Queuing

I like to think that the Swiss admire the English in many regards. Wishful thinking, you might say, but in one respect, we stand head and shoulders above the rest. Queuing. Very drole, you might think, but true. “You’re English. You like queuing.” No. There is a misunderstanding here. We don’t like queuing. We are just good at it.

The Swiss, by contrast, don’t really like queuing at all. I am on very dodgy territory here, handing out potential insults to my hosts, but it is my observation that in a queue, one minute a person is behind you and the next minute, without any fuss or jostling, they are in front of you. Nothing physical, you understand. Just the knack of spotting the moment. A sort of friendly competition.

Queuing at the ski-lift brings out the same sort of qualities. The English glare has no effect here, so it is necessary to remain vigilant, alert, and with elbows pointing outwards.

Ed, my son, as an experienced economist is obsessed about efficiency. He has made some professional observations on this.

Here is a picture of him being obsessive and making professional observations.

He contrasts this with other types of socially competitive activities – sorry, if this is getting a bit technical. He pointed out, as we stuck our poles out sideways, to stop a flanking movement at a ski chair lift, that in these scenarios, one person’s gain is another person’s loss. “DO YOU ACTUALLY TEACH YOUR KIDS TO SNEAK THROUGH LIKE THAT?”

Ed compared it with the behaviour of motorists at road works on motorways. Motorists see the sign that says that the motorway will narrow to one lane in one mile. 90% will immediately move over to the appropriate lane and the other 10% will scream down the outside and sneak in at the end. “WELL, IF YOU HAD BROUGHT THE LITTLE BRAT UP PROPERLY, I WOULDN’T HAVE NEEDED TO PULL HIM BACK BY HIS COLLAR.”

Of that 10%, half will feel a little bit guilty, and the other half will think that the rest of us (Did I really include myself in this?) are just dumb. If we all went to the end of the lanes, and then pulled in, we could all be happy. It would also avoid those ridiculous occasions when there is actually no lane closure, the construction company having failed to remove the sign, and we all sit in a queue for 30 minutes, before realising that it is the equivalent of a road repair April Fool’s joke. Ed says that this is to do with Zero Sum Games. “CAREFUL ED, SKIER IN THE RED IS PLAYING THE ZERO SUM GAME AND IS ABOUT TO TAKE THE OUTSIDE SEAT.”

Ed points out that there is a difference between these examples and fighting for a place at lunchtime at the Parsenhutte Self Service Restaurant on the Davos ski slopes. Here, the strategy is to find the places, reserve them with your ski helmets or gloves and then spend 20 minutes queuing for your food, before taking your seats. A quick survey of the tables shows that one third of the places are taken by people eating, one-third by people, who have finished, and are talking, playing cards, reading a book, or just dozing. The other third, (you’ve guessed it) are occupied by Ski-helmets, or gloves, which are neither eating, reading, talking, nor playing cards. They could, just about, be said to be dozing.

Ed says that in economic speak, this is a wasted resource. You know that line. “If all those people waited until they had their food before sitting down, there would be more space for everyone.” Everyone knows it, but everyone has to follow the obvious rule. It’s a mug’s game to be the only person who doesn’t grab the table while it is there. He says that this is the "Prisoner’s Dilemma", which is a technical expression. “OK ED. I’LL WAIT HERE, WHILE YOU GET THE FOOD – AND WATCH OUT FOR THE LADY IN THE PURPLE SKI SUIT.” (The lady in the purple ski suit could have had her own blog entry – suffice to say, she did not like queuing, was in a dilemma and therefore should go to prison).

Stamp or Throw

I am working at Credit Suisse again. There are many benefits in being back, but one unexpected pleasure is being able once again to join the throngs of commuters. This commute takes me, every morning and evening, through the great halls of Bahnhof Enge (Enge Station, to you Brits).

It is not sufficient in Switzerland to simply build a functional station. Any proper station would have a draughty station waiting room, out-of-action toilets, a buffet that is closed at peak periods, and a ticket attendant who, when asked why the ticket machine won’t print out a ticket previously ordered on Trainline, says that “It is nothing to do with us and anyway, British Rail hasn’t existed for years, so you’ll just have to buy another ticket.”

I have been wanting to get this last point into print for years – two years to be precise – and, in case you were wondering, Walton-on Thames Station (or Bahnhof Walton auf der Themse, because the “Thames” is feminine in German) was the offending station.

Anyway, having got that bit of Grumpiness off my chest, I shall proceed to the main plot of the day.

Recently, when walking through the hallowed halls of Bahnhof Enge, there in front of me, was a decaying cigarette stub, laying on the ground. Notice “decaying”. It was still alight and, perfectly formed, as far as I could tell, and no doubt would continue to smoulder for its allotted time of a further 45 seconds.

