I Can't Believe No One Has Thought Of This.

I'm going to start this big-ass company and I'll pay manufacturing workers in China 8 cents an hour instead of 7 and they'll all come work for me and these other chumpos will be F-F-FUCKED.


Blogger Simon said...

So I'm at a Christening recently and my arsehole of an Uncle is there, saying how he recently decided to get into the overseas exploitation game, since it's obviously where the money was.

He priced out having his window furnishing crap made here in Australia, and no-one could locally compete with what the Chinese were offering.

So he and his son are flown over there all expenses paid, because the Chinese really want their business, and are driven to this 'compound' 6 hours from the city.

Of course my ears shoot up at him mouthing off like a Self-Important Old White Man, for this is a pet hate of mine.

"Compound" sounds an awful lot like "Gulag" to me.

"No, no, no." He can tell I'm about to Have A Go at him. "It was a beautiful place. Everything was marble and glass and landscaped".

This isn't what I need to hear. "Yeah, maybe their offices were, but i bet the worker's don't have those luxuries".

"Huge factory, made mine look small", he boasts. "And the workers all had modern and clean apartments provided as part of their jobs!"

I'm thinking that Soviet State Provided Housing was probably considered modern at some stage.

"Are they allowed to come and go as they please from the compound?"

"Well..." I can see him thinking how to spin this. "The fences are there for *their* protection, it's safer to stay in the compound and they have everything they need there so they don't want to leave".

I wondered about the reality of that statement.

He continued rambling, "And the craftmanship they were putting in... You couldn't get that kind of skilled labour here". He omitted the part where they're probably paid less in a year that the cost of the drink he's holding.

He waddles off to boast to someone how might be more obviously impressed. His son leans over to me, seeing the worried look on my face.

"It was well-lit, clean and heated," he said. "Think about where Aunt Margaret works".

That's my mum. She works in a large tin shed with no doors or windows. I worked there for a while when I was in high school You can't tell if it's day or night and lose all track of time. In summer it's amazingly hot, in winter you can't feel your fingers and have to wear a coat and hat and fingerless gloves to be able to work assembling the fiddly little parts together. You can't see your work for you breathe. It's Dickensian.

I shrugged at the reality of the situation.

My cousin leans close and makes sure his father is occupied elsewhere. "You know what the funniest part was? I was lagging behind with one of the translators and one of the worker's asked him to ask me something..."

He continues. "... they wanted to know what these samples they were making *was*. What was it for? So i explained to the translator it was a Pelmet that sat over the window in a house with clear plastic on the front, so when the person gets bored of the colour or it doesn't match their furniture they can just slide the fabric out and replace it with new rather than having to buy a whole new Pelmet".

He took a long sip of his drink, looked over to his father, then back to me.

"The translator told the worker. The worker looked confused. The translator explained again. The workers around him were listening. And then they all started *laughing*. The worker said something to the translator, I asked him what it was but i could tell he didn't want to tell me. Eventually he said they wanted to know why anyone would think they *needed* such a useless thing at all to buy it?"

He looked me in the eyes. "They're laughing at us and our useless shit. Dad might be exploiting them but they think the crap they're making is *ridiculous*. They think we're *idiots*".

I looked over at my Uncle, holding court, bragging loudly to all and sundry in his badly fitting suit, all double chin and Plastic Toupee That Fools No-One.

I think 'If The Shoe Fits', but for the sake of family harmony I bite my tongue.

7:10 PM  
Anonymous Kevin said...

I want in on the ground floor - ain't it about six feet below sea level?

8:46 PM  

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