Tuesday 18 January 2011
The North Is Risen!
How the north has left it’s indelible mark of a tainted past on modern business sentiment;
Dickensian manufactories. The hard slog. Armies of frowning underpaid workers. The mental grime of hard toil. Dragging yourself to work before sunrise. Accepting the truth that work is to be endured not enjoyed. Putting up with an ungrateful boss who thrives on micromanagement of your every detail. Criticism is the only currency. Never a “thank you” in sight. Get in and get out as fast as you can. Clock off, run home and savour every second before, all too soon, another day beckons.
Sound familiar ? Until recently this was history. Orwell’s “the Road To Wigan Pier”, Scrooge’s references to “the workhouses” in Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol” and LS Lowry’s doom swept mill-gate landscape masterpieces could be enjoyed safe in the knowledge that this sordid past was securely condemned to the history books. The service sector boomed as the sun set on the long days of mindless hard labour. Those iconic quarry-stone factories of Richard Arkwright and Titus Salt re-opened as museums and tourist attractions all across the Pennine mill towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire. Surely a lesson learned ?
Not so. Yet it all began so well.
As London led the new dawn of a sophisticated and brighter tertiary sector, populated by a labour force that actually enjoyed adding value to people’s lives, the forgeries of Sheffield and the harsh cold infrastructure of Cotton-opolis fell into terminal disrepair. New bespoke professions added a layer of creativity to the offering, from the genius of the ad man to the nuanced sophistry of stylists, artists, IP lawyers, high street accountants and PC game designers. Waterside glass atria stood tall as the signature of a sensitive, hopeful and just out-right brighter future. These were the 70’s, ‘80’s and ‘90’s. Commercial evolution encapsulated a new promise.
Internal hierarchies tumbled. Office wall divides fell in true Berlin-esque fashion. First name terms abounded, job titles became optional and/or meaningless, junior staff members were consulted on daily business strategy decisions. Even the days of women being treated like the blacks and Irish before them sounded their death knells. If one wasn’t very much mistaken, human respect was on the up. Oh joy of joys.Surely things can only get better from hereon in. Evolution is a one way street is it not ?
Eh....No.
Naomi Klein was quick off the mark with her visionary and devastating critique of the deeper, long-term effects of globalization in “No Logo” - a work of seminal genius probably too ahead of it’s time for it’s message to be gotten whole if you devoured it, as I did, in 2001.
(For a counter-argument on globalization - which focuses more on the clever technological advancements of modern times - Thomas Friedman’s “The World Is Flat” is recommended.)
The full power of a good analogy or case-study is often utilised by deployment of a polemic or extreme example, and Naomi (first name terms, remember!) duly obliged with a brave exposee of child labour in far off lands courtesy of Nike and Gap, and environmental vandalism courtesy of Dunlop and such like. But all this was too, well, far away. Too indirect. Too un-affecting of me and my every day small life.
Skip forward ten years and the real effect of the new business model has made itself apparent much closer to home. Now it’s real!
The massive march toward pure efficiency and productivity that is synonymous with the new global mobilization of labour and capital doesn’t just wreck the odd rain forest or condemn young Indonesian kids to the 21st Century’s version of Dickensian workhouse misery. Though it sure does this too.
It also regiments the new hope that I was describing just now. It pitilessly removes the new creative expressions of a more cultured and humane service sector and plummets it right back to the depths of Arkwright’s Derwent valley factories. It re-instates the old mindless arrogant hierarchies, internalizing them safely out of sight of the prospective customer base. Ordered instructions make a return, replacing the short-lived consultancy bosses who sought your opinions and valued your input. As all focus turns to the bottom line, the dollar, the share price, the gross profit margin - and as all higher ambitions are trumped by the myopic obsession with today’s or this week’s figures and unit return-on-investment, what we end up with is a shiny new office on the outside that is nothing more than a mechanical slave labour device on the inside.
