The Obscurer

Rent Seeking

Well, that’s me for a while. I am about to set off for a cottage in Cornwall for a fortnight, and when I get back this ol’ blog will be moving to its all-new-all-singing-all-dancing domain of www.obscurer.co.uk. Exciting huh? Don’t click on that link now as it will just redirect you back here in a sort of “looking at a reflection of a mirror in a mirror until infinity” type thing. I will post here again the day before the big move, probably on the 25th of May, and the new site should go live on the evening of the 26th if all goes according to plan, which it almost certainly won’t. It is all an act of spectacular pointlessness I know, the main purpose of which will be for me to plummet down the Google rankings; but holding the domain name for about a year and doing very little with it is also pretty pointless, so you takes your pick.

But for now my thought are for Cornwall, land of oddness both ancient and modern. We are fortunate enough to be going in time to catch the historic Helston “Furry Dance” as we did a couple of years ago, although that occasion was somewhat marred by my son’s undiagnosed lethargy throughout the festivities, which we finally found out was due to an ear infection, but not before some frantic drives between Penzance and Truro hospitals. Hopefully the Furry Dance will pass off this year without any such concerns.

For examples of recent Cornish eccentricity how about this record shop we spotted last time we were in Falmouth, surely the most unenthusiastically named shop in history. It is certainly the antithesis of CD-Wow. Or The Rising Sun pub in Mevagissey which advertises itself on its website by saying “once you have found us, please remember to KEEP THE SECRET”, an unusual tactic for any business to adopt I would have thought. I suppose it could be a double bluff, getting people like me to spread the name of the pub by word of mouth while simultaneously conveying the image that it is a lovely quiet pub, I really don’t know.

No, Cornwall is odd, but I love it; I feel right at home there. I wonder why? See you in a few weeks.

End Of An Era

It was Halloween, appropriately enough. I was sat on the bus travelling back from the City of Manchester Stadium. We had just convincingly defeated Aston Villa 3-1 to go 4th in the Premiership. The bus was abuzz with chatter about how well we were doing, my Dad was positively beside himself revelling in a glorious season; but it was there that I first toyed with the idea of not renewing my City season ticket.

I suppose all football fans have had that “what am I doing here” feeling from time to time, but this one was different. Sat alone amongst a sea of blue plastic seats when I watched us tumble out of the League Cup to Lincoln a few years ago, beaten by a comical goal in front of a few thousand spectators, you can understand why I questioned my sanity; but in those days there seemed something to fight for and I couldn’t desert my team at such a time. But to question your loyalty when you are in the top six on merit, possibly looking at a European place, and yet you are bored witless, signified something deeper.

In part it is down to City’s circumstances. For years we City fans were treated to relegation battles and promotion scrapes on an almost annual basis. Now, (more or less) comfortable after four straight seasons in the Premiership, there seems little to fight for. I never thought we would hold onto 4th spot, and we didn’t, but nowadays that is the very top of our ambitions, and it doesn’t excite me. Outside the top clubs the very best you can hope for is to fluke a good season into the preliminary round of the Champions League, where you are unlikely to even survive as long as the last of the summer’s wasps. Fall a bit short and you could still end up in the UEFA cup. Whoo-hoo. Last time we competed in that competition it just served as an irritant, forcing us to reschedule the few remaining fixtures that hadn’t already been rescheduled by Sky. So on that Halloween night I realised that for a City fan this was about as good as it was likely to get, and I wasn’t inspired.

But it’s not just City, it is football in general. I remember in the old days you would watch a match where one side would put the other team under a bit of pressure, where the crowd would roar as your team forced corner after corner, or your side would defend valiantly against your opponents onslaught which could last for 10 or 20 minutes. That rarely seems to happen nowadays as teams act so negatively, even coming to such an anti-fortress as Eastlands deciding to pack midfield for 90 minutes and get bodies behind the ball to hopefully force a 0-0 draw. Goals and chances appear, if ever, seemingly out of nothing following a prolonged period of probing and parrying. If in days gone by teams could be said to press forward trying to inflict a knockout blow, today sides spend much of the match sparring, while I sit in the stand and daydream.

I think Jose Mourinho has had a negative influence on the game. With all the wealth at his disposal he could have built a wonderful side in whatever image he chose; but he went for a solid, dependable and relentless unit. He deserves his success, but I don’t want to watch his side. He also seems to have influenced other managers in their dealings with the press; the Wenger “I didn’t see it” has been replaced by the Mourinho “I did see it, and there was nothing wrong with it”. I am getting pretty tired of referees and their assistants making correct decisions only for the managers to defend their players antics and cry victimisation. I am not trying to pin all the blame on Mourinho, but he deserves his fair share.

