in the park
I was trying to shoot the spring bouncers but kept being interrupted by (a) capricious breezes and (b) a park employee earning his crust by doing his professional thing.
involved driving a wee mechanised set of wheels with a big hydraulically powered bucket doo-dah on the front and a “Here I come!” flashing light on the top.
He was tidying up after the latest instalment of professional vandalism—I’m convinced that the park management is determined to turn what was once delightful (dare I say it?) European woodland into open savannah.
Perhaps they won’t stop there, perhaps we’ll be getting first of all prairie (followed eventually by desert) …
his industry got me to musing about economics and what I might have told my kid if ever I’d multiplied. Actually … about the whole concept of employment.
So trying to photograph my daffies, fluttering and dancing in the breeze, I timed it to capture the motorman as he scampered by with heavy log in his jaws.
HE IS PAID
(I imagine) by the hour. Probably a flat rate with occasional overtime. I have no idea of his qualifications or talents but he certainly had enthusiasm and seemed to my untutored eye to be a doing a dam’ fine job.
IT OCCURRED TO ME
that if a labourer is worthy of his hire he must sell his employer more than just time. The employer here obviously thinks he’s getting his money’s worth so something must be increasing the value of the mere time being purchased—in this case the driver’s abilities with machinery and his own investments in his training and qualifications.
So qualifications increase potential value of a worker. Not only training, the guy must have a degree of talent and ‘attitude’. No good the employee being highly qualified if he doesn’t give a damn and simply turns up to reach a minimum standard output.
BY THE TIME
I ran out of daffodils (actually I ran out of battery—I’d forgotten to charge it) I’d pretty well worked out a whole lesson on why the young should go to school determined to work hard but I’d neglected to make notes in the field—ever tried to recall that powerful dream of the night before last?
Anyway, I went to the Cheeky Lama and had another of their lovely coffees. Unlike almost anywhere in Invercargill, these folks listen when you try to describe what you want … and deliver. This is what they looked like yesterday—
—and the snap up top of me enjoying a coffee is from their blackboard. There’s also a blazing log fire in winter … and no, I don’t get paid for appreciating good service (they don’t even know I post on the web).