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 The title of this month's missive is not, as you would first think, about whether your uncle is any good at doing his job. However, the circumstantial evidence is that should he be employed in providing you with a service of any kind, then he won't be, but that's not the point. At least, it's not the whole point.
It's a subject that's been whinged about in this column many times.
That is, the gradual increase over the last thirty years in the number
of people who are completely incapable of doing the task for which they
are paid. The worst thing is, not only are they incompetent, but most
of them don't seem to know they are. And even if they do acknowledge
they aren't quite up to the task, they just don't care, but continue to
take home the bacon anyway.
It's one of those 'two types of people' dividing lines. There are those
who know their own limitations, no matter how high or low the
individual bar is set, which identifies them as intelligent people,
even if they've never passed a formal exam in their life. The
self-knowledge and understanding of humanity such an attitude
demonstrates reflects very well on those people in all circumstances.
Unfortunately, the second group is the largest. These are people that
aren't clever enough to know they are stupid.
This has all been brought to a head with the fairly recent tale of the
US Airways pilot called Chesley B. Sullenberger - 'Sully' to his
friends - whose ’plane hit a flock of birds as he was ascending fast
over New York City. The result of this collision was that both engines
failed. Now, it's a wonder that sixty odd tons of Airbus can fly under
any circumstances at all, but devoid of power, the word 'plummet' is
the one that springs to mind as the most appropriate to describe its
probable trajectory over the next few seconds.
Then Captain Sullenberger came to the rescue. Not only did he manage to
get the ’plane down safely, he was also skillful enough as a pilot to
guide it onto the Hudson River. This meant that not only was there no
loss of life on the ’plane, but neither was anyone on the ground harmed
either. A feat of quite astonishing competence. That word again -
competence.
So let's compare Captain Sully's act with something a little more down
to earth (pun intended) and prosaic. Something we mortals can get our
head around. How about the gasman coming to service your boiler on the
day you've booked him to do it. Now, as the Americans say, you do the
math. What do you think are the relative difficulties of safely
crash-landing a fully loaded passenger jet with no power against
getting into a white van and going to an address sometime on the day
you agreed? If the gasman is worth one, what's the pilot worth? A
thousand? A million? Let's be generous to the gasman and stop there - a
million to one it is.
A quick Google will reveal that the average pilot earns about £120k a
year. I'll bet all the passengers on that particular flight thought
their pilot was worth billions a year, but we'll work with his real
salary. Now let's assume a gasman earns about £30k a year. That's one
quarter of the pilot's wage, but the degree of difficulty of his job is
but one millionth of the pilot's. Who would you place a bet on was the
more likely to accomplish his task satisfactorily though? It wouldn't
be the gasman, would it?
Now let's assume the pilot is fairly rewarded at £120k, and divide that
by one million and see what the gasman should be paid. Twelve pence
(12p) a year is the answer. So our gasman is actually being paid
250,000 times what he's worth, yet still the bastard can’t arrive on
time.
And there, ladies and gentlemen, is the crux of the whole argument.
Simply turning up on the day you say you will is so feckin' easy, yet
accomplished so rarely, you can but shake your head at the utter
incompetence and uselessness of so many service providers. And just in
case anyone thinks we're picking on the gasman unfairly, let's
emphasise he was just an example. We could just as easily have used
broadband suppliers, call-centre managers, delivery companies, train
operators - just about every British service company will have a huge
band of disillusioned, frustrated and angry customers trailing along in
its wake.
There is another way to look at this, of course, and one that is a
little less harsh on the gasman. That view is that clearly the pilot
has a huge self interest in doing his job competently, because if he
falls short, he dies along with all the passengers. So maybe that's
what we should do to gasmen. If they fail to turn up, or they make your
boiler worse than it was before they started to service it, then a huge
spike should come out of their white van seat and spear them to the
roof. They might be a bit more interested in doing their job properly
then, don't you think?
The small bit at the end...
It's been a while since this column had a rant about speed cameras. It's time once again.
The bloody things returned to mind recently when there was a story in
the newspapers about some heroic kids in Maryland, USA, who have come
up with a terrific wheeze to ‘stick it to the man’ (Jack Black fans
will recognise the phrase). What they have been doing is pasting false
number plates over the real ones on their cars, then deliberately
screaming past speed cameras to trigger the automatic issue of a
ticket. In that state, apparently, the ticket and associated fine is
the responsibility of the car's owner, no matter who was driving at the
time. A bit unfair and illogical, of course, but that's speed cameras
for you the world over. Nobody who ever put a GATSO up ever let logic
and facts get in the way of their desire.
Obviously, as the plates aren't real, the kids never get a ticket and
have had a bit of fun screwing up the procedures and processes of the
local law enforcement agencies. A metaphorical finger to the
authorities is what they're giving and that trick alone would be good
enough for them to warrant an entry into the motoring hall of fame. But
it gets better.
The plates are not actually false as such; they are genuine numbers.
It's just that they don't happen to belong to the cars the kids are
driving. No, they are the real life numbers of the cars belonging to
their teachers. And that extra little twist turns the whole deal from a
worthy prank into an act of heroic rebellion.
Let's be clear here. It's impossible to have anything personal against
those teachers whose identity, let alone personality, are completely
unknown. Most of them are certainly undeserving to be the butt of such
a jape. They must be feeling a sense of grievance even worse than that
of those of us caught driving perfectly safely on the M11, but a bit
faster than some faceless bureaucrat decides he wants us to.
But, as has been said here before, speed cameras have nothing to do
with safety, and probably not even much to do with revenue. No, it's
just a very handy way of 'them' letting 'us' know who is in charge, and
keeping us in our place. Just one more step towards the glorious day
when you'll have to get personal permission from Gordon Brown if you
want to fart. And there'll be a couple of civil servants standing by
with a clipboard to record your emission, so that they can tick some
boxes and confirm government targets for anal gasses have been met yet
again. Well done, Gordy.
Not quite sure how a cheer for rebellious teenagers wandered into
hatred for Gordon Brown and all he stands for, but there you go, it's
easily done.
Especially as we've got incompetence on our mind.
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