All posts by Deirdre Straughan

Globalization is Spelled with Three Rs

The boom years of Silicon Valley will not be returning. Thriving new companies will be founded there, but they won’t create many jobs, because so many white-collar jobs are now being outsourced to India. In future, these jobs may also go to China, Russia, or other countries that have technically-educated workers willing (so far) to work for lower wages than their US-based peers.

To take a typical case: Technical support has long been a problem for high-tech companies. It’s something that customers complain about when it’s bad, but don’t appreciate when it’s good – at least, they rarely appreciate it enough to want to pay for it. Profit margins on software and hardware tend to be slim, and a single support call can eat up the entire margin on a sale. At Silicon Valley salaries, it’s hard to provide support cheaply. But you can’t pay people there less, because they can’t afford to live on less in that very expensive part of the world.

Long ago, discussing with colleagues the costs and difficulties of providing technical support from Silicon Valley, I suggested having email support done from India, which has a huge pool of people who write better English than the average American. (At the time I assumed that phone support could not be outsourced to India, because Americans often have trouble understanding Indian accents.)

A few years after my (then radical) suggestion, this was exactly what began to happen at many companies, for both email and telephone support. Indian third-party support companies solved the accent problem by training their people to speak with American accents and even chat about American topics (discussing baseball from Bangalore? weird). Basic nuts-and-bolts programming has also been shipped off to India – cheaper than the previous solution of importing Indian programmers (on H1 visas) to the US.

By sending jobs offshore, American companies are simply doing what businesses are supposed to do: reduce costs and increase profits. This keeps companies healthy and stockholders happy, and reduces the cost of goods and services purchased by Americans in America. Attempts to “protect” American jobs are likely to – and should – ultimately fail. American businesses are part of a global economy, and will stand or fall by their ability to compete globally. Forcing them to compete on unequal terms, with companies who can obtain essential high-tech services more cheaply, would hamstring them in that battle.

How do we reconcile this with jobs for American workers? Individual American workers are part of a global job market, in which we compete for jobs with people who have lower salary expectations, and often better education, than we do. We can compete by lowering our salaries, or by improving our education.

American education at the highest levels is doing just fine: the scientific and technical programs at American universities are the best in the world. But American citizens are proportionately few in the top-flight PhD programs in physics, mathematics, computer science, etc., because few Americans are adequately prepared at the primary and secondary level to pursue these subjects higher up. Other, much poorer, countries manage to provide such preparation for many of their citizens. How is it that the wealthiest country in the world fails to do so?

The American system of public education has long been cause for shame, and the consequences are now becoming clear: we are failing to prepare our children to compete in the global economy. One of the issues of this presidential election is likely to be offshoring jobs; the first moves towards protectionism are already being made. I’d like to see a presidential candidate address the underlying issue that may ultimately save or ruin the American economy: education to global standards, for all of our citizens.

Unfortunately, some parts of America are heading stubbornly in the opposite direction:

Georgia may shun ‘evolution’ in schools – Revised curriculum plan outrages science teachers, By MARY MacDONALD , The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Georgia Takes on ‘Evolution’ By ANDREW JACOBS, January 30, 2004, The New York Times: “Sarah L. Pallas, an associate professor of biology at Georgia State University, said, “The point of these benchmarks is to prepare the American work force to be scientifically competitive.” She said, “By removing the benchmarks that deal with evolutionary life, we don’t have a chance of catching up to the rest of the world.”

May 3, 2004

The New York Times provides the follow-up to this one: U.S. Is Losing Its Dominance in the Sciences By WILLIAM J. BROAD, May 3, 2004

Also see a New York Times column by Thomas Friedman.

A recent article in the Economist also talks about the globalization of innovation (you may not be able to reach this story unless you are an Economist subscriber – which I heartily invite you to become! It’s one of the world’s best and most internationally-balanced news sources.)

How I Got My (First) Job in Italy

I don’t claim to be a comprehensive resource on any aspect of living in Italy; my reasons for being here are different from some others’: I married into it, which made getting a visa (permesso di soggiorno) and permission to work relatively easy. And that was years ago, so what little I remember about the process is probably out of date. There are sites with expertise to offer about the law and other technicalities; you’ll find some listed here.

