Ahhh, it's always the same ones. The 'Thank you sweetheart, the food and service was amazing', or 'I haven't had food like that since 1999, and your smile, priceless'. That's really when I should step in and say, yes, there is a price, it's called a tip and it's generally 10 percent! But I hold back, and watch them sweet talk the kitchen staff, again talking up the food and how fabulous it is coming from a small kitchen. We (the minimum wage staff) all play the game, laughing at their lame jokes and thank them for enjoying the meal.
Then, the all important part. The bill comes to the table, the words of praise continue as I once again join in on their banal banter. A credit card comes out and there is a moment where I think, should I ask them if they want to leave a tip by card, but I think again. They've loved the mealed and couldn't get enough of my witty banter, of course they'll leave a tip. The suspense builds as the wallet comes out of the back pocket once again, but the wait is to see if it will leave a cash tip, or if it's just to place the card in it's very snug pocket. I walk away from the table, their coats come on, they shower even more praise and walk out the door. And am I really surprised, the saucer is empty, I should have known, because it's always the same ones!
Well, it's onto another day, where I'm sure I will play the same game and lose once again. But I don't worry, I win a few too!
Monday, 14 September 2009
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Footballers wages: it's an old money game
After a day of being on edge and struggling for the inspiration for something to write, I found myself unfairly attacking my other half (the better half in this situation!) on the unbelievable wages of football players. While he was innocently talking about his most respected football manager Manchester’s Alex Ferguson, I went on a tirade about how footballers are all spoilt brats and they are paid far too much money to simply play a game. The recent £136 million spent so far by Real Madrid to buy both Cristiano Ronaldo and Kaka my case in point, given the latest projections of unemployment set to reach three million by next year.
Well, to say the other half and his father were taken aback would be an understatement, to the point where I was advised that maybe I had found my passion on what to write about in an article. So I sheepishly retreated after the better half gave me a look to relax and stop cursing as everybody in the pub was slightly perturbed! Not my finest moment, I will admit, but the massive expenditure had really worked its way up my skirt. So here it is, more calmly put in print, my feelings on the exuberant amount of cash paid to young men to play a game, that is kept popular by the love of the fans.
Arriving in the UK only 18 months ago, the first of the wild wages I was to hear about was the talk of £230 million for the trade of AC Milan’s Brazilian midfielder, Kaka. In a state of disbelief I had to confer with the other half to make sure this was not a faux par and he assured me this was indeed a legitimate request. The deal was not met in the end, but Kaka, is estimated to earn £6.9 million a year, which translates to a staggering £138,000 a week. More than I am likely to make in 8 years of hard grafting. This deal demonstrates that its not just the players skills that are in demand, but how much sponsorship support their popularity can bring to a team. The passion for playing for the love of a team or the glory of winning seems, no doubt, to have been replaced for the highest price-tag, pulling the game, it’s players and its supporters into an ever-increasing monetary transaction.
With the abolition of the maximum wage in 1961, wages have continued on the rise ever since. As with many other sports, tennis and golf included, the sponsorship opportunities have also created an extra niche of income for players. It can be argued that players dedicate their lives to the sport for people to enjoy, but then again, nurses dedicate their hours to keep people alive. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a common path to take, one mention of nurses and indignation and off we go: young, overpaid idiots with no taste or moral guidelines. But it seems that this is more often then not true.
The big houses, the flashy cars (and women) all come at a cost, a big cost. While the gap between the working class fans struggling from week to week and the overpaid football player continues to stretch.
Fulham chairman Mohamed Al Fayed, seems to share my distaste for the “crazy” wages, agreeing it is bringing the game into disrepute. Al Fayed recently posted a message on his club website calling for major changes to football’s finances: “Take my crusade against sky-high players’ wages. Our expenses bill rose by 17 per cent last year. How can it be right for top players to be earning £15m to £20m a year? It’s crazy. These wages need to be capped.” Preaching to the converted Al Fayed!
Primarily an affective cap prevents wealthy (top four) teams from destructive behaviours, such and signing streams of ‘star’ players, to prevent rival teams from access to talented players, commanding a tight stranglehold on the league. With a salary cap each club has roughly the same economic power to attract players, which contributes to equity in the game and also ensures the crazy wages demanded by football players are a thing of the past.
But it seems it’s not just the money they are paid for playing, but the money they are paid when they‘re behaving badly. Subject in question, Joey Barton who, despite being a convicted criminal was still earning £143,000 in image rights from Newcastle while serving a six month stint in prison for an abhorrent attack on a teenager outside McDonalds. This comes after previous club Manchester City had been close to sacking him in 2004 after he ‘accidentally’ stubbed out a cigar in the eye of young team player Jamie Tandy at their Christmas party and in 2005 he was sent home from a summer tour of Thailand after a fight with a 15-year-old Everton fan. You can guarantee that if you or I were convicted of assault, we would lose our job, respect, and much chance of ever finding suitable employment for the rest of our life.
Now, I’m not calling for footballers to have a moral code, or be role models for children, but like every other profession, there has to be some level of accountability and respect for the economic status of the world. We are all happy for bankers to take a pay cut, why not footballers? At the end of the day, they are people playing a game. A game that was once played because it was fun and had a sense of team passion about it, not a business transaction where the only people forgotten are the fans.
