Month: April 2022

Those of you not up to speed with modern work practices, may not be aware that there is a section of today’s labour force known as hybrid workers; people who divide their time between working at home and going to an actual office. The possibility of earning a living without having to step outside the front door will be an alien concept for those of a certain vintage. Particularly those who spent their working lives in shipyards, factories, coal mines and the like, usually on shift work and in tough conditions.

They didn’t have it easy but some of these hybrid workers feel they are having a rough time of it too. Brian O’Donovan of RTE, reported recently about new research from Microsoft Ireland which revealed that some workers are struggling with the hybrid lifestyle. They’re finding it difficult to cope and feel they are missing out by spending so much time in the house.

They’re finding it hard to disconnect from the job while a quarter of them feel demotivated or uninspired. The ‘Work Trends Index’ also revealed that almost a quarter of hybrid workers felt removed from the company culture and senior leadership. A total of 44% of workers agreed it was harder to build trust with colleagues in a remote or hybrid environment and more than a third said that their team culture had deteriorated. Thirty-six percent of them said they felt lonelier.

The survey also revealed that Irish workers place high value on positive work cultures, flexible working hours and benefits that promote positive health and well-being. Poor company culture and a negative impact on mental health were the top reasons workers left their roles in 2021 and 27% of workers said a lack of flexible working opportunities led them to seek new employment last year.

Maybe it’s just me, but that sounds like whinging. There must have been workers in the real world, choking on their breakfast cereals listening to that piece. I can think of some who wouldn’t mind spending a few days in the comfort of their own homes, sitting in their recliners, tapping away on their keyboard. Those who work outdoors and battle the elements every day to make a living wouldn’t mind a shot at it, but they’ll never get the opportunity because they have to actually leave the house to do stuff.

Take farmers for example. I know very little about farming and I never fully appreciated how difficult it is until I watched Jeremy Clarkson’s TV series, Clarkson’s Farm. While it was funny and entertaining, it also opened my eyes to what they have to deal with on a daily basis and having watched it, I have no idea why anyone would want to go into that line of business.

There’s no rest. They’re in a constant battle with the weather while trying to deal with things that want to eat their crops and infect their animals. They’re under pressure to get seeds planted then under pressure to get the crops harvested, while tending to sick animals and dealing with a million other things demanding their attention.   

They can’t switch off. Do they struggle to disconnect? You bet your life they do but they don’t spend their time moaning about it because there wouldn’t be any point, so they just get on with it. Do they feel demotivated or uninspired? Probably, but they suck it up.

My father was a small-time building contractor who worked long hours in all weathers. There were other guys in the town in the same game and they were all making a living but none of them became wealthy.

They had a lot on their minds too because they never knew where the next job was going to come from or even if there would be one. They were also weather dependant, which meant they were constantly juggling indoor work with outdoor jobs. It didn’t matter whether they were sick or sore, motivated or not, they still had to go to work, or the money simply didn’t come in.

Did they place high value on positive work cultures, flexible working hours and benefits that promote positive health and well-being? Did they feel lonely? Maybe they did, but I suspect they didn’t have time to worry about such things because they were too busy trying to make ends meet.

“The next 12 months is a pivotal time for many leaders as we try to determine how to transform our workplaces and best meet the needs of our employees after such a dramatic change in ways of working,” said Anne Sheehan, General Manager of Microsoft Ireland.

“It is clear from our findings that the shift to a hybrid workplace begins with culture – one that embraces a growth mindset and a willingness to re-imagine nearly every aspect of the way work gets done,” she added.

I’ll tell you what’s clear to me. People who have the opportunity to work from home are privileged and anyone moaning about it needs to take a look at themselves. They definitely ‘need to re-imagine how work gets done’ and a dose of reality might help their thought process.

For their next training activity, or bonding session, or whatever they’re called these days, bring them to a farm or a building site on a cold, miserable day and hand them a pick and a shovel. At the end of the day when their backs are aching, their hands are blistered and they’re covered in muck with little to show for it in the way of remuneration, they might think differently.

By the time they return to their cosy home office, they will be in a better position to reflect on their loneliness and their coping mechanism. They might even learn to appreciate how good they have it.

