On outsourcing

I think that “The World is Flat” is a good book and we should all at least be aware of the global forces at play that is changing the competitive landscape, be it at a country vs. country, corporations vs. one another, or human beings competing for the best job and highest standard of living.

Zhao Bin sent me this hilarious write up from Esquire magazine today. I was laughing so hard that I think I scared a fellow intern at work when she approached me to ask a question. It is a MUST READ. Haha.

The full article is available here.


Excerpts from the article:

The next day I email Brickwork, one of the companies Friedman mentions in his book. Brickwork — based in Bangalore, India — offers "remote executive assistants," mostly to financial firms and health-care companies that want data processed. I explain that I'd like to hire someone to help with Esquire-related tasks — doing research, formatting memos, like that. The company's CEO, Vivek Kulkarni, responds: "It would be a great pleasure to be talking to a person of your stature." Already I'm liking this. I've never had stature before. In America, I barely command respect from a Bennigan's maître d', so it's nice to know that in India I have stature.

A couple of days later, I get an email from my new "remote executive assistant."

Dear Jacobs,
My name is Honey K. Balani. I would be assisting you in your editorial and personal job. . . . I would try to adapt myself as per your requirements that would lead to desired satisfaction.

Desired satisfaction. This is great. Back when I worked at an office, I had assistants, but there was never any talk of desired satisfaction. In fact, if anyone ever used the phrase "desired satisfaction," we'd all end up in a solemn meeting with HR. And I won't even comment on the name Honey except to say that, real or not, it sure carries Anaïs Nin undertones.

Oh, did I mention that Vivek sent me a JPEG of Honey? She's wearing a white sleeveless shirt and has full lips, long hair, skin the color of her first name. She looks a bit like an Indian Eva Longoria. I can't stop staring at her left eyebrow, which is ever so slightly cocked. Is she flirting with me?

Honey has completed her first project for me: research on the person Esquire has chosen as the Sexiest Woman Alive. (See page 232.) I've been assigned to write a profile of this woman, and I really don't want to have to slog through all the heavy-breathing fan Web sites about her. When I open Honey's file, I have this reaction: America is fucked. There are charts. There are section headers. There is a well-organized breakdown of her pets, measurements, and favorite foods (e.g., swordfish). If all Bangalorians are like Honey, I pity Americans about to graduate college. They're up against a hungry, polite, Excel-proficient Indian army. Put it this way: Honey ends her emails with "Right time for right action, starts now!" Your average American assistant believes the "right time for right action" starts after a Starbucks venti latte and a discussion of last night's Amazing Race 8.

As on every morning at 8:30, I get a call from Honey. "Good morning, Jacobs." Her accent is noticeable but not too thick, Americanized by years of voice training. She's the single most upbeat person I've ever encountered. Whatever soul-deadening chore I give her, she says, "That would indeed be interesting" or "Thank you for bestowing this important task." I have a feeling that if I asked her to count the number of semicolons in the Senate energy bill, she would be grateful for such a fascinating project.

Every call ends the same way: I thank her, and she replies, "You are always welcome, Jacobs." I'm starting to like her a lot.


The best rejection notice in journalism history

Honey is my protector. Consider this: For some reason, the Colorado Tourism Board emails me all the time. (Most recently, they informed me about a festival in Colorado Springs featuring the world's most famous harlequin.) I request that Honey gently ask them to stop with the press releases. Here's what she sent:

Dear All,
Jacobs often receives mails from Colorado news, too often. They are definitely interesting topics. However, these topics are not suitable for "Esquire."

Further, we do understand that you have taken a lot of initiatives working on these articles and sending it to us. We understand. Unfortunately, these articles and mails are too time consuming to be read.

Currently, these mails are not serving right purpose for both of us. Thus, we request to stop sending these mails.

We do not mean to demean your research work by this.

We hope you understand too.

Thanking you,

Honey K B

That is the best rejection notice in journalism history. It's exceedingly polite, but there's a little undercurrent of indignation. Honey seems almost outraged that Colorado would waste the valuable time of Jacobs.

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Hope you guys enjoyed the above excerpt.

We live in a hyper competitive world. We may not have witnessed the perils of globalisation firsthand in our daily lives, but its impact will be felt throughout our little island sooner or later. The accounting profession is considered by many a near "iron rice bowl". When SIA outsourced its accounting unit to India, many accountants suddenly find themselves jobless and have no transferable skill as many of them began their career with the firm right from the start.

So unless you are the local barber or the coffeeshop owner, your business / career will be impacted by globalisation sooner or later. Will we soon belong to a bunch of people with education, with obsolete skills and wishful thinking of high pay?

The only certainty in life is change. Change, or be displaced.