When I first arrived here, I had been a mostly stay-at-home mom (in New Haven) since Rossella’s birth, and I was ready to go back to work. I had very little experience in job hunting anywhere, let alone in Italy. One of my major saleable skills was desktop publishing, which in those days was still an arcane art that could be sold as a third-party service. The closest thing I could find in the Milan Yellow Pages was “editoria elettronica”. Neither Enrico nor I was sure what that meant, but I sent off a resumé and cover letter to each of the four or five companies listed. Deafening silence ensued.

I pounded the pavements, taking my resumé to computer firms that might need someone who knew how to put systems together and train people to use them. Showing up with a resumé at an office where no one knows you is not the done thing in Italy; people stared at me uncomprehendingly, and at one place they literally laughed in my face.

I didn’t know what else to do to find computer work. Contacts are all-important in Italy, and I had none in the high-tech field. I did get a few translation jobs, thanks to my father-in-law. This was also the period in which I accidentally became a computer journalist. I could have taught English, but the idea didn’t attract me, and I didn’t want to fall into teaching as a career when I had other skills that ought to be far more valuable.

In June (1991), Enrico had a chance to return to Yale for an academic visit, and Alitalia happened to be offering two-for-one tickets. I figured that, if I couldn’t find work, I might as well go on vacation. So we left Rossella with her grandparents and prepared to take off for a week. This was on a Sunday morning. We were putting luggage into the elevator when the phone rang. I answered it, and the conversation went more or less like this:

“My name is Caffarelli. I received your resumé a while ago. Could you write a software manual?”

“Uh, yes, I guess so.”

I had never actually written a manual, but I had designed and written course materials to train people in using desktop publishing software, and had worked with a friend on a manual he had written for a deep-ocean exploration and recovery apparatus. I didn’t think I’d make a fool of myself in the attempt, at any rate.

When I returned from the trip, I went to meet Fabrizio Caffarelli, who had founded a software company in Milan a few years before. The software in question was for optical character recognition, which I actually knew something about – I had beta-tested some scanners and software, back when a 100 dpi black-and-white scanner cost $10,000. So I wrote the manual, in English, and it was “simultaneously” translated into Italian by Fabrizio’s niece Cristina. We had a great time doing it.

At the end of the six weeks or so that the project took, Fabrizio said to me: “I like the way you work but, unfortunately, I don’t have any more work for you right now.” We parted on good terms, and I recommenced the job hunt (well, not until September — no one does anything in Italy in August). I wrote a few more articles for computer magazines, and began to wonder whether I could write a book about something computer-related, perhaps in Italian. I was casting about for a topic when Fabrizio called, sometime in November. “Would you like to write a book with me?” he asked.

So we wrote Publish Yourself on CD-ROM, published (in English) by Random House. It was one of the first books in the world to include a CD. We didn’t get paid much for writing it (and Fabrizio took the lion’s share of what little there was), but I made some extra money on the deal by desktop-publishing it myself, using FrameMaker software. I also used FrameMaker to create a hypertext version of the book to go on the disc, a skill which was to come in handy later on. The disc mainly contained a demo version of Easy CD 1.0; Fabrizio’s reason for writing a book was to publicize the software by showing how easy it could be to make your own CDs – if you had our software, of course.

By the time the book was published (January, 1993), I was working full-time for Fabrizio, writing software manuals and other materials, and doing just about anything else that came up. (The small-company environment suits me precisely because I get to wear a lot of different hats, and people aren’t so territorial about their jobs.)

Fabrizio moved the engineering team to California in late 1993, and, having conquered the 75% of the worldwide Windows market for CD recording software, sold the company to Adaptec in August, 1995. I was hired by Adaptec and had a very good run with them, and later with the Roxio spin-off, until I quit in 2001. Along the way I helped a few other people find work (hired some myself), in Italy and elsewhere. Most of the freelance work I’ve had since has come through friends: good karma pays off, I guess.

In sum, it’s hard to advise anybody on how to find work in Italy, except in these very general terms: be flexible and patient, meet a lot of people, and when opportunity knocks, be ready to leap on it.


Multitasking

Feb 4, 2004

I said, “I developed a new skill with Fabrizio: simultaneous translation and transcription. If he wanted something written in English, he would dictate it to me in Italian, and I would type it straight out in English. I’m not sure I could do simultaneous translation if I had to speak, but I can do it typing, as fast as he can talk.”