This all seems a bit unfair on Stuart Pearce. Under his stewardship City are more attack minded than many other sides, and in interviews he seems almost saint-like in his reasonableness. It isn’t his fault, but that is the way it is. Since making my decision not to renew my season ticket I have seen little down at Eastlands to make me change my mind or regret my decision. Almost every game I have seen, win or lose, seems to follow the same dull and un-engaging pattern. I still intend to go to the odd game, and I will watch matches on TV (in the pub or at my parents’) and on the (ahem) internet, where it is easier to sack it if it is boring; but the sense of duty which kept me going for a while is long gone. With tonight’s 3-1 defeat to Arsenal (ironically one of the more entertaining games this season) I have watched my last match as a season ticket holder, and the overwhelming feeling is one of relief.

My Mother Is A Fish

…and I am a Plant. But a few years ago I was a Monitor Evaluator. So has the world changed or have I changed?

I’m talking about Belbin’s Team Roles, and for the second time in my life I have filled out one of their self-perception questionnaires that in theory indicates where I should ideally fit into a company or organisation. In short the questionnaire is divided into seven sections (eg.“What I believe I can contribute to a team”) and for each section you are given several different options that could apply to you (eg. “Producing ideas is one of my natural assets”, “I can work well with a very wide range of people” etc.). You must allocate 10 points to the possible answers in each section; say 7 points to the option that you feel strongly applies to you, 3 point to an option that you feel is only partially appropriate, and no points to those options that you don’t feel are relevant at all. By following the matrix at the back of the questionnaire you can then discover your ideal role in a team, be it a Shaper, a Co-ordinator, a Resource Investigator, and so on.

So I am a Plant, which apparently meant that I am “creative, imaginative, unorthodox”. Plants “solve difficult problems”. On the other hand I “ignore incidentals” and I am “too pre-occupied to communicate effectively”. A few years ago, however, on the previous occasion that I completed the questionnaire, I was a Monitor Evaluator, which means I was “sober, strategic and discerning”, I would “see all options” and “judge accurately”, but I would also “lack the drive and ability to inspire others”. So which is the real me?

Perhaps I have changed over the intervening years; more likely I suspect that if I were to take the test several times I would each time provide some slightly different responses and so produce a slightly different result. I am not saying the test is total bollocks – I reckon I will never get the results that elevate me to the level of a Resource Investigator (extrovert, enthusiastic, communicative, explores opportunities, develops contacts) or a Shaper (challenging, dynamic, thrives on pressure, the drive and courage to overcome obstacles), they don’t sound like me at all – but I reckon it is mainly bollocks, that’s all.

Because I just don’t know what the purpose of such a survey is, other than to make lots of money for Dr. Belbin. I know what it is meant to do; ideally the test should work out each individual’s attributes and where each employee fits into the team to assist management in arranging the right mix of talents, but does it? Shouldn’t managers be able to ascertain peoples’ abilities without relying on a test such as this? My boss gushed evangelically when she passed the test out, saying to each of us that when we discovered what our team role was we would be amazed at how closely it matched how we see ourselves; but this is hardly surprising when you consider it is a selfperception survey, and so you will be answering the questions as you think you are, which may or may not tally with reality. You may have zero leadership qualities, but if you think you are a great leader then you will answer the questions as if you are Alexander The Great; you will land yourself with a leadership team role according to Belbin, so confirming your own opinion of yourself. When you bear in mind that it is a self-perception survey it would be pretty weird if your Belbin role didn’t fit with your own self-image.

I am not casting aspersions upon Dr. Belbin’s credentials, I am sure he is eminently qualified, but what is to stop someone like myself without any training in the field coming up with my own test if I wanted to? I could create a management quiz where the answers people give would mean they are divided into, oh I don’t know, sheep, goats, wolves and aspidistras; but would it necessarily mean anything? In my case it would be about as scientific as one of those “Are you a chocoholic?” quizzes in Take A Break; but that needn’t prevent it being picked up by a certain type of manager and passed on to their undeserving staff.

And I am not saying that there is no role for management theory, there are probably nuggets of good advice in all management books, and from what I have read of Dr. Belbin he makes some pertinent points, but I think a lot of management is more about common sense than the burgeoning and lucrative management theory industry would like us to believe. Things are often much simpler than people would have us imagine; for example, when I worked in a call handing centre we underwent countless changes to our “opening salutation”, to the order and style in which we answered the calls according to the latest management fad. Ultimately, though, you can theorise to your heart’s content; the best way to provide a good service on the phone is to employ competent and polite people.

Everyone seems to want to build their part. When I was doing my economics degree I reckoned that here was a social science that fancied itself as being a natural science; then when I did a post-graduate diploma in marketing I was conscious that I was studying a management discipline that aspired to being a social science, like economics. The fact is that management is far more art than science; but I guess the arts don’t pay as well. You can’t really blame the likes of Dr. Belbin for trying; but you can question the people who lap up this sort of thing.