Not only are we ditching the job satisfaction of the more junior employees, but customer satisfaction eventually takes a back seat too. Countless call centre oriented businesses around the UK are more interested in a one-hit culture where customers are fleeced once never to return. Knowing this, lots of modern outfits (and I’ve worked for a few so I’m not making unfounded opaque platitudes here) face a stark choice; increase the quality of the service on offer or make sure that if you fleece customers in a one-off never-to-return style, you fleece them real good. They choose the latter.
We wind up right back where we started. Jaded hoards of sullen workers giving over their lives to mindless robotic chores that yield up absolutely no sense of worth, nor any opportunity to learn and grow. In return for this, they receive multiple digs daily from the boss. Feeling just enough of a failure continuously to carry the blame for their predicament and feeling that target-soaked nirvana is just close enough to warrant another stab at tomorrow, underpaid un-thanked workers, rather than seeing their bosses for the manipulative tyrants they are, blame themselves for underachieving and clock-on first thing the next day. Alas the cycle rolls.
Sure, this trend is phenomenal right across the UK but up north it’s just so much more in your face, it makes me laugh. Twenty years ago, before the IT comms explosion, all sectors of my field - media - had fewer players in the market and a bigger emphasis on quality. Barriers to entry meant that it cost a fair whack to set up in business - whether you were a designer, a publisher, a creative ad man, a media planner or buyer, a PR agent or an image photographer. Hence the emphasis on quality and hence why London boomed at this and the provinces couldn’t get a look in. The qualities of Account Management and Business Development resonant of this era perfectly matched the qualities of the London-centric approach to service-based work. Knowledge-based, pro-active, intelligent lead-sourcing, post-curricular business consulting and an all round professional and intensive bespoke offering from semi-autonomous individuals who would be willing to meet clients over breakfast, lunch or dinner to strategize and impart trade news and shape product launches and brand-repositioning campaigns based on the latest intelligence. Up north at the same time, such top end service was anathema.
Lawyers, journalists, accountants, creative ad men and media salesmen have all witnessed a job description similar to that last paragraph disintegrate into a homogenized factory floor of mindless monotony where the software does the thinking and you churn out the numbers.
Dickensian manufactories. The hard slog. Armies of frowning underpaid workers. The mental grime of hard toil. Dragging yourself to work before sunrise. Accepting the truth that work is to be endured not enjoyed. Putting up with an ungrateful boss who thrives on micromanagement of your every detail. Criticism is the only currency. Never a “thank you” in sight. Get in and get out as fast as you can. Clock off, run home and savour every second before, all too soon, another day beckons.
Sound familiar ? Until recently this was history. Orwell’s “the Road To Wigan Pier”, Scrooge’s references to “the workhouses” in Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol” and LS Lowry’s doom swept mill-gate landscape masterpieces could be enjoyed safe in the knowledge that this sordid past was securely condemned to the history books. The service sector boomed as the sun set on the long days of mindless hard labour. Those iconic quarry-stone factories of Richard Arkwright and Titus Salt re-opened as museums and tourist attractions all across the Pennine mill towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire. Surely a lesson learned ?
Not so. Yet it all began so well.
As London led the new dawn of a sophisticated and brighter tertiary sector, populated by a labour force that actually enjoyed adding value to people’s lives, the forgeries of Sheffield and the harsh cold infrastructure of Cotton-opolis fell into terminal disrepair. New bespoke professions added a layer of creativity to the offering, from the genius of the ad man to the nuanced sophistry of stylists, artists, IP lawyers, high street accountants and PC game designers. Waterside glass atria stood tall as the signature of a sensitive, hopeful and just out-right brighter future. These were the 70’s, ‘80’s and ‘90’s. Commercial evolution encapsulated a new promise.
Internal hierarchies tumbled. Office wall divides fell in true Berlin-esque fashion. First name terms abounded, job titles became optional and/or meaningless, junior staff members were consulted on daily business strategy decisions. Even the days of women being treated like the blacks and Irish before them sounded their death knells. If one wasn’t very much mistaken, human respect was on the up. Oh joy of joys.Surely things can only get better from hereon in. Evolution is a one way street is it not ?
Eh....No.
