- arranging and re-arranging itself, throwing up mountains from the sea, sinking land masses, tearing continents apart, freezing parts of the land and turning others to dry desert.
I went to the grocery store yesterday, found it crowded with people buying food and libations for New Year's Eve parties, and felt guilty as I filled my own cart with necessities and luxuries. How easily I lifted two gallons of drinking water into the cart! That amount of clean water could spell the difference between life and death for a Sri Lankan. It felt strange to be going about my business, buying the things I usually buy, while people on the other side of the globe suffered brutal deprivation. I also felt utterly helpless.
It is gratifying to see the outpouring of aid and assistance flowing into the region. The disaster offers a tremendous opportunity for people to work together, cross ethnic, cultural, and religious canyons, put aside differences in language and skin color and see that life on this planet is one, all connected, all interdependent.
I've heard the earthquake and tsunami described as an act of God, but what sort of God would unleash such a disaster on some of the poorest people in the world? What sort of God would wipe out entire families, entire villages?
Acts of man, like 9/11 for example, are easier to understand and explain. Though twisted and diabolical, Osama bin Laden and his followers made very clear why they attacked the United States.
What can one say about the earthquake and tsunami except that this is what the earth has done for millions of years -- before humankind appeared -- arranging and re-arranging itself, throwing up mountains from the sea, sinking land masses, tearing continents apart, freezing parts of the land and turning others to dry desert.
I went to the grocery store yesterday, found it crowded with people buying food and libations for New Year's Eve parties, and felt guilty as I filled my own cart with necessities and luxuries. How easily I lifted two gallons of drinking water into the cart! That amount of clean water could spell the difference between life and death for a Sri Lankan. It felt strange to be going about my business, buying the things I usually buy, while people on the other side of the globe suffered brutal deprivation. I also felt utterly helpless.
It is gratifying to see the outpouring of aid and assistance flowing into the region. The disaster offers a tremendous opportunity for people to work together, cross ethnic, cultural, and religious canyons, put aside differences in language and skin color and see that life on this planet is one, all connected, all interdependent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)