Wave Goodbye

A relieved cheer went up over the Quinn household last night as Syed was finally fired from The Apprentice. A few weeks ago I said I expected Sharon and Tuan to be the next ones to be sacked and expressed the concern that Syed would win the thing; in the event I was spot on about the first two but by last week I had changed my mind about Syed. We never saw his redemption as predicted by Heat magazine’s Mark Frith, but up against Ruth and Tuan in last week’s boardroom I thought I could see the writing on the wall. Syed could survive against a nonentity like Taun, but head to head against someone of Ruth’s calibre and I couldn’t see him staying, and that is how events turned out.

Week by week Syed revealed himself to be an empty vessel. His main talent, as far as I could discern, was an incompetence verging on the illegal; by not collecting the right keys when letting a flat, to claiming a car would increase in value when selling to a customer, to forgetting to write the contestant’s names on the backs of raffle tickets he had sold and then considering not entering those tickets into the draw when he realised his mistake (or rather when Ruth pointed it out to him). The only thing that Syed could say in his favour was that he was a good salesman, but even there I found him unconvincing and amateurish; only his ludicrous self-confidence helped him out, forcing him to keep going well past the point where I would have thrown in the towel, and so enabling him to get sales more by persistence and the law of averages than by genuine ability. Such perseverance is valuable, but I think it can only get you so far.

But enough about Syed; I imagine that, beyond a brief stint on the Z-list celebrity circuit we have seen the last of him and we can allow him to get down to honing his “genius”, as he intoned straight faced on last nights “The Apprentice: You’re Fired”. Two weeks left to go on The Apprentice then, and if there is any justice it will be Paul and Ruth in the final. Michelle seems like a little girl, out of her depth and lucky to be there largely by dint of having ended up on the winning side a good few times. Ansell is a bit of a wild card; he quietly gets on with things and doesn’t do much wrong so it depends upon how he does in his interview, but for me the Tulip and the Badger are the standout candidates.

When I first wrote about The Apprentice I was pretty scathing about the lot of them, damning them all and tarring each contestant with the same “business idiot” brush. Now, however, I have a lot more time and respect for Ansell, Ruth and Paul and I would be happy if any of them won, although by rights I think it should be Ruth. So The Apprentice has also been a valuable lesson for me in looking beneath the obvious, beyond my own prejudices and in judging each person as an individual. It has also boosted my readership considerably (although I doubt it will last), thanks to this link and to the numerous people searching Google for “syed apprentice” who have come this way. This post should keep that hit counter ticking along nicely thank you very much; sorry to anyone who feels I have wasted their time.

Write The Theme Tune, Sing The Theme Tune

I don’t, if I’m being honest, usually if ever watch BBC1’s offering New Tricks of a Monday night, but readjusting to British Summer Time following a weekend away in New York it was the perfect brainless nonsense to ignore while I tried to work out what time it was in the Big Apple and therefore if I was justified in feeling as tired as I did.

It wasn’t great, but it was at least an improvement on what I’d seen of American telly (24 hour news whingeing about gas prices for 24 hours) and the unwatchable BBC America (can you believe four hours of back to back Cash In The Attic interspersed with adverts for Footballers Wive$ on Saturday evening as we were getting ready to go out?).

Yes, New Tricks seemed the perfect sort of rubbish to switch your brain off to, only I couldn’t relax because I was transfixed by Dennis Waterman’s lower face. Even when he wasn’t on screen all I could think of was the way he seemed to be struggling around his mouth furniture, as he had apparently transmogrified in front of my eyes into the vicar from Dick Emery.

In fact, with this in mind, perhaps New Teeth would be a more apt title for this series?

PostScript: You will be as disappointed as me to learn that, according to the New Tricks website

The theme tune, sung by Dennis Waterman, is not commercially available, and there are no plans for it to be released.

This is upsetting. If Dennis Waterman is still so deluded, post Little Britain, that he has talents as a singer, then the least he can do is to release the song as a single and test himself in the marketplace. Perhaps he fears the customer is a little more discerning in 2006 compared with his glory days of the ‘Eighties.

PostPostScript: My foreign jaunt explains in part my failure to cover the continuing tale of Charles Clarke, but only so far, as there seems little point in me engaging in a bit of belated “me too” blogging when I have nothing to add except the obvious and many others have said all that needs to be said on the matter(s). No, this is the place for irrelevant twaddle about actors’ false teeth. Next week, when Tony Blair is arrested for a public order offence and put on an ASBO I will probably be talking about Jonathan Ross’s haircut. Stay tuned.