HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1997-06-04, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 4,1997 PAGE 5.
Boring job
on the rise
So what's the most boring job you ever
had? Mine was 'inventory clerk' for a steel
manufacturing company in Montreal. I sat in
a paper-strewn desk and processed - i.e.
transformed one huge mound of paper into
many small mounds of paper - what we
called 'flimsies' - records of all the steel that
had been sold by whom and on which day
and for how much. I did that eight hours a
day, five days a week for more months than I
care to remember.
But whenever inventory clerking started to
get to me I found consolation in the
knowledge that things could be worse. I
could have a really, REALLY boring job
like, oh, say...elevator attendant.
Now there was the ultimate in boring jobs.
Can you imagine? Standing in a little cage
eight hours a day, jerking a lever while
hordes of strangers trooped on and off at
every floor? Up and down, up and down, -
knowing exactly what you were going to see
every time those cursed doors opened,
whether it was Fourth Floor Plumbing and
Electrical or Basement Men's Shoes and
Shoppers' Layaway.
The use
of cheques
It was not too many years ago that cheques
were a favourite way of paying bills. Even if
you bought something in the United States, it
was expected that you would send a cheque
with your order.
However, with the advent of debit and
credit cards, such a means of payment is just
about finished. Even if you pay for
something that you order from the United
States, you find that it takes longer than a
credit card since the American supplier has
to wait to see if the cheque is valid before he
will ship the goods that you have ordered.
However, every once in a while, cheques
do play a role. Some years ago when I was
still doing business with Iraqi firms, one of
their representatives made a trip to Canada to
discuss matters with the firms from which he
was buying. I met him at the airport and
steered him in the right direction. Just before
the end of his trip, he confessed to me that he
had run out of money and would I cash his
cheque.
I thought about it for a couple of seconds
and then said that I would. I provided him
with the necessary cash and he gave me a
cheque drawn on his bank in Switzerland.
I was not surprised at this turn since Arab
businessmen routinely keep money in a
Swiss bank account, part of the reason being
that they may some day find themselves on
the wrong end of a coup d'etat in their home
country. When I got to Switzerland a few
months later, I cashed the cheque at a bank
No, being an elevator jockey had to be the
most boring job in the world.
Or so I thought. Right up until I met
Maxine Quinn last week. I didn't actually
'meet' Maxine - I phoned her. In her elevator
in the Conrad Building in downtown
Cincinnati, OH. Maxine's the one and only
elevator operator in the Conrad Building. §£ie
knows everybody who works there and
which floor they work on and usually a good
chunk of their personal life as well. People
just seem to open up to Maxine when they
step into her elevator. But then Maxine's not
your usual elevator operator.
And this is not your usual elevator either.
For one thing, there's a portrait of Elvis on
the wall. And a televisioh set playing in the
comer. And three chairs. There's also a floor
lamp, an electric fan, scads of family photos
- and Maxine, the comfortable-looking
grandmotherly boss of all she surveys in her
six-foot-by-six-foot domain.
Maxine, as likely as not, will be talking on
the phone when the elevator doors open. She
and her elevator-cum-one-room flat have
become somewhat famous. A national
tabloid has done a feature story on her. Good
Morning America sent a camera crew to film
Maxine at work. She's also been on national
radio - both in the U.S. and in Canada.
The kicker is: Maxine's been operating
where I knew one of the tellers.
One of the reasons I took the cheque was
that over the years I had found the Iraqis to
be scrupulously honest in any business
dealings I had with them. We had no reason
to distrust each other and so the transaction
took place.
Incidentally it was only about a year later
that my Iraqi friend decided that it was
propitious to leave Iraq because of the
"unsatisfactory" climate. The last I heard he
was safely settled in Canada running his own
business.
If cheques are dying out as a means of
international payment, the same cannot be
said for their commercial counterpart, the
letter of credit. This is, in essence, a form of
cheque used to pay for exported/imporled
goods but it is much more complicated than a
simple cheque since it has all the conditions
under which the goods can be shipped.
To gel back to Iraq, when I was looking
after the shipping of some goods there, one
of the stipulations in the letter of credit was
that the merchandise could under no
circumstances be shipped via Israel or in an
Israeli vessel. Can you guess what the two
nations think of each other?
You may be surprised to know that in one
country cheques are coming into style.
Vietnam, which is trying to modernize its
banking system, which is based on that of the
former Soviet Union, has just got around to
permitting cheques to be used as a means of
payment. Up until now cash has been the
chief way of paying a bill but, even while it
was permitting cheques, the government
could not get over its communist ways of
keeping tight control on everything. For this
elevators like this for the past 41 years.
Forty-one years! And she told me on the
telephone that she's enjoyed every moment of
it!
