Don't like your Job, eh?

I know most of you probably hate your jobs. I hear the complaints from people day after day; people who want to leave, applying to other jobs, hating the work they do, complaining about their life and having to wake up every day, don their suits and drive off to work in the heavy stressful traffic. Whether it's a bank, company, university, or so on, work is tough.

I feel how you feel. I know it's tough. It is.

Sometimes your boss doesn't listen to you, especially when you try to contribute something useful,

Bosses reportedly locked over 1,000 protesting workers inside their labour camp yesterday.

and sometimes your office isn't great. Or perhaps your working conditions aren't perfect; maybe your computer isn't the latest model, and maybe you don't get your own parking spot,

on strike for the past two days demanding better pay, hot water, better medical facilities and other basics such as lights in the toilets

and through all that tough work, your pay still definately doesn't cut it. Right?

the workers were being paid a basic salary of BD45 every month, but it comes to a total of BD60 after overtime

Ah yes. Life sucks, doesn't it.

MANAMA: A striking worker pleads his case for a better deal through the fence after bosses reportedly locked over 1,000 protesting workers inside their labour camp yesterday.The men, who are working on the $6 billion (BD2.26bn) Durrat Al Bahrain project, have been on strike for the past two days demanding better pay, hot water, better medical facilities and other basics such as lights in the toilets. Meanwhile, in a separate strike around 250 employees at Mohsin Haji Ali Group also downed tools yesterday demanding better pay and living conditions.

One of the workers, who didn't want to be named, told the GDN that their salaries were very low and that they lived like animals. "There are no proper facilities and no good beds. We have tried repeatedly to make the management aware of our problems but to no avail," he said.

Another employee said he and some others have developed a skin disease by living in the cramped conditions. "Ten people share a room and the quality of the beds is pathetic," he said.

Sources said the workers were being paid a basic salary of BD45 every month, but it comes to a total of BD60 after overtime. The workers claim that the company cuts BD5 every month as air ticket money for the "protection against us wanting to leave mid-contract".

Company officials would not comment on record, but one official told the GDN they would call the police if the strike continued today. "This is illegal and we will take all possible steps to thwart such actions," he said. He claimed the workers were "paid fairly", but added that their living conditions would be looked into.

One Day

Although I don't always see eye to eye with our Minister of Labour, Majeed Al Alawi, I have to admit that on occassion he does speak a lot of sense. Perhaps the motives behind his speeches aren't always that noble (or perhaps they are, I can't be too sure), but when he makes a good point, man, he makes a damn good point.

Yesterday Dr Majeed spoke about our laziness as a people, as a country, as a region. He warned of an 'Asian Tsunami' as he called it, because of our reliance on foreign labour to perform the simplest of jobs.

It's true though. We have become accustomed to the lazy life; we have maids hired to get us a glass of water because we can't be bothered to walk to the kitchen, or to tidy our beds because, well, it's too much work for us to do. We have workers at supermarkets and cafeterias who walk to our vehicle to take our order, just because opening the car door and walking in to get what we want sounds like too much effort. We have people hired to carry out the simplest tasks from making our tea, washing our cars, cooking our food, to ironing our clothes, just because we are the elite who have no reason in life to lift a finger. After all, we are supreme.

Aren't we?

Cheap labour has it's benefits. We become kings, queens, princes and princesses. We sit there, every command taken care of by our servants, our slaves. We become something great, we rise above everyone else. We are great.

Aren't we?

Or maybe it's not so great. Maybe we become lazy, we become accustomed to not having to do anything. We stop learning how to do the bed, how to cook, how to depend on ourselves. We forget, and the most simple tasks start becoming heavy chores. And then come our children, and obviously we throw this 'lavish' lifestyle onto them, so now they're the ones who feel superior and great, and do not have to lift a finger, do not have to learn how to do anything.

But sooner or later you're going to need to know how to do something. This lifestyle isn't going to last for ever; one day all of this is going to go away, as the Asian countries start regaining economic strength, and the workers find it much more attractive to head back home. One day when this lifestyle becomes too expensive to maintain, and your superior self won't be able to afford it. One day when you head to a different country where this sort of thing isn't the norm, and you're going to have to do things yourself. One day when this over-the-top lifestyle fades away, and you're left in a mess, not knowing what to do, or how to act.

