Saturday, July 24, 2010

PPE Part 1: Net Worth

PPE stands for Personal Protection Equipment (and Philosophy, Politics and Economics, but not on this blog). PPE, as the name suggests, is meant to protect you from injury and long-term damage to your senses as a result of exposure to operational health and safety risks. As a female engineer, it also protects you from flattery and compliments, and can cause long-term damage to your sense of femininity and style if you’re not vigilant. This is part 1 in a series (unless I get bored after Part 1) of posts dedicated to the joys of wearing PPE.


I have a confession: Although I mention hard hats in the title of this blog, I must admit I’ve hardly ever worn one in my career. As a student I wore a hard hat once during a site visit to a petro-chemical plant. The only other time I needed one was for a few months when a section of the washing powder factory I worked in was under construction. Hard hats are not too bad. I actually think they’re kind of hot in a tom-boy sort of way. (And its fun to knock yourself on the head with your fist when you’re wearing one because you don’t feel anything and you hear that hollow sound from inside the hat. If you’ve ever worn one, you must’ve done that at least once. Or is it just me?...) The only drawback is hard hat-hair. If you have big hair, guaranteed it’ll be flattened after an hour or so of wearing one.




Hairnets on the other hand… Hairnets just look ridiculous. And “hairnets and heels” just doesn’t sound as catchy. They don’t hurt, or itch or make you sweat but I just hate them. I had the misfortune of spending the greater part of last year wearing a hairnet. I worked in a margarine factory and understandably human hair is the last thing consumers would like to find buried in their tubs of low fat spread. Well, actually the last thing is probably a cockroach… But even if you’re bald, upon entry to the plant you pull on a hairnet.

Fine. But I still hate them. I hope I never wear another hairnet in my lifetime.

Now would be a good time to reveal my ethnicity as it may help to contextualise my specific disdain for hairnets. I am a coloured** woman from
Cape Town. Cape Town is home to, and famous for, it’s many fisheries and fish shops. Many coloured women work in fish shops and they all wear hairnets. I think the first time I ever saw a hairnet was on the head of a woman who worked in a fish shop. I associate hairnets with working in fish shops. For years I strived to get good grades so that I could go to university, get a degree and a good job so that I would not be a woman in a fish shop. Or a cashier at Shoprite. Or a factory worker, bad as that may sound. Yes, I guess that makes me a snob. And yes, I see the irony that I ended up in a factory anyway. Wearing a hairnet.


Consolatory PPE perks: Hairnets are excellent for masking a bad hair day. On a good hair day they do not cause the same degree of damage as hard hats.

Alternative uses: I know of two: (1) Socks. I worked at a personal care products factory (shampoo, lotion, deodorants) where all staff were meant to wear hairnets. Instead we were issued with baseball caps because management realised they were spending way more than anticipated on replenishing hairnets. Why? The operators were wearing them as socks. Secret socks. The secret being that they were stealing PPE to save… what? Money on washing powder? (2) Food cover. My mom uses hairnets to cover dishes of food when there are flies around. Unused hairnets, by the way. My aunt is a QA (Quality Assurance) manager at a food products manufacturing factory, and she provides them to the women in my family for this purpose. I’m not sure if management knows.

**For the non-South African readers: Please note that in South Africa “coloured” is a legitimate label for people of mixed racial origin and most people do not view it as any more as offensive than the terms “black” and “white”. The coloured population is considered to be previously disadvantaged as a result of the Apartheid system. Levels of affluence have been on the rise since the end of Apartheid but many communities are still impoverished and suffering the social effects of forced removals of the previous era.


Saturday, July 17, 2010

Good morning, Charlie


Have you ever watched Charlie's Angels? Personally I've never seen the series but I loved the movies. Three super strong, super sexy women kicking villain ass in killer stilettos and cute outfits, all without smudging their eyeliner. Going undercover and somehow pulling mad skills out of the hat to fit whichever seductive persona they assume. Stealthily sneaking into highly secure vaults and pulling off Chinese Olympian gymnast moves to manoeuvre through spider webs of alarm beams. That scene in the first Charlie's Angels movie when they've designed gloves and contact lenses with duplicate finger and retina prints so Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz's characters can break into the vault? I wanted to be them!!


Unfortunately for me I think working for a bank is the closest I'll ever get to being like an Angel.


Let me explain.


Firstly, being an engineer from a manufacturing background, I was hired as a Business Efficiency Manager to streamline processes and make bank operations more productive. I know it's a stretch of the imagination, but isn't that kind of like that scene where Lucy Liu's character goes undercover into that software engineering company as an efficiency expert? You know the one where she's wearing that black leather pencil skirt outfit and she keeps hitting people with her pointer? Yeah, like I said, it's a stretch but the thought cheers me up when I feel like my job is boring.


Secondly, I often spend half my day in a room alone talking to a speaker phone. (If I need to explain the connection, you have clearly not watched Charlie's Angels and should stop reading this and go out and rent it immediately.) Since my role is national and I can only be in one cash centre at a time, I spend a lot of time in tele-conferences with various people across the country. Not quite the same as discussing instructions for my next mission, but humour me.


Thirdly, I don't just work for a bank. I work for the bulk cash handling division of a bank. So my world is not your cheerful local branch one floor down from the Woolies in the mall. My world is the bulk cash centre. The bank's equivalent of a factory. Think rows and rows of high-speed machines counting bills faster than the eye can keep track of. This is where the cash that you spent at the Woolies one floor up from the bank's branch in the mall ends up. From the retail cashier's till point, to the store's back cash office, to the bank's bulk cash centre. Needless to say there are large amounts of moola in these buildings. And where there is lots of cash, there tends to be lots of potential for robberies. And where there is lots of potential for robberies, there tends to be lots of security. Basically I work in a big old vault. The front door is a hefty bullet-proof, drill-proof, fire-proof, chivalry-proof affair which is programmed to remain open for mere seconds at a time. (No gentleman will be holding that open for me. Ever. ) So my daily dose of stealth is trying to slip through it with my lunch box and my laptop bag before it smacks me on the behind. Glamorous. There are a few more security hurdles to jump before I can get my hands on my morning cup of tea (everything short of a cavity search). But if I tell you more I'll have to kill you. See? That's a little bit undercover agent-ish, isn't it? No?


Well, at least this little fantasy makes my work day a bit more fun. A private joke between me and... well, me. Now if only I could convince my boss to let me call him Charlie...

Blame it on FIFA

I'm not sure how many people are reading my blog at this point. But for those three or four of you who got used to weekly instalments, I'm sorry for the silence over the last three weeks. Being a proud SAffer (South African) I was fully infected with FIFA World Cup fever. It was freaking awesome having the spotlight on my country for something good for a change!! In between I also took a few days off to sneak out of the city to Knysna forest and hide out in front of a fireplace with a good book. I took time away from the good book to watch the good football (well I don't know if it was good, but some of the commentators said so).

But I am back! So please keep reading.