In my day (whenever that was, but probably about 40 years ago), it was alright, if not mandatory to smoke. When you wished to discard the cigarette, you would stamp on the cigarette stub. This would not be just any old stamp, in order to gently extinguish the dying embers, and to ensure that no one within 10 yards would have to inhale the smoke. No – it was always something much more personal. It was like crushing the life out of a tribal enemy. More than the disdainful sneer at an inferior, it was a real testosterone loaded attack.

If an ashtray was used, then it was essential that the cigarette stub be severely mutilated, severed, twisted, turned or even broken, until any signs of life had been brutally snubbed out. “That’ll teach it.”

Yes – the way that you put out a cigarette, was a way of telling others what sort of man you were (or woman).

Now all this is in danger. Our society is on the brink. The “Case of the Half Alive Bahnhof Enge Cigarette Butt” had to be followed up. After some further sleuthing, in the following 30 seconds, I saw 5 further instances of cigarette butts, 3 of wimpish delicately or casually dropped on the ground variety, and two of the “I’ve been totally crushed by a Real Smoker” sort.

This brief review will require further analysis and more data (as we Six Sigma Types keep saying). For example, do men and women display different stub handling techniques? Is age a differentiating factor in dealing with the final incendiary embers? Is it a seasonal habit, like migrating? I shall prowl the platform Bahnhof Enge watching for factors which will enable me to discern the important social patterns evolving here.

If you hear of a middle aged man being arrested for suspicious and intimidating behaviour at a station near to the centre of Zurich (“Are you going to drop that fag end or not? I haven’t got all night, you know”), then I shall be relying on my readership to supply character references and bail, if necessary.

Fun on the Roads

If you have children, and have taken them on holiday in the car, you will have experienced the endless fun in keeping them amused. (I am talking “pre-videos and computer games in the back of the car” days. Why can’t today’s parents suffer like we did?)

But consider the poor driver, who has nothing to keep him amused, except the sound of a Bee Gees track (Beatles, if you are over 70) or the sound of the commentary of the cricket test match as Australia pile on another 500 run innings. (My son tells me that this does not happen as often now, but I will not let this deflect me from my point.)

I have therefore come up with a list of ways in which drivers can amuse themselves and test their skills and those of other drivers.

My favourite is to come up behind a car on a motorway, pull out and overtake and when two yards in front, pull in and take the foot off the accelerator. The driver being overtaken enjoys the chance to test his reactions and adjust his speed.

A variation on this amusing little tactic is to overtake, pull in and then pull out again immediately in front of the next car coming up the outside lane. This apparently pointless manoeuvre is good for preventing the car in the outside lane from going too fast and thus perhaps exceeding the speed limit, which, if course, is illegal and the overtaking driver will thank you for this.

Even better than this is to actually drive in the outside lane, just below the speed limit. I believe that it is every civic minded citizen’s duty to do this, to protect his fellowmen (or women) from committing a potentially illegal act.

One of my favourite “About Town: Let’s keep them Guessing” games, is not to signal at all when going around a roundabout. You can add to the fun by faking a turn off, and then carrying on around the roundabout, thereby testing the emergency stopping ability of drivers coming in.

Sometimes you need to be the “Good Samaritan”. If it is dark and the passenger in the car in front is trying to read, then you should come up as close as possible behind and shine the full headlights through his rear window. If your lights are badly adjusted, then this is even better. This is generally well appreciated by both driver and passenger alike.

There are many other such games to stretch driving skills. Readers of this blog will have their own ideas. Let’s see if we can develop something around driving while at the same time using a mobile phone, sending SMS messages, lighting a cigarette, eating a Chinese Takeaway or reading a novel. Should there be extra points for doing two or more at the same time?

Controversy

I had you worried then, didn’t. You thought that I was going to say something that might be “Controversial”. Not at all. As I explained to my Dad, Grumpy goes out of his way to avoid anything that might get him into hot water. Call it cowardice, if you want. I call it self-survival. Whatever it is, preferred targets are those who cannot hit back. So, on to my favourite source of Grumpiness - The BBC 24 News Service and English Newspapers.

I know that it is good to teach people to “Engage or Attract the readers’ attention”. True. (HBR contributors; please take note) But do you want to engage your reader / viewer’s interest and hopefully their intellect (do you remember that part of your audience’s mind?) or do you want to stoke their emotions? No prizes for guessing what Grumpy thinks about the intentions of Television News and Newspapers. But in case you cannot guess (wake up those in the back row) ……….I am still not going to tell you. So there!!