One day.

For another interesting issue previously brought up by our Minister of Labour, click here

Empty Tank of Gas

She drove into the gas station, parked by the pump, and waited. Eight gas pumps in total, manned by two people; Each handles four.

I was at the opposite pump, gas flowing into my car, watching the attendant in my rear-view. He was working hard; running around from car to car, pumping the gas, taking money, giving change, while a number of other cars queued up waiting for their black gold.

She waited a few seconds. He was still running around trying to finish serving his customers, and she saw him in her rear-view, running around. I saw her see him. She could tell he was busy, she could tell he had a number of cars to attend to, even before she parked by the pump.

But she was impatient. She was only there for a few seconds, but she didn't care. She sat in her car with her windows tinted, hiding in the dark, the princess of all. She needed to be served, and she needed to be served now. She blew her horn, three long times in succession, very loudly. Come to my service now, slave, the horn screamed.

He came running.

She opened the window and shouted at him; cursed him for not serving her in time, slacking off his job and taking things lightly.

Was he though?

He was running around, from car to car, pumping gas, taking money, getting the change.

He was working fast.

He wasn't slacking off.

But what he was, was a poor foreigner, paid a low wage, incomprehensibly low to this princess, that she didn't consider him human. Didn't consider him someone offering her a service. Didn't consider him a man leaving his country and family far away to work in her country, for her comfort.

He filled the gas. Attended to other cars while the black gold flowed to her car. And when the pump for her car stopped, and he wasn't right there to continue serving her, she blew her horn again. Once this time. But a long, deafening one. She stopped when he finally came, threw her money at him, and drove away.

After all, he was slacking. He did take his time, serving her. She was a local citizen of this country, and he wasn't. She earned real money, while he earned next to nothing. She was a real human, while he was not much more than a creature, there for her comfort.

My car tank was full; he came, took my money, and I smiled at him as I gave him a big, sincere thank you. I drove away as more cars came, and he ran around trying to serve them all as fast as he could.

------------For more post on slave labour, maids etc, click here

The McDonalds Employee

Waves of people had taken over the food court section of the shopping mall; children running around, parents chattering, youth strolling through, and the odd individual walking by. The joy on the peoples faces stood out on this night, probably one of the busiest nights of the year.

At the queue piling up infront of McDonalds though, the peoples' faces said something else. Impatient to get their Big Macs and Chicken Nuggets, Quarter Pounders and Happy Meals, the avid McDonalds customers waited, some fussing, some complaining, some trying to cut the line, but all just angry at having to wait for their 'fast food'.

I stood in line with them, and watched the employee do his job as my turn got closer. Ernie, his name tag said (not to be confused with Bert's counterpart, of Sesame Street fame), an Asian male in his late twenties or early thirties, probably. He wasn't really smiling; between the multitude of orders he had to fulfil, the long lines of angry customers he had to serve, and the noise from a mall so busy on its peak night of the year, the customer standing at the front of the line was literally shouting at him for delaying his order. After all, this customer was standing here for over 30 seconds, and that surely is too much time to wait for food, right?

Finally served and on his way, next in line were three children, probably around 8 years old, dressed in their shiny Eid clothes, smiling and laughing, waving their money at Ernie and giggling out their incoherent order. Between the noise of the mall, the sizzling of the french fries in the background and the childrens giggles, I couldn't make out what they wanted to order. Ernie, on the other hand, seemed to understand perfectly; quick to react, take the money and give them their change, maneuver himself in a way to fill their drinks, call out their order, and start packing their happy meals all at the same time. I was impressed, actually. Within a few seconds their order was almost ready, pending the cheeseburgers from the kitchen, so he took the next order, which was mine.