Well, to say the other half and his father were taken aback would be an understatement, to the point where I was advised that maybe I had found my passion on what to write about in an article. So I sheepishly retreated after the better half gave me a look to relax and stop cursing as everybody in the pub was slightly perturbed! Not my finest moment, I will admit, but the massive expenditure had really worked its way up my skirt. So here it is, more calmly put in print, my feelings on the exuberant amount of cash paid to young men to play a game, that is kept popular by the love of the fans.
Arriving in the UK only 18 months ago, the first of the wild wages I was to hear about was the talk of £230 million for the trade of AC Milan’s Brazilian midfielder, Kaka. In a state of disbelief I had to confer with the other half to make sure this was not a faux par and he assured me this was indeed a legitimate request. The deal was not met in the end, but Kaka, is estimated to earn £6.9 million a year, which translates to a staggering £138,000 a week. More than I am likely to make in 8 years of hard grafting. This deal demonstrates that its not just the players skills that are in demand, but how much sponsorship support their popularity can bring to a team. The passion for playing for the love of a team or the glory of winning seems, no doubt, to have been replaced for the highest price-tag, pulling the game, it’s players and its supporters into an ever-increasing monetary transaction.
With the abolition of the maximum wage in 1961, wages have continued on the rise ever since. As with many other sports, tennis and golf included, the sponsorship opportunities have also created an extra niche of income for players. It can be argued that players dedicate their lives to the sport for people to enjoy, but then again, nurses dedicate their hours to keep people alive. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a common path to take, one mention of nurses and indignation and off we go: young, overpaid idiots with no taste or moral guidelines. But it seems that this is more often then not true.
The big houses, the flashy cars (and women) all come at a cost, a big cost. While the gap between the working class fans struggling from week to week and the overpaid football player continues to stretch.
Fulham chairman Mohamed Al Fayed, seems to share my distaste for the “crazy” wages, agreeing it is bringing the game into disrepute. Al Fayed recently posted a message on his club website calling for major changes to football’s finances: “Take my crusade against sky-high players’ wages. Our expenses bill rose by 17 per cent last year. How can it be right for top players to be earning £15m to £20m a year? It’s crazy. These wages need to be capped.” Preaching to the converted Al Fayed!
Primarily an affective cap prevents wealthy (top four) teams from destructive behaviours, such and signing streams of ‘star’ players, to prevent rival teams from access to talented players, commanding a tight stranglehold on the league. With a salary cap each club has roughly the same economic power to attract players, which contributes to equity in the game and also ensures the crazy wages demanded by football players are a thing of the past.
But it seems it’s not just the money they are paid for playing, but the money they are paid when they‘re behaving badly. Subject in question, Joey Barton who, despite being a convicted criminal was still earning £143,000 in image rights from Newcastle while serving a six month stint in prison for an abhorrent attack on a teenager outside McDonalds. This comes after previous club Manchester City had been close to sacking him in 2004 after he ‘accidentally’ stubbed out a cigar in the eye of young team player Jamie Tandy at their Christmas party and in 2005 he was sent home from a summer tour of Thailand after a fight with a 15-year-old Everton fan. You can guarantee that if you or I were convicted of assault, we would lose our job, respect, and much chance of ever finding suitable employment for the rest of our life.
Now, I’m not calling for footballers to have a moral code, or be role models for children, but like every other profession, there has to be some level of accountability and respect for the economic status of the world. We are all happy for bankers to take a pay cut, why not footballers? At the end of the day, they are people playing a game. A game that was once played because it was fun and had a sense of team passion about it, not a business transaction where the only people forgotten are the fans.
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Falling from grace
Do you still dream of your perfect job, while you slave away in the one that you feel is eroding your braincells day by day? Well, welcome to my life. I’m only 26, and still I feel like I’m missing my opportunity at ever being taken seriously in my ‘profession’ of journalism.
My love and passion for journalism started when I was just ten, and my Grade 5 teacher Mr Kelly allowed the class to enter a competition to create a newspaper. We were the youngest entrants, and it was tough (as tough as it can be for a ten-year-old!), but it was those early days of deadlines and pressure that made me realise, this was the career for me. My desires were nurtured through high school with my second mentor, Mr Horner. He made me believe that I had the intelligence and writing ability to be and do whatever I want.
I got a job before I finished university in a somewhat bizarre situation. The station manager heard my voice on the phone and instantly offered me a job, on the other side of the country. The job was just as odd as the offer, but nevertheless, got me involved in my dream career and out of my regular existence.
And not much could disappoint. A room full of cadets, no guidance, and strange techniques, it didn’t matter. I was in parliament, reading the news (live!) and forging my credibility. 18 months into my career and I realised I needed to finish my degree, so back to university I went (after a years hiatus) and got back on the radio and a fresh passion for the news.
But again, the degree was done, and my feet were itchy. It was time to get out amongst the world and find out more about all those things I report about and get to know them face-to-face. So travelling I went. I saw ancient temples, lived in some of the poorest communities I’ve ever seen. Went to live sex shows (purely for research!) and drank in some amazing bars and ate fried spiders in Cambodia! My knowledge of history was tested and so too was my desire for a warm shower and a comfortable bed, but it was all about increasing my worldly knowledge.
Now I’m back to square one and the pressure of finding, again, the dream job, is nibbling at my heels. I’m constantly reminded by my family that I am too talented to not get back into journalism, but trust me, it’s not from lack of trying!
So here it is, my blog. My aim to get back on the horse and show them what I’ve got. And I hope that anyone who appreciates my work or would like to tell me where I’m going wrong, I’m open for all your critique. So let the floodgates open and my latest chapter begin. Bring it on!
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