If the openings of articles in the Harvard Business Review are designed to help insomniacs (my old friend from New College, Martin Mosse, helpfully suggests three pages of Keynes General Theory for people for whom the HB Review is too stimulating), then the English News reaches the other extreme. They use headlines specifically designed to engage the emotions. A search for any content in the article or programme will frequently fail.

When the subject does not seem interesting enough or there is very little time to prepare it, the use of the word “controversial” can be thrown in to create the illusion that the topic is very important. I wonder if this is not the most frequently four syllable word used in the newspapers. This is a shame, because the English language is very rich in ways to express different shades of meaning.

The BBC News reached new heights of “Controversial Absurdity” in a broadcast on 26th January with the sentence “…plan to scrap the controversial control orders and replace them with controversial new proposals.". That must rank as the current Number one of “Grumpy’s most hyped up openings”. I drew the immediate conclusion that it really was not that important, so decided that it was time to make a cup of tea.

Even the Economist falls into this trap. It reported on 20 November, “The government's efforts to reduce the inflow of foreign workers have re-ignited an old controversy.”

So does “Controversial” just mean that some people disagree? To be honest, I did not know what the sentence in the Economist really meant. Immigration has always been a subject, about which people disagree. Is it a “Controversy”, because people feel strongly or passionately about it?

I bet that you did not know that in order to force a Federal Referendum in Switzerland, you need a minimum of 100,000 signatures. Do you think that there is a minimum number of people holding an opposite view before it become a “Controversy” (and must they all be passionate about it)?

Let’s say that this number is 1,000. Then based on this, I have decided that the word “Controversy” can never be applied to work of politicians. Firstly, there are not enough of them to fulfil even any sensible minimum quota requirements. Secondly, it is important to recognise the difference between great skilful acting and passion. Behind all the raised voices and shouting in the Home of Democracy, the reality is little more than posturing along party lines. The “Opposition” are meant to “oppose” the Government. That is their job. Likewise, the Government is duty-bound to ridicule any proposals from the Opposition. It matters little whether or not the Opposition’s suggestion might be sensible or ought sensibly to be adopted.

I am going to form a political party. Its sole aim will be to force Parliament to pass a law banning the use of this word. The “Anti-Controversy Party”.

Harvard Business Review to the Rescue

Grumpy’s creative juices have been running slowly in the last few weeks, for reasons which are not entirely clear. I had been thinking about having another dig at the BBC 24 Hour News, which is always an easy target. However last week, the Harvard Business Review came to my rescue.

Those of you familiar with these matters will know that the Harvard Business Review is a pretty heavyweight business and management magazine. No gossip columns here. Serious management academics and practitioners have their ideas and theories printed here. So if I am going to target “HBR” (as we people in the trade say), I had better make sure that my thoughts are solidly based. But I know that you would not expect anything other than complete intellectual rigour from Grumpy.

By way of background, I was recently invited to come back to my old stomping ground at Credit Suisse to help out around the place, as we professional high flyers say. In walking through the building to see what had changed, I saw, to my relief, that the library was still where it had always been. My heart leapt and I carefully and quietly entered the hallowed halls. I was in fear that my new status as an external contractor, might have prejudiced my previous privileges and ability to take out a book or business journal (No copies of the Beano here, but I am working on that).

I need not have feared. I was greeted like a long lost friend and before you could say “Ipswich Town; Ipswich Town FC; it’s the finest football team, the world has ever seen”, a copy of Harvard Business Review was in my hands for the reading.

It was not until lunch that I had the chance to read it, or at least peruse the contents. I was immediately struck by one article, which opened “Have you ever tried to kick a football with your eyes shut?”

This article had my attention. It went on to develop some useful and interesting ideas, but it was the opening that made me look at the openings of other articles. I decided to do a quick scan of other articles.

“Work-Life Balance has become a hot topic in recent years.” Now there’s an unoriginal opening, if ever there was one.

“The Internet has changed the way we work and live.” It is hard not to be overwhelmed by a sense of the obvious, a kind of literary sedative.

“Corporations now operate in a landscape rife with new threats to their reputations.” This is a real candidate for the “Obvious Statement of the Year Competition.”

The problem with Grumpy is (more accurately “One of the problems with Grumpy is …”) is that once turned off, it is very hard to get his interest going again. The reality was that the body of these articles really were as banal as the openings. I could only assume that the writers were more intent on getting their own names into print than in trying to keep the interest of the reader (and, Yes, in order to educate me, you do actually need to interest me as well).

I shall be watching out for banal and sedative openings. I think that this could have further to run. Watch this space.

Networking as a Full Time Occupation

I have decided to make networking into a full time occupation.

Many of you are experienced job hunters and will have learned or been taught that the best way of securing a new job is by word of mouth. If you are a sociable person (or in my case, just like the sound of your own voice), then this is great. You can combine an economically useful function with something akin to a hobby. If you lucky, some of the people that you meet along the way, will become long lasting friends or at least acquaintances.

