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Car guards: Giants of Commerdce!
Posted by: automatix on Aug 04, 2010
It’s a familiar scene: A car arrives in the car park at the local shopping centre, locates a parking space and comes to a halt. As the driver exits the car, an orange-vested individual approaches and says: “He-loh seh” (‘hello sir’, to those who don’t speak New South African).And this is where the whole thing turns from a normal, every-day occurrence into a business phenomenon that would make Donald Trump forget all about Anna Nicole’s assets.
These days every second South African has an MBA, and even though it hardly matters anymore, each of them still proceeds to profess that they possess the once-hallowed three letters at every opportunity. So the principle of supply and demand shouldn’t be alien to anyone reading this copy.
But allow me to recap, just in case you were asleep during that particular lecture. This is how it works: South Africa has more crime than Tata has dodgy products. So the demand for electrical fencing is super high. As a result every man, his dog, girlfriend and goldfish is flogging electrical fencing. In order to survive they all try to outdo each other by offering electrical fencing at lower and lower rates. The supply is high, so prices are low.
On the other hand, if there is a crime-spree similar to the one we’ve been experiencing for the last, oh let’s say twelve years, suppliers tend to run out of electrical fencing. But the demand from consumers stays high, so every man, his dog, girlfriend and goldfish can pump up their prices to ludicrous levels. Supply is outstripped by the demand, resulting in a price hike.
Pretty easy so far. But with the man in the orange vest, there’s one critical element that’s missing: The electrical fence.
Okay, granted, the man in the orange vest offers a service, rather than goods. Even so, services are also governed by the principle of supply and demand, so everything still stands. But the orange-vested individuals certainly don’t have MBAs, and as a result they’ve not only managed to completely ignore something as fundamental as supply and demand, but managed to build a business model that exists regardless.
Their approach to business wouldn’t fly in any bona fida boardroom – “Marketing budget, sir? No we don’t have one. Ditto for PR and advertising, client services and everything else. Overheads? We don’t work with those…” – but still, somehow, it works. It’s like watching David Blaine levitate while attractive ladies hold their hands in front of their mouths. Impossible, yet to some of us, exciting.
The Guarding Business, as it is flatteringly referred to by those that dabble in these dark arts, has taken South Africa by storm. On paper it looks like a heaven-sent: An employer gets a guarding contract with a specific shopping centre or centres. Then he gets scores of unemployed people to do the actual work. He supplies an orange vest and sometimes a peaked cap in exchange for a fairly hefty sum that the guards have to pay each morning before work starts. The guards then pocket whatever they earn during the day. Tax-free, of course. And it gives loads of otherwise income-less individuals the chance to earn a living.
It is the kind of thing that deserves harp music in the background, with large-breasted angels waving palm fronds over whoever first came up with the idea. Why large-breasted? Well, why not, really?
But there’s a crack in the utopian windscreen. In most instances, car guards are considered pests by patrons, who indulge them with a couple of coins, rather than entering into a contractual agreement for the procurement of services that would ensure their cars being where they left them after going to the shops. The latter might sound ridiculous, but think about it: If you give a car guard some coins, simply to get rid of him, are you not contributing to nothing more than an organised begging campaign?
The short answer is “yes”, you are. And this is where their brilliance really shines. They are the Anton Ruperts of our parking lots, the William Hearsts or Rockefellers of the shopping centre. Alchemists of industry, that’s what they are. They sell nothing, and get paid for it. They bug the crap out of everybody they say “he-lo seh” to, and yet they prevail.
Sure, it isn’t big money, but it is money nonetheless. And if you keep it ticking over, it all adds up. But what can we do? How can we bring down this evil empire?
As they say about taking drugs: “Just say no!”. Now this may sound callous, granted, but should anybody be allowed to get away with something like this? Unless you’re in the government, which is nothing more than a permission slip to be generally corrupt, I say no – we already pay exorbitant premiums for our car insurance and massive taxes. Let so-called car guards earn a proper living, just like everyone else. The fact that there is no work in the country may put paid to this notion, but this is Africa, boet – they don’t call it Lion Country for nothing.
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