The president of the United States, Joe Biden, recently signed a law approved by Congress that makes lynching a hate crime. Lynchings were murders carried out by mobs, which in the US were linked to hatred of African Americans. Racist executions of black people were common in the south of the country during the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century.

It was murder without due process or rule of law and thousands of African Americans were killed. Justice was administered without trial, and offenders were hanged, often after suffering torture and mutilation. They say at least 4,742 people were reported to have been lynched by 1950 but it’s impossible to know the exact number. Very few of the perpetrators were ever convicted but this new law punishes those involved in lynchings with up to 30 years in prison.

My knowledge of lynching was mostly limited to what I had seen in the movies as a youngster but after hearing of Biden’s new law, I was curious to know where the term came from, and I discovered that it got its name from a guy called Charles Lynch, a Virginia planter and justice of the peace who was born in 1736 and whose father came from Galway.

According to Avoca Museum and Historical Society in Virginia, USA, Colonel Charles Lynch was an American whose father was an Irish immigrant named Charles Lynch the Elder. Charles the Elder lived in Galway and when he was sixteen, he rebelled against a harsh schoolmaster and a stern grandmother and ran away from home.

He headed for the docks and stowed away on a ship that he thought was going to Europe but shortly after boarding, he overheard a conversation among the sailors and discovered they were actually headed for America. After realising his mistake, he came out of hiding and asked the crew to return him to Ireland. They refused of course.

He quickly decided he couldn’t stay on the ship, so he jumped overboard with the intention of swimming back to Ireland. The ship’s crew plucked him from the water and placed him in chains and he spent the remainder of the journey in the ship’s hold.

When he arrived in Virginia, he entered into an indentured servitude contract with a successful Quaker named Christopher Clark. In the eighteenth century British-controlled American colonies, indentured servitude was an arrangement in which a person unable to pay for his passage across the Atlantic would agree to work a period of time – usually five to seven years – to pay back the cost of the fare. A kind of temporary slavery.

It worked out fine for him though because he was treated very well by his new master. Clark must have taken a shine to the young lad because he treated Lynch as a son. He set him up with an apprenticeship to a lawyer, and even released Lynch from his indenture early. By the time he left his former master’s farm, he had a significant number of livestock, some equipment, and money.

He did well for himself, became wealthy and bought land in several counties. By then he had married and had a family of his own and after his sudden and untimely death, one of his sons, Charles Jr., inherited a handsome share.

Charles Lynch Jr. took an active interest in local and colonial politics and as a prominent local figure and planter, he made a significant impact on local politics. He was appointed as a Justice of the Peace in 1770. Lynch established himself as significant lawmaker and community leader and he proved himself to be a man with whom one should not trifle.

Legend has it that on one occasion during his tenure as a frontier Justice of the Peace, he was called upon to referee a disagreement over a contest in which two men had forced captive black bears to fight one another. They weren’t happy with Lynch’s ruling and both turned their anger on the Judge. Lynch reacted by grabbing the men and he forced their faces into the earth until they accepted his decision.

As a colonel in the militia, he mobilised his troops during the war with the British. While defending Virginia against invasion by the British troops, his outfit captured seventy-five prisoners. An account written in 1787 by a Bedford County jailer claimed that Colonel Lynch’s deposit overcrowded his gaol and forced him into the hardship that comes with providing food and care for such a large group of prisoners. The poor jailer couldn’t cope and wanted the prisoners sent somewhere else.

Governor Thomas Jefferson told Lynch that if he seized anyone he thought was guilty, he should try them immediately and if found guilty they should be sent to a larger prison in Richmond for further trial. This didn’t sit well with Lynch though and he decided to defy the Governors directive instead. He had his reasons.

Firstly, the distance to Richmond was two-hundred miles, a long and time-consuming trek. Not only would the journey be a tedious one, but it would also incur a significant expense, both in terms of finances and time. Also, they could encounter many dangers on the way from marauding bands, ready to overwhelm the Judge’s escort. So, instead of holding trials in two venues, Lynch decided to try the accused locally instead.

Lynch acquitted some of them and issued prison sentences ranging from one to five years. Still others were subjected to the most well-known and dreaded aspect of what came to be known as “Lynch’s Law” and this gave rise to the term lynching.

