Out and about in ..... Romania

A few months back I was lucky enough to visit Romania, not quite knowing what a former soviet block country looks like these days. 

I was pleasantly surprised and I believe that the country’s second most famous citizen, Mr Vlad the Impaler, formerly of a remote hilltop address in Transylvania, would be quite impressed with what the locals have done with the place since he’s been undead. Possibly The Impaler would be a wee bit miffed by the way he has been demonised by rotten foreigners and immortalised by the chattering classes down in the valleys below.  But this should hardly be a surprise to someone who did so little to cultivate a respectable public image while he was alive. 

Recently FOR SALE: 

Mountain retreat for sulky count who wanted to get away from it all

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/property/luxury-homes/10817139/Buy-a-stake-in-Draculas-castle.html

What is unclear is what Mr Vlad would have made of Romania’s first most famous citizen, Mr Ceausescu, and his life's work; the ‘People’s Palace’, which effortlessly dwarfs the castles of mere Impalers everywhere. By volume this is the second largest building on the planet, larger than the greatest pyramid at Giza, second only to the Pentagon. 

NOT FOR SALE

City palace by sulky dictator who wanted to get away with it all

No doubt Mr Vlad would approve the fact that (due to Mr Ceausescu's paranoia about being poisoned via air conditioning) the entire palace is naturally ventilated, with heating provided by small, conventional, hot water radiators which are hopelessly under-designed for the sheer volume of the building.  This renders the entire building as cold as a crypt except during the height of mid summer. 

In reality the palace was a national treasure one step too far; it’s construction cost equalled 40% of Romania’s paltry GPD from ‘83 to ‘89.  Absolutely no expense was spared in pursuit of luxury for its construction, justified by the fact that all materials were sourced from Romania. Final costs are believed to be of the order of Euro3bn  but the human suffering behind this largess will probably never be known.

The good news is that Romania has finally moved out from the dark shadow of this unfortunate era. The people and the food are wonderful. Bucharest is vibant, the countryside is beautiful and, contrary to expectations, the country has not fallen into the hands of pious Romanian bible thumpers. One suspects that they have all safely migrated to western Europe now that Romania has been fully integrated into the European Union.

Get It While You Can

The Organisation for Economic Cooperation & Development (OECD) cheerfully reports that the last 100 years have seen a steady decline in the number of hours in the working week. Furthermore, people in developed countries now work the least hours per week, while people work proportionally longer in nations still struggling to build a strong economy.


Of course, defiantly bucking the global trend is South Korea which steadfastly refuses to relinquish the top slot on the working hours league table, despite having achieved a fully developed economy more than a quarter of a century ago.

http://www.economist.com/blogs/freeexchange/2013/09/working-hours

With Korean employees currently working 1.6 times more hours than German employees, you would have to seriously question the sanity of anyone who left a German firm to join a Korean company.  Yet strange things happen ;)

Explanations for Korea's singular determination to maintain its #1 position are many and varied.  Some suggest that despite a deeply engrained loathing of their former colonial masters, the Koreans have willingly embraced the Japanese concept of 'myeolsabonggong' or 'sacrifice your personal life to serve your community' - in this case your employer. Others claim that 'presenteeism' - a cynic's antithesis of absenteeism - has virtually become a national sport as workers strive strive to outstay each other in the office, to maintain the illusion of being essential to the organisation. Whichever theory one leans towards, one certainly shouldn't underestimate the dark influence of the omnipresent Human Resources.  After all, HR is the modern era's mandarin class, a secret service hiding in plain sight, operating its own agenda, evaluating every priority, setting every task, allocating every resource, costing every option, authorising every decision and ensuring with ruthless efficiency that everyone is assimilated.

HR: 7 of 9 warned us; resistance is futile.

Amongst many other things, electronic ID cards allow HR computers to record when staff enter the building and when they leave.  Statistics are compiled in real time to report who has arrived late, how late and the frequency of their tardiness. The average arrival time of each departmental team is computed.  If the average is later than 'targets', then the team leader is told to correct it. Similarly if the average departure time of a team is earlier than 'targets' then the team leader is also held accountable.  

In the largest companies, the unspoken target is to arrive by 7:30 for 8:00 am.  It speaks volumes that most staff usually roll in soon after 7am so that their ID cards record a 'respectable' clock-in time. However, that done, the rank and file waste no time looking for a convenient place to nap until they need to be at their desks at 8:00. This is after all, their contractual starting time; the moment from which they get paid to work.  

A quiet stroll around the head offices of the larger conglomerates at 7:15 will find a steady stream of people quietly tip-toeing into darkened interview rooms, conference rooms and even executive board-rooms.  Inside will be dozens, sometimes scores of snoozing staff flumped over desks, hunched over chairs, resting in each other's laps, blissfully purring away.  Given that most of these staff arrived by subway, this is already their second cat-nap of the day. In the Korean Hive Collective, assimilation by a conglomerate is the ultimate goal, presenteeism is the modus operandi and sleep is the most treasured commodity.  You have to get it while you can ...... which means you have to be creative how you do it.    