I gave my order and watched him do his magic, create a meal with agility not gained through plain training or even routine. No, Ernie must have really thought this process through. Probably a product of going home every night, lying down in bed before he slept, thinking of how he did his job during the day, and perfecting the process in his mind. You see, Ernie here was an efficiency expert. He moved the line as quickly and smoothly as humanly possible, and if left to the average person, the line would probably be at the very least twice as long as it was now. He did this to make his job easier. He did this to satisfy his customers better and serve them faster. But most of all, he did this because it was his job, and he had a loyalty towards his job and wanted it to give it the best he could.

Think of yourself in his place, would you push yourself to do your best? Or would you sit back, relax and do what it takes to just get by and get your salary at month end? Think of yourself at your job now, do you really try to do your best for your entity, or do you just want to finish your time and go home?

I had just finished giving my order when the customer in line behind me started to snap; 'Hey, I want to order'. I turned around and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 'Is there a problem? The guy's working as fast as he can, and the least you can do is appreciate that it's a busy night, and just wait. He's under enough pressure already.'

He put his head down, obviously thinking of what I had said, and felt a little ashamed for being unnecessarily selfish. Perhaps in a faster moving world none of us have the patience to wait in line, whether it's for fast food, at a queue in a bank, or anywhere else. Maybe we can stop letting out our frustrations on those same people who are helping serve us, and are doing their best to give us what we need to let us be on our way.

My order was ready, and it didn't take long at all. I gave him a sincere thank you; he didn't have the time to smile, but I knew he appreciated it, and took and fulfilled another order as I went on my way.
------------For more post on slave labour, maids etc, click here

I am your slave

I am your slave.

I work in the streets; I build your houses, buildings, and towers. I pave your roads. I pick up the trash off the side of the street in the morning. I clean your sewage systems. I work in your homes; I watch your children while you are away. I watch your children while you are here. I clean your houses, tidy your beds, pick up after you. I serve your food. I clean your garden, wash your cars. I work in your supermarkets, work in your shops; I come out to serve you while you sit in your car. I bring your what you want, and you don't need to lift a finger. I work in your banks, your ministries, your companies; I serve your tea and coffee in the morning, I clean up after you leave in the evening.

I am far away from home; a stranger in a strange land. I leave my family and friends, wife and children, all to come to you, to serve you, to be your slave. To earn a little, a modest income to send to my family; enough for them to survive, to make it through the day. I do this for my family, yet I do all of this with your best interest at heart. I work long hours, I work hard. I try my best to please you, yet you are never pleased. You shout at me, you punish me, and you expect me to do more work. I work from the early hours of the morning, till the late hours of the evening. If I am lucky, I have a few hours to work a second job; I have to, because the money you pay me is hardly enough. I earn a little, not enough to live a good life, not enough to even live a lousy life, nevertheless, you pay me. But sometimes you don't. Sometimes I work for months, and you don't pay me. And I can't complain. I can't retaliate, I can't object. Yet, I make a living, and whatever I make, I send to my family. I try to survive on inexpensive food, I try to save as much as I can. Not much, but I try.

You look at me, yet you don't look at me. You don't see me; I am not there. You pass me by like I do not exist, you do not care. I am packed with other slaves like me, like sardines in a can, in the back of a truck. Your car stops right behind me; I see you, comfortable in your air conditioned luxury vehicle, while I sweat out in the heat, yet you avoid looking into my eyes. Does it embarress you? Why do you turn away? I am on the side of the road, working in the heat, and you pass by me, drinking your cold beverage. You avoid me. You don't acknowledge me. When you do acknowledge me, its with looks of disgust, you detest me. You say i'm dirty; I work your filthy jobs. You dislike my strong odor; I work in the sun all day for you. You are the one who sends me to do these jobs, then you look at me in disgust from what it has produced. I am the result of your actions. You take me out to a restaurant, to watch and take care of your children while you eat. You make me sit on another table, you give me inferior food. I am not your equal. I am your slave.

I built your society, I made it what it is today. Without me, your children would have no one to take care of them, your buildings would have no one to build them, your mess would have no one to clean it. No one to do the dirty work you despise. The dirty work we take, so you can continue living in your lazy, luxurious existence.

I am your slave.

Yet without me you are nothing.

------------For more post on slave labour, maids etc, click here

They don't seem to like it too much..