Charles Lynch died in 1796, land rich but cash poor. He certainly left his mark though because over two hundred years later we’re still talking about him.

If you’ve ever seen the TV show, Dad’s Army, you will know that Captain Mainwaring regularly referred to Private Pike as “You stupid boy!” He had good reason as well because while poor Pike was the youngest member of the Home Guard, he certainly wasn’t the brightest. His ideas and suggestions usually fell short of the mark.

Stupid is not a term I often use to describe people. I usually try to give them the benefit of the doubt when they do something silly. Maybe they had a sudden loss of concentration, or a seniors’ moment but there are times though when that description is entirely appropriate.

I’m thinking specifically of the airline passengers who can’t get their act together when going through security or who aren’t properly prepared when presenting themselves at the boarding gate. It’s even more important now to be organised with airports warning of delays due to a shortage of security staff but some people just can’t manage it.

I travelled from London Gatwick to Larnaca in Cyprus last month. It wasn’t the height of the tourist season, but Gatwick was still busy. People are probably just chomping at the bit to get away after the last two years of Covid but in any event, there was a lot of activity. Dealing with large numbers of passengers like that, requires organisation. Planes have take-off slots and if they miss them, they fall back in the queue for the next available time and that creates inconvenience for all involved. Which is exactly what happened to me.

As soon as the last passengers were seated on my flight, the captain announced over the intercom that due to the delay in boarding, we were going to have a little wait. It was an hour later when we got clearance for take-off but by then, whatever arrangements passengers had made for being met in Larnaca were scuppered.

That’s frustrating, and it adds additional stress to a journey that many airline passengers find difficult to deal with at the best of times. What makes it worse is that in some cases, delays like this could be avoided if the flying ‘Private Pikes’ of this world could learn to follow some simple instructions.

I know it’s been a while since many have flown anywhere but the rules are pretty much the same as they were before the pandemic. With the exception of having to wear a face mask in the airport and on the plane, nothing much has changed. You still need to present your boarding pass and your passport at the gate.

You will hear this regularly in announcements. It will be repeated as you approach the gate and sometimes a member of the ground crew will even walk up and down the queue reminding passengers to have their boarding passes ready and their passports open at the page showing their photograph. If they gave me a yellow vest, I could do it for them myself by now without any training.

Several people still approached the departure gate without a face mask and seemed surprised when they were asked to wear one which then required a dash to the shop to buy one. Others were asked for their passports and had to go digging in pockets and bags to retrieve them. It was the same thing with boarding passes. People were scrolling through their phones trying to locate them instead of having them ready like they were asked to do.

One lady waited until she got to the gate, put her handbag on the counter and then went rooting for her documents and it’s because of her and the others like her, that I had an extended rest on the runway. It isn’t even peak season yet, so I pity the airline workers and travellers this summer when the ‘Private Pikes’ come out in force.

The security staff have it tough. They tell us to take out our laptops and Kindles and place them in separate trays, remove any liquids from the hand luggage and put them in a clear plastic bag. There are signs everywhere to remind us. Sometimes there are videos to go with the signs, telling us what we need to do and as we get closer to the actual security staff, we will hear lots of officials shouting the same instructions over and over, but some travellers still don’t get it.

In Gatwick, two girls had a wheelie case up on the rollers of the conveyer system and they were taking out various bits and pieces and placing them in the plastic bags. They were in no rush, but they had the whole line blocked up while they faffed around. They weren’t alone either. Lots of other people were pulled aside for not removing their laptops and other electronic gadgets.

Last year I sat in the departure lounge waiting to board a flight and the ground crew were walking among the passengers checking that everyone had a Cyprus Flight Pass. It’s much the same as a passenger locator form. You apply online 72 hours prior to departure, and you receive the Pass in an email. The guy sitting behind me was asked if he had his, but he didn’t even know what she was talking about.

These people are a liability. If they can’t manage a simple task like presenting a boarding card and opening a passport, how are they ever going to manage to put a life preserver on in an emergency. And don’t tell me they will leave their personal belongings behind them on the plane as it bobbles about on the water because they won’t. They’ll drag their little wheelies onto the inflatable slide and puncture the damn thing on the way down, dumping us all in the sea.