To be a successful networker, there are certain rules and customs to avoid. “Giz_a_job” is ineffective, undignified and against the code of chivalry that operates amongst the Knights that practice this. Besides which, it tends to make for a fairly short conversation (“No. Good luck. Good-Bye”).

The proper rules of engagement provide for an initial lengthy preamble about family, friends, holidays, golf handicap, and other matters that you forget about within 2 days. Then, you may move carefully along to the subject of business, inquiring with an interested voice on the latest developments, and projects that your friend is working on. It is also appropriate to ask at this point about mutual business acquaintances.

Moving quickly ahead, you will at some point pick up some indications on whether they are actually hiring. But I have cut this last part a bit short, as the purpose of this blog is not to give you a description or lesson on the honourable art of networking, rather to say that I have a new model (as we business people say) to turn this on its head.

I have decided to use networking and looking for a job as cover for keeping in contact with people and generally socialising. I realised that now I am retired, I am not as useful for internal politics, unpaid consultancy, randomly useful ideas and general market intelligence and gossip. “How about a chat about the weather, have a good natter, and waste your time in the office? Shall we meet up next week?” is not a great sales line and does not obtain many meetings. (Actually, you would be surprised, how many meetings it does lead to).

Instead, I shall call people up or send them emails, saying that I have this great new product, which will lead to 25% reduction of costs and efficiency with no effort on your part, and no investment required. (Again, in reality, much of my career was involved in doing exactly that, but that is not the point).

This product needs a name and a logo, so I will call it the “New Boots and Rags Operations and Organisation Methodology” (and see how many of my family know where this name comes from – my dad will know). I am not sure about the logo. Something canine, I think. (You will have to read the next blog to find out the origination of this name).

Anyway, having secured my meeting, lunch, power breakfast or drink after work, I will then be indifferent as to the commercial outcome and be totally absorbed by personal topics. In particular, I will find out whether they have a holiday apartment, which we can swap. Do they play golf, ski or go hiking? Might they be a suitable training partner in my build up to an Olympic triathlon (if I ever do one)? Are they bad at chess, but still interested in playing (I am fed up with being beaten).

You get the idea. These poor people are so used to having people trying to sell them something, that my meetings will be a breath of fresh air and my expenses can all be charged to against tax (not that I have any business income yet to set it off against).

It’s a new paradigm. (I don't know what this means, but I have always wanted to write that!!)

There’s no Milk in the Fridge

I am not sure whether this is a “Man Thing”, but simple expeditions to the fridge can lead to bizarre conversations. You are looking for the milk; you know what the milk looks like; you know where it belongs in the fridge and it’s not there. Conclusion is perfectly obvious: There’s no Milk in the Fridge.

Along comes Hazel and says “What is this?”, pointing out a carton that has “Milk” written on it. The words are said, not so much with a look of triumph (which would be justified), but a sense of weary inevitability, that we “Men” are incapable of such a minor task.

“This isn’t milk. It’s orange juice!!” I say by way of self justification. “Well, it’s got Milk written on it on the front” comes the patient reply.

I am not giving up on this one. “But what is milk doing in an orange juice carton?” There’s no proper answer to this one, as the question is so ridiculous, but Hazel tries. “Ask the manufacturer” or “Trying to catch you out – and succeeding”, might be appropriate responses. “It’s just in a different type of carton. That’s all. You have to read what it says on the packet. It came from the Denner, instead of the Coop”.

THAT’S ALL!! READ WHAT IS SAID ON THE PACKET!! DENNER IS DIFFERENT FROM THE COOP. What are these people trying to do to me? I don’t read the packet. Men don’t read packets, except as some form of desperation. Why would you? Everyone knows what a carton of milk looks like. Aren’t there international standards for this type of thing?

Supermarkets are in on this conspiracy against men. “Migros don’t sell Special K anymore”, I say after a semi-successful shopping expedition. “Where did you look?” comes the obvious question. “Where the Special K normally is. Next to the cornflakes”.

“Did you ask anyone? Perhaps they moved it”.

WHAT? ASK SOMEONE? MOVED IT? What is going on? The Special K has always been next to the Cornflakes. No one consulted me. No one asked me whether it was alright to put Milk in an orange juice carton or to move the Special K. Was there no consultation period? Was there no referendum? Even the Swiss Railways occasionally change their timetables, but only with about a year’s notice.

But no; They’ll just change these things, and watch old Grumpy taken in each time.

So it’s off to the supermarket in a minute to buy some eggs, remembering to be careful to watch that they haven’t packed the cheese in the egg cartons. Ha ha. I’m one step ahead of them on this one.