Lunch time begins when, and only when, all the office lights automatically switch off for an hour.  That might be 11:30, 12:00 or 12:30, as determined by HR to regulate the flow of people floor by floor to avoid undue crushes at the elevators and into the canteens. Then, like everything else in Korea, how and when you take your nap depends on your status in the company. 

It is a given that most regular staff will need only 10 minutes to wolf down some scorching hot noodles, followed by 50 minutes back at their desks snoozing on their keyboards with a favourite hug pillow. Hug pillows typically feature favorite K-pop bands, risque Anime pin-ups, significant others or perhaps even the entire family.  Recent fads include the very versatile Ostritch Pillow which combines great comfort with effective sensory deprivation and can be worn in a variety of modes; head upright, leaning against something or flumped over the desk.

Sweet dreams are made of this: the Ostritch Pillow

Of course, higher paid rank and file can pay for business class power naps in relaxation parlours.  These are booming business, especially in Gangnam, Myeongdong and Hongik where people go to show off their cash.  Subdued lighting, soft music, complex aromas and subtle mechanised massages combine to regenerate body and soul.  

Today: regeneration in relaxation parlours

Tomorrow: regeneration in Borg alcoves

In public places people have evolved the knack of sleeping on benches directly under the noonday sun, on walls, chains, flower beds, stairs, cycles, subways.  

The Noonday Nap: not for beginners

Either laying, sitting or standing, power napping is competitive business and just like every other, the Koreans are fiendishly good at it. 

The Improvised Nap: a well-honed art form 

And as you’d expect, commuters have programmable Apps to bring them out of their reverie as they approach their destination so that they don’t miss their stop. It’s all terribly civilized.


The lunch hour ends abruptly when the office lights come back on. By this time everyone has to be back at their desk to work, even if a phone call, meeting or some urgently required piece of work prevented them from starting their lunch break at the allotted time. It is the task of the team gofer to run around checking that everyone comes out of their reverie and anyone who hasn't come to will receive a respectful nudge in the ribs.

This applies to everyone except managers, directors, vice presidents and above, who once again enjoy highly visible deferential treatment.  Managers are allowed to keep napping in their cubicle in full view of their subordinates.  Likewise directors can close their office door signalling that they are not to be disturbed.  

Napping - the ultimate testament to hard work

For these management levels, sleeping at work is ironically perceived as a good thing; not because napping improves performance, but because clearly, the employee’s state of exhaustion is a clear testament to the long hours of personal sacrifice that he has given in commitment to the company.  Thus a manger can nap with impunity in full view of his minions and be revered for the unstinting effort that this implies about his service to the company.   

It's all about perception.

Any questions ?

The End of the World is Nigh ........

Confusion ? Chaos ? A complete breakdown of social order ? We regularly watch movies showing humanity in the grip of a zombie apocalypse but exactly how much (or how little) does it actually take to overpower the simple discipline required for a city to function normally ? The answer is that here in Seoul we may be living much closer to the edge than you ever imagined.

Here is a simple example; escalators. We see them everywhere, we take them for granted, they are a way of life. In the building next door we have two escalators, each wide enough to carry a single file of people. The two sets are built side by side, one going up, one going down. Just in case the motion of the stairs doesn't make it obvious, at the top, one escalator has a 'No Entry' sign, the other an 'Entry' sign, while at the bottom there are similar signs arranged oppositely. It is a simple system which operates successfully, 24/7 without incident, without supervision, requiring only the bare minimum of discipline from the users. 

If you think that this can not reveal anything about the fragility of social order then just watch what happens when the power to the escalators is switched off, just before lunchtime. This is what you will see next; mature, normally rational members of the public instantly transformed to Demented Mindless Zombies.

Escalators: the end of the world as we know it ?

The first group of people approaching the escalators veer towards the correct stair for their direction of travel but notice that the stairs are not moving, so they stop abruptly. The group consults amongst themselves what to do; showing that the combined IQ of the complete collective is required for the complex analysis of the options; to use the escalator anyway, to find the stairs, to find an elevator. 

Needless to say the popular combination of mini-skirts and high heels has long-ago frustrated the evolution of a woman who could actually climb stairs without revealing too much of her 'modesty'. Therefore an elevator is the only option for the women in the group.

Short skirts and high heels - ok for escalators but too risque for climbing stairs

However, before a decision can be made, a crowd forms behind the first group. At the opposite end of the escalator a similar crowd performs the same mind-boggling analysis. And now comes the tipping point: at each end of the escalator, the crowd is now so big and the indecision so paralyzing that people slip into DMZ mode and start overflowing onto both escalators in both directions simultaneously. 

Only when these people meet in the middle do they realise that they are on a single file stair but now have to squeeze past everyone who is clumping along in the opposite direction. The ensuing struggles are nothing short of heroic, especially for those carrying hot coffee, decorated cakes, bunches of flowers and wet umbrellas.  From the relative sanity of an overlooking fast food emporium, you quickly realise that this is the kind of entertainment you should be selling tickets to watch.  The stepwise erosion of social order could become a whole new genre of spectator sport - it's as simple as the flick of a switch.

Be afraid, be very afraid.