Friday, July 31, 2009

Cock breaks into prison

I just read an uplifting piece about a man in Belgium who is on a crusade to show us life in the prisons of the world. He, Jan de Cock, has visited 140 prisons and slept in about 70 of them.

He was attacked by an inmate in Rwanda and beaten up by a guard in Laos. In Tokyo he was forced to sleep in a certain position. In Guatemala, the prison was controlled by a local gang, and the wardens were afraid to enter.

And so on. I would say that I myself am mildly interested in spending a few days in a Swedish prison, for research reasons, but never in a Rwandan one. That’s why I think Mr de Cock is a modern hero, and I wish him some sort of success for his efforts.

And I thought the only great Belgian was Hercule Poirot. And even he was made up by a lady in Devon. Turns out there is at least one more, and he’s real.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Where my bad attitude comes from


I’ve always felt that a part of me is red, and now I know why. Apparently my great grandfather J.W. Kramer was a socialist agitator in northern Sweden. Very progressive, as Swedish-readers can see in this poster from 1925 inviting both men and women (the horror!) to a lecture about the roots of unemployment.

But the part that cracks me up is the next line, which in English reads “The bourgeoisie, which always mocks and pesters workers, are invited to discuss.”

What a god-awful way of inviting someone to a debate. “Please come and discuss this with us, assholes.” That’ll set the right tone.


Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Wendelin and the limit of happiness

A few days ago I blogged about Wendelin Wiedeking’s funny name. That was out of character for me, since my normal reason for blogging about this newly-fired CEO of Porsche would have been the fact that he earned just under 200 000 euros per day in 2007. That’s every single day of the year! (And you thought it was superior craftsmanship that made Porsches expensive.)

Yet I didn’t pounce on him. Maybe it’s because I feel sorry for Wendelin, since he is obviously under the impression that more money will make him happy. Some sort of scientists have recently come up with the magic number 10,000 dollars per person and year as the limit at which personal happiness stops growing. If you make less than 10,000 dollars a year then yes, more money will make you happier. But above that line, the increase stops. Making 11,000 a year will not make you noticably happier than when you were making 10,000. (To compare, Wendelin made 11,800 dollars an hour during every single hour of 2007.)

An encouraging sign for Wendelin’s happiness, however, is the fact that he will give some of his money away to charity, even though his choices of charities are bizarre. He is setting up a 25-million-euro fund for “socially fair development at all Porsche sites”, and is giving 500,000 euros to support “elderly and suffering journalists” in Baden-Württemberg and Lower Saxony. What’s the fascinating backstory to that last decision, do you think?

P.S. The man rumoured to take over as CEO of Porsche is named Michael Macht. Also a very good name. No Wendelin Wiedeking, but that would be asking too much.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Treating workplace trauma

Today was Monday, and a fair amount of Swedes are starting work again after their holidays. At my old job 20 percent of the workforce was axed just before summer, and now the returning remnants have to figure out how to survive doing more with less people.

I like coming up with my own stuff on this blog, but for these tips on how managers can get off to a good start in similar traumatized environments, I can’t do better than my hero Edward Miller:

· Notice the loss. Talk to people about missing their friends who are gone.

· Organize some social nourishment. Encourage people to take breaks with their friends. Have a daily coffee break with your staff where you talk about your lives, not your work.

· Become more transparent; stop meeting behind glass walls.

· Stop treating people like expendable parts.

· Be honest. Stop telling people that “good times” are coming back. They aren't.

Monday, July 27, 2009

I will miss Wendelin

Since I don’t think it matters very much who is the leader of this or that company or organization, I rarely care who gets ousted or promoted. I only show grief or excitement when somebody with a funny name comes along. Like Double-Boutros Ghali. I miss him. And naturally, I was sad when Omar Bongo of Togo died, but relieved when his son took his place – Ali-Ben Bongo. Even better.

Anyhoot, this entry is about the tragic (namewise) ousting of Porsche CEO Wendelin Wiedeking, the man with the best name in business. I hope he doesn’t retire completely from public life and spends the rest of his life wasting away his 50-million-euro severance package on Jägermeister and German hookers. He should get a new job, a high-profile one that will keep him in the news. Maybe that European Union Permanent President thing that Tony Blair is drooling over? Honestly, wouldn’t Wendelin be better? Do we really want a bloke named Tony running Europe?

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Matthew Robson

For no particular reason, I have decided to dedicate this my 100th blog entry to a 15-year-old named Matthew Robson. He is or was an intern at Morgan Stanley, which is some kind of bank filled with farts my age who are dying to know what young people “out there” think. So young Mr Robson was asked to write a report on his and his friends’ media habits. Here are the insights that have London’s bankers wetting themselves over having discovered the key to reaching tomorrow’s consumers:

* Teenagers hate online ads (no big surprise there)
* Teenagers don’t twitter, since it’s pointless (a growing realization on my part, too)
* Instead of paying money to surf on a two-inch screen on the bus, teenagers wait until they get home where they can surf for free, i.e. let Dad pay. (Breakthrough insight from the thought leaders at Morgan Stanley: Teenagers don’t have much money.)
* Teenagers don’t have time to watch TV (this one is actually new to me, so maybe it’s not true)
* Teenagers chat more on their game consoles than on their phones (you can chat on a game console?)

One irony in this beautiful story is that many bankers must have 15-year-olds of their own at home who might (only might) tell them the same thing if they would only go home and talk to them.

As for Mr Robson, he must surely be on the short list for “Britain’s Most Influential Man” of 2009. Just as I was beginning to worry that the best that island could muster was Tony Blair and that other guy who succeeded him. What a relief.

Friday, July 24, 2009

An axe to the knee

When I was in the army, half my life ago, I led three good men in a grenade-rifle group. They thought I was strange because I was ”one of those people who read books”, and they were all pretty lazy. The weekend before our final nine-day exercise, one of them (I won’t tell you his name because this is so friggin’ stupid) whacked himself over the knee with a frying pan so he wouldn’t have to participate. As it turned out, they wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy. They made him come on the exercise anyway, but he didn’t have to carry anything, which meant I had to carry his crap.

Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this thrilling story is that I just found out from my aunt Minette that the very first known Harr did the exact same thing – except with an axe.

His name was Per Ersson and was a foot soldier in the Swedish army between 1794 and 1807. By that time he was sick of army life and took an axe to one of his knees so he would be discharged. Which he was.

What a knucklehead. And a relative of mine. I couldn’t be more proud.