In Germany, any decent company recognizes and rewards its employees at the end of the year with a holiday bonus--a 13th month of pay for their hard work during the year. It's not mandated but has become institutionalized, and has nothing to do with performance and shows no favouritism. Some companies, however--even companies in the health care business, are moving towards linking one's bonus to one's soundness of body. The last time there was an award for perfect attendance was in high school, and that was a snotty prize to get. If one misses 3 to 10 days of work during the year due to personal illness, one is entitled to half of the bonus--10 or more, nothing. Germans have no such thing as sick leave--an illness runs its course and one is granted leave until one is better--but there's never been a lower rate of absenteeism than right now. People are afraid for their job security, I suspect, and are wanting that bonus paid in full. I can't believe that those who make people well are taking part--it just seems irresponsible. One might spread his pneumatic joy around the office, rather than staying home and recovering. Swine flu, I imagine, is particularly pernicious in this matter. The 13th month--lousy Smarch weather.
Thursday 6 August 2009
Monday 3 August 2009
Rule 4: Don't Be Mean
look that up in your funk & wagnall's
It is as if expertise is no longer a virtue and that the expert is something virtually extinct. Instead of having to ask the creepy comic book shop guy when Aquaman joined the Justice League of America or the pierced chick at the vintage record store who wrote "Tell me why I don't like Mondays," we have pawned away our resources and too quickly turn to the internet, which has commercialized most of the trivia and advice that we are seeking and rent it back to us at a premium--only now with no guarantee for accuracy. One no longer asks a ninja, and even health care professionals are avoided unless one is given the response that they don't want. It's more than a bit sad that the devotee and the fanatic , the guru and whatever comes with the territory have become superfluous--not to mention treacherous.
Tuesday 28 July 2009
76 trombones
Friday 24 July 2009
manufactured crisis
Thursday 16 July 2009
give me a bouncy C
Wednesday 15 July 2009
keening
Lately, H and I have been regularly patronizing the latest affiliate of a multi-national, multi-verse chain of home furnishing store that opened in a town close to home. We swept down on this local outlet for some quick and dirty shopping sprees. I just get a kick out of the whole store culture hanging off of it—the nomenclature and the mobbing and the hugeness of it all that makes one feel on a separate astral plane. I have heard that the founder of the company started with the cute names because of struggles with dyslexia and an inability to cope with numbers. When H and I next visit Sweden, I think we should speak a pidgin that’s entirely composed of the names home dรฉcor. Holmbo bestรฅ vika kivsta ekarp Stockholm? Is it jibberish, sweded? I knew a waitress from there once who thought the Swedish Chef from the Muppetts was the funniest thing in creation. I wonder if it is at all intelligible. I wonder if my houseshoes, named Njuta, are in any way suggestive of houseshoes.