When I was fourteen, I thought everybody above the age of thirty was over the hill. Past it. Anyone in their fifties was really old and people over the age of sixty-five, well they were just in the departure lounge, waiting patiently to be fitted with their wings. I’m sure young people today view me the same way.

My grandchildren are probably looking at me in amazement, marvelling at how I’m still able to move around the house unaided, without falling over the furniture. In fact, I know they are.

I was dropping my three-year-old grandson, Toby, to pre-school the other day and he asked me what number I was. He was sitting in the back seat and firing all sorts of questions at me because he likes to talk. He wanted to know my age so, I told him I was sixty-three. He said, “Let me think. OK, you’re right.” It was reassuring to know I could still calculate my age correctly.

That got me thinking about when old age actually kicks in because a few days later, I hit sixty-four and I was curious to know if that was it. Was I officially in that category now or had I some time left? Paul McCartney seemed to think it was sixty-four. He had a very successful hit with the song of the same name and wrote about getting older and losing his hair. Well, I ticked those two boxes anyway.

As youngsters, we think we’re invincible. Old age is something that’s not going to happen to us. Let the old people deal with that, it’s got nothing to do with us. Doesn’t quite work out like that though.

When I was training for a career with An Garda Siochana as a twenty-one-year-old in 1979, there were presentations and lectures on all kinds of things. One of the topics had to do with pensions; what we would be entitled to when we retired, when we would access it, how many years we had to work to qualify for it, and the benefits etc. etc. etc.

I have a low pain threshold and listening to people talking about finance hurts my head. The business section of the news in the morning on the radio interferes with the fillings in my teeth and makes me stick my fingers in my ears. I’ve always been like that, so I probably had a snooze during that pension lecture. Retirement was the furthest thing from my mind anyway. Thirty years was a long way off and I had a more immediate concern.  

Surviving the training in Templemore was the only thing occupying my mind right then. There was plenty of time to figure out how I was going to avoid starvation and homelessness in my retirement. Except there wasn’t that much time at all as it turned out because in the blink of an eye, I was fifty-seven and handing back my identification card. Just like that, I was a civilian again.

I was doing an interview recently with Phil Goodman on Cork City Community Radio about life in general and she asked if I had any regrets. I don’t as a rule spend too much time looking in the rear-view mirror. I prefer instead to look forward, trying to plan how I can get the maximum amount of pleasure from the next stage in life, but I did share one regret with her.

I wasn’t too long working in Dublin when I was having a chat with my father one day, telling him about something humorous that had happened at work. I have no idea what it was, but I can clearly remember him laughing and advising me to keep a diary to record these stories. Unfortunately, I gave that suggestion the same consideration I gave to the lecture on pensions. That was a big mistake. I could really do with that diary now because I have the memory of a gnat.

Fortunately, my buddy John O’Connor, has great recall. We worked together for about twenty-five years, and I rely heavily on his recollection but I’m not sure how much longer I can depend on him. He’s only a few years behind me and when he starts getting doddery, I’m going to be in serious trouble. Fortunately, that might be a bit away yet because ‘old age’ seems to be adjustable.

A seventy-year-old today bears no resemblance to the image I had in my youth. Now that I’m only six years away from three score and ten, 70 has become the new 50 apparently and I’m quite happy to go along with that. I’m also happy to go along with my new sleep pattern. When you get older, late nights are less attractive so I’m usually in bed early. I wake at 6am every morning too which is a good thing if you believe this little tale.

“Sixty is the worst age to be,” said the 60-year-old man. “You always feel like you have to go to the toilet and most of the time you stand there, and nothing happens.”

“Ah, that’s nothing,” said the 70-year-old. “When you’re seventy, you don’t have a bowel movement anymore. You take laxatives, eat bran, sit on the toilet all day and nothing happens!”

“Actually,” said the 80-year-old, “Eighty is the worst age of all”

“Do you have trouble going to the toilet, too?” asked the 60-year old.

“No, I go every morning at 6:00 like a racehorse; no problem at all”

“So, do you have a problem with your bowel movement?”

“No, I have one every morning at 6:30.”

Exasperated, the 60-year-old said, “You go to the toilet every morning at 6:00 and again every morning at 6:30. So what’s so bad about being 80?”

“I don’t wake up until 7:00”