Naomi Klein was quick off the mark with her visionary and devastating critique of the deeper, long-term effects of globalization in “No Logo” - a work of seminal genius probably too ahead of it’s time for it’s message to be gotten whole if you devoured it, as I did, in 2001.
(For a counter-argument on globalization - which focuses more on the clever technological advancements of modern times - Thomas Friedman’s “The World Is Flat” is recommended.)
The full power of a good analogy or case-study is often utilised by deployment of a polemic or extreme example, and Naomi (first name terms, remember!) duly obliged with a brave exposee of child labour in far off lands courtesy of Nike and Gap, and environmental vandalism courtesy of Dunlop and such like. But all this was too, well, far away. Too indirect. Too un-affecting of me and my every day small life.
Skip forward ten years and the real effect of the new business model has made itself apparent much closer to home. Now it’s real!
The massive march toward pure efficiency and productivity that is synonymous with the new global mobilization of labour and capital doesn’t just wreck the odd rain forest or condemn young Indonesian kids to the 21st Century’s version of Dickensian workhouse misery. Though it sure does this too.
It also regiments the new hope that I was describing just now. It pitilessly removes the new creative expressions of a more cultured and humane service sector and plummets it right back to the depths of Arkwright’s Derwent valley factories. It re-instates the old mindless arrogant hierarchies, internalizing them safely out of sight of the prospective customer base. Ordered instructions make a return, replacing the short-lived consultancy bosses who sought your opinions and valued your input. As all focus turns to the bottom line, the dollar, the share price, the gross profit margin - and as all higher ambitions are trumped by the myopic obsession with today’s or this week’s figures and unit return-on-investment, what we end up with is a shiny new office on the outside that is nothing more than a mechanical slave labour device on the inside.
Not only are we ditching the job satisfaction of the more junior employees, but customer satisfaction eventually takes a back seat too. Countless call centre oriented businesses around the UK are more interested in a one-hit culture where customers are fleeced once never to return. Knowing this, lots of modern outfits (and I’ve worked for a few so I’m not making unfounded opaque platitudes here) face a stark choice; increase the quality of the service on offer or make sure that if you fleece customers in a one-off never-to-return style, you fleece them real good. They choose the latter.
We wind up right back where we started. Jaded hoards of sullen workers giving over their lives to mindless robotic chores that yield up absolutely no sense of worth, nor any opportunity to learn and grow. In return for this, they receive multiple digs daily from the boss. Feeling just enough of a failure continuously to carry the blame for their predicament and feeling that target-soaked nirvana is just close enough to warrant another stab at tomorrow, underpaid un-thanked workers, rather than seeing their bosses for the manipulative tyrants they are, blame themselves for underachieving and clock-on first thing the next day. Alas the cycle rolls.
Sure, this trend is phenomenal right across the UK but up north it’s just so much more in your face, it makes me laugh. Twenty years ago, before the IT comms explosion, all sectors of my field - media - had fewer players in the market and a bigger emphasis on quality. Barriers to entry meant that it cost a fair whack to set up in business - whether you were a designer, a publisher, a creative ad man, a media planner or buyer, a PR agent or an image photographer. Hence the emphasis on quality and hence why London boomed at this and the provinces couldn’t get a look in. The qualities of Account Management and Business Development resonant of this era perfectly matched the qualities of the London-centric approach to service-based work. Knowledge-based, pro-active, intelligent lead-sourcing, post-curricular business consulting and an all round professional and intensive bespoke offering from semi-autonomous individuals who would be willing to meet clients over breakfast, lunch or dinner to strategize and impart trade news and shape product launches and brand-repositioning campaigns based on the latest intelligence. Up north at the same time, such top end service was anathema.
Lawyers, journalists, accountants, creative ad men and media salesmen have all witnessed a job description similar to that last paragraph disintegrate into a homogenized factory floor of mindless monotony where the software does the thinking and you churn out the numbers.