Well ... almost. There was that lime the
elevator got stuck for three hours with
Maxine, five large men and no air
conditioning on a sweltering hot August
afternoon. "That wasn't much fun," says
Maxine.
And there was that other time when she
had to throw two guys off her elevator.
Ordered them to get out in the lobby. Told
them to use the stairs if they wanted to go
into the Conrad Building.
"They were using the 'F-word'," recalls
Maxine. "I won't tolerate that kind of
language on my elevator."
Other than that, Maxine says it's been a
ball. I said, "Come on, Maxine - don't you
get a little bored going up and down like a
yo-yo for 41 years?"
Maxine didn't appear to understand the
question at first. "Bored?" she said. "I've got
my television and my telephone in here. I’ve
got friends on every floor of the building. I
meet new people every day and I get phone
calls from all over the world - even Canada!"
"How could I get bored?"
I had to admit she had me there.
reason it has laid down a-strict list of rules
for any cheque writing.
First of all, the country's central bank has a
monopoly on the printing of blank cheques.
The cheque must be filled out in Vietnamese
but this rule brought about a strong protest on
the part of many businessmen since English,
as in many other countries, is frequently used
as a language of business. The government
finally relented; now English may appear on
the cheques but it must be placed below the
Vietnamese words and in smaller letters. The
precise amount must be written out but,
unless the first letter is capitalized, the
cheque is invalid.
Big cheques are needed since a
considerable amount of other information is
necessary. Included are the payee's identity
card number and its date of issue, the payee's
bank account number, the issuing company's
address and account number and the
signature of both the company's authorized
signatory and its chief accountant who adds
the company's official seal. When the payee
finally gels the cheque, it must be cashed
within 15 days.
All this in spile of the fact that the
Vietnamese government studied the use of
cheques all over the world and even went to
Sweden to get a closer look at that country’s
system. I would not be surprised if there
were signs everywhere stating "Check your
cheque" just to make sure that it will not later
be rejected on a technicality.
A Final Thought
Swallow your pride occasionally. It's not
fattening.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
The right package
I'd have to say that the real damage began
at 40.
The earth's gravitational pull could no
longer be denied, nor defeated, for my body
had begun losing its war against time. As
exercise seemed unable to keep muscle tone
from sagging, as dieting worked to no avail,
I quite literally watched this sawed-off frame
of mine shift ever closer to the ground.
But, I didn't give in, at least not
immediately. For two years I continued the
struggle, rising early to exercise each and
every day, denying my fondness for beer and
limiting my desserts. However, it
frustratingly became apparent that time was
the stronger warrior, when despite my
parrying the pounds attacked, settling
stubbornly on tummy, hips and derriere.
Yes, for two years I continued the
struggle. And then I said to hell with it. I
decided the time had come to accept the
inevitable — my girlish figure was finished
— and get on with aging gracefully and as
happily and healthily as possible. I now try
to exercise at least three times a week, limit
my fat intake and treat myself on occasion.
I'd say I feel about as well as I did before.
That is until Hollywood intrudes and it
hurts to look in the mirror. We all know that
the female ideal as presented in photos, film
and TV is unrealistic as well as unfair. The
majority of women have neither the time,
energy, inclination nor funds to turn
themselves into aesthetically enhanced
Barbie dolls.
And the fact that many men buy into this
fallacy is not just disturbing, but insulting as
well, particularly for its double standard.
While beauty may be with a beast, you see,
it is beyond comprehension that handsome
could ever be with a hag.
The idea that anyone, though more often a
woman, with the misfortune of being less
than pleasing to the eye is less worthy of
respect than an empty-headed, heavy
breasted dye-job blonde is sad, yet all too
often real. Canadian singer Rita McNeil is
the subject of much insensitive humour,
when in actuality her rise from obscurity is a
story of strength and perseverance, that
should earn her our admiration. Far more fun
to point out her flaws, ignore her God-given
talent and worship instead, silicone phonies.
There's a scene in the movie Beautiful
Girls that laughs at this delusion. Rosie
O'Donnell is lecturing some men (boys?) on
the realities of the female form. To simplify,
God is fair, he made tops and bottoms to
match. Anything else isn't real and guys
today had better get a grip, she tells them.
This infatuation with false perfection is
depicted in another movie, The Truth About
Cats and Dogs. A petite, brilliant radio vet,
played by Janeane Garafola becomes
enamoured with a caller, who after talking to
her on a few occasions seems to be equally
enthralled. However, despite the fact that he
obviously admires her mind, she believes he
couldn't possibly be impressed with the
package, so she convinces a lovely, leggy
friend to pretend to be her. Thankfully, a
happy ending, reassures us that even
Hollywood recognizes that character and
brains makes packaging more attractive —
at least to those with character and brains.