If you aren't aware yet, a decision was passed a few days ago banning contractors from working their staff during the hours of 12pm and 4pm during the summer. With the soaring heat and temperatures reaching 50 degrees celcius at times, it was probably the only humane thing to do. Obviously, such a decision was frowned upon by the contractors. Some argued loss of productivity, some argued increased expenses to transport labourers to and from accomodation during these work hours, and some went to the extent of saying that millions of dinars will be lost.

Can you believe that?

Contractors; I understand your frustration; I know that instead of making net profits of so and so million this year, you might have to deal with a few less million (if that is really how much it is going to cost you). I understand that you will have to forget about buying that fourth house in the Carribean this year. I understand, and I sympathise with your cause, I truly do. I also wish I had a house in the Carribean.

Why should they (the labourers) matter? After all, these labourers are plain animals, they're the ones who never work, slack off as much as they can, and cost you a fortune in salaries! They shouldn't get a break; they should stay in the sun, and work to earn that fortune that you pay them every month! I'm sure every single one of you contractors was born without a single cent to your name, and had to leave your family and friends and travel to a distant land to work like an animal for someone else who showed you no mercy, so that you can make a few dollars to eat every day. So why should you give these labourers a chance to relax? You worked hard all your life in the sun, didn't you?

But somehow, walking a few meters from your house to your car gets you all hot and sweaty. And you complain when your air conditioner isn't on full blast, and the temperature in your home soars to around 23 or 24 degrees.

..

....


Read the article below; an extract from today's GDN newspaper.

Working hours 'to hit mega projects'
By MANDEEP SINGH

PRODUCTIVITY in the contracting sector will drop by 50 per cent if the government's decision to stop labourers from working for four hours in the afternoon in July and August is implemented, it was claimed yesterday.

In a statement issued by the Bahrain Chamber of Commerce and Industry, it said the decision was impractical and would prove to be counter-productive.

"We are totally against it and will refuse to accept it," BCCI head of contractors' committee Samir Nass told the GDN yesterday.

You refuse to accept it?

"We have had a very lengthy discussion on the whole issue and are convinced that none of the contractors were consulted before the move was thought of," he said.

"This is going to be counter-productive, and will severely affect scores of infrastructure projects in Bahrain. The way it has been framed and is expected to be implemented is not right.

"There is an urgency in Bahrain these days to rapidly finish mega projects and these will be put off or delayed.

"The country cannot afford that. Productivity will fall by at least 50 per cent and that we can ill-afford."

Mr Nass said they were not only concerned about their profits, but about the impact the decision would have on Bahrain.

"Bahrain should not do it this way. No other country, even hotter than Bahrain, has such rules," he said.

"We are all concerned about our labour and do look after them. We will continue to do so. We want a fit and efficient labour force and we are concerned about them."

Mr Nass said no one cared to look at the technical aspect of the rule before it was drafted.

"There was no consultation with anyone," he said.

Of course there was no consultation; if it was left up to you, you would probably make them work 24 hours a day.

"What we want to know is how to transport the labour to their camps far away in peak traffic and get them back to the work sites in time to resume work.

"By the time they reach their accommodation, it will be past 1pm and then they should again leave by 3pm.

"They will have less than two hours of so-called rest."

On the other hand, he said, if they are not taken to their accommodation at noon and made to rest at the site for four hours, they will be within their rights to demand overtime.

"This is not going to work out at all," said Mr Nass.

He said all other associated work would also stop and would affect the projects overall.

"If heat is the only consideration, one should stop work for that time at refineries, smelters, shipyards, garbage dumps and power stations where people have to work indoors at temperatures in excess of 55 degrees," said Mr Nass.

He said that the contractors's committee has written to the Labour Ministry on these issues.

"We demand an immediate explanation on what we should do. We cannot stop work and agree to these impractical suggestions," said Mr Nass.

Impractical?

The ban on work at construction and other outdoor sites from noon to 4pm in July and August was issued by Labour Minister Majeed Al Alawi on Monday.

It follows a decision taken at the Cabinet meeting on Sunday.

Only animals I see here are the contractors themselves
------------For more post on slave labour, maids etc, click here