I'm not addressing every profession and sector here. Or even sales in it's entirety. Music and sports rights, law, intellectual property and education still retain a rude streak of integrity and knowledge-based creativity even in their sales arms. I've sat around the table closing deals with the likes of Sony BMG, Manchester United, Vodafone, O2, T Mobile, Budweiser and Motorola. I'm aware of the Third Tier commercial team at University of Manchester and I've strategized with ISM or "International Sports Management" over digital content syndication. The quality is still rife here. Yet elsewhere the journey from professional consultant to call centre fodder is all but complete. Skills decline. Salaries become risible. The worth and craft of the job-proper totally disappears and everyone becomes time-poor and miserable. But the profit margins for the stakeholders are now astronomical and so that’s OK. In this sense we have totally out-Thatchered the Thatcher years. We have out-nineteen eighty’d the power dressers in our deification of the profit line. It’s just that it’s all so out of sight these days. You never actually see it anymore.
Sure, you’ll still get the Ben Elton parody hanging around his 911 on the main street of Alderley Edge, complete with his missus who took Footballer’s Wives a little too seriously. And Wall Street traders will always publicly worship their hundred dollar bills in the eateries of downtown Manhattan. But the real money-soaked masses have mainly decamped to the Cayman islands surrounded by their bunches of dancing girls. They got richer and largely more private.
And so the north has risen!
When quality, integrity and style were the essence of doing business, London ruled. Cue the new dumbing down and suddenly the provinces are back in power. How so ? It’s because the new money-drive is really a return to the days of yore. As I mentioned already, office culture has turned full circle and the sales arms of anyone from software developers to search marketers now seek to be housed in Dickensian modernia. Who better than the north to provide this ? Sons of Orwell, Dickens and Lowry take a bow.
Stroll, if you dare, through many an office in central Leeds, Newcastle or Manchester and you’d see what I mean. They’ve laid out the banks of PC workstations like the lines of the old cotton weaving textile looms. These are populated by a substrata of wordless juniors who scurry to their desks at 859am, head bowed with flask and plastic box of home made sandwiches in hand. They gingerly log-on seconds before nine, thereby avoiding the wrath of the well dressed and upright male boss whose office is in full view to the banks of his minions and whose PC is automatically notified of any late comers logging on at 901am. I’m serious. Out onto the shop floor he swaggers like Caligula and everyone tenses up, waiting for the vocal jibes and the public accusations. They duly arrive.
Hats off to the north. They’ve done offices the only way they know how. They’ve done them like factories.
Some things don’t change.
…..................................
Sure, you’ll still get the Ben Elton parody hanging around his 911 on the main street of Alderley Edge, complete with his missus who took Footballer’s Wives a little too seriously. And Wall Street traders will always publicly worship their hundred dollar bills in the eateries of downtown Manhattan. But the real money-soaked masses have mainly decamped to the Cayman islands surrounded by their bunches of dancing girls. They got richer and largely more private.
And so the north has risen!
When quality, integrity and style were the essence of doing business, London ruled. Cue the new dumbing down and suddenly the provinces are back in power. How so ? It’s because the new money-drive is really a return to the days of yore. As I mentioned already, office culture has turned full circle and the sales arms of anyone from software developers to search marketers now seek to be housed in Dickensian modernia. Who better than the north to provide this ? Sons of Orwell, Dickens and Lowry take a bow.
Stroll, if you dare, through many an office in central Leeds, Newcastle or Manchester and you’d see what I mean. They’ve laid out the banks of PC workstations like the lines of the old cotton weaving textile looms. These are populated by a substrata of wordless juniors who scurry to their desks at 859am, head bowed with flask and plastic box of home made sandwiches in hand. They gingerly log-on seconds before nine, thereby avoiding the wrath of the well dressed and upright male boss whose office is in full view to the banks of his minions and whose PC is automatically notified of any late comers logging on at 901am. I’m serious. Out onto the shop floor he swaggers like Caligula and everyone tenses up, waiting for the vocal jibes and the public accusations. They duly arrive.
Hats off to the north. They’ve done offices the only way they know how. They’ve done them like factories.
Some things don’t change.
…..................................
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