Mike L. responded: “According to recent studies, this is something that (almost) only women can do. The explanation behind this is that the female brain is better capable of handling multiple tasks simultaneously, such as translating and writing. The experiments were quite funny to watch. One person would read a series of words, while the test person was asked to repeat after him. Most of the females managed to speak just a single syllable (sometimes even less) behind, while most of the males had to wait longer. My explanation is that males are equally well capable of multitasking, but one task is constantly allocated to thinking about sex – sex – sex…

Learning Italian

When I first met Enrico, I spoke no Italian, and at some point early in the relationship I decided to learn it. I already had one language under my belt: I had studied Hindi in high school and college, and spoke it fluently. Italian is a lot easier. In terms of pronunciation, it’s one of the simplest languages on earth, having far fewer discrete sounds even than English (whereas Hindi has far more: I had had to learn to distinguish between four different T sounds and four different D sounds – aspirates and non-aspirates, dental and palatal).

Italian grammar is more complex than English, but far less complex than Hindi (not as many inflections). Italians are so delighted that you’re even trying that they will forgive a multitude of errors, which can be a handicap for a learner as they often won’t tell you when you make mistakes.

I took Italian classes at the US Department of Agriculture in Washington, DC. Taking a night class once or twice a week is not an efficient way to learn a language. I got to where I understood a lot, but couldn’t say much. That was cured in the winter of 1989, when Rossella was a baby. She and I stayed a month in Rome with my in-laws, while Enrico was hopping back and forth across the Atlantic, working on his PhD at Yale and searching for an academic job in Italy. My mother-in-law speaks no English (she does speak French), so I was forced to speak Italian. By the end of the month, Enrico’s friends were all commenting on the huge improvement in my Italian.

My spoken Italian took another leap in 1991, when I began working for Fabrizio. He conducted the interview entirely in Italian, and never mentioned that he spoke English. And he had no qualms about correcting my Italian. Some weeks after I started, I ran across a document in the office, written in near-perfect English. “Who wrote this?” I asked. “He did,” said the secretary. But, to this day, Fabrizio refuses to speak English with me. He claims that he can’t understand my accent, though he understands everyone else, American or British (or Chinese or Japanese), just fine. I don’t mind speaking only Italian with him, but it gets awkward when other non-Italian-speakers are around, as I then have to translate for their benefit.

I developed a new skill with Fabrizio: simultaneous translation and transcription. If he wanted something written in English, he would dictate it to me in Italian, and I would type it straight out in English. I’m not sure I could do simultaneous translation if I had to speak, but I can do it typing, as fast as he can talk.

All of my in-laws are university professors, so from them I learned excruciatingly correct Italian. My suoceri (mother- and father-in-law) never use strong language. At most, my suocero says things like “Perdiana!” or “Perbacco!” – “by Diana” or “By Bacchus” – I suppose it’s okay to take the name of the lord in vain, so long as it’s not a god you actually believe in. Or he says “Per tutti i dindiridin.” Don’t ask me what that means.

From Fabrizio, I learned a very different category of Italian. Not that it hasn’t been useful.

Religion in Italian Schools

An agreement was made in 1884 between the Italian Republic and the Vatican, modified by the Lateran Concorde of 1929, and ratified in a new law in 1985, which reads:

The Italian Republic, recognizing the value of religious culture, and keeping in mind that the principles of Catholicism are part of the historic patrimony of the Italian people, will continue to assure, among the broader goals of education, the teaching of the Catholic religion in all public schools below university level.

Respecting the freedom of conscience and educational responsibility of parents, everyone is guaranteed the right to choose whether or not to take advantage of such teaching.

When enrolling, students or their parents can exercise this right, upon request of the school authorities, and their choice may not give rise to any form of discrimination.

In accordance with the law, our daughter Rossella could have started religious education as early as pre-school. I was nervous about this, not wanting her to be catechized at such a young age, but also not wanting her to be the odd kid out. During the enrollment period, parents were invited to group meetings with the principal so that he could explain the school’s philosophy. To my surprise, one father’s biggest concern was to keep his child out of religious instruction – this man looked and sounded 100% Italian, but clearly was not very Catholic. The principal explained that, because he did not want any of his staff to teach religion, he had exercised his option to have a teacher provided by the local diocese. And, in accordance with the law, it was any parent’s right to opt out of this; a supervised alternate activity would be provided. That father and I were both much relieved.

A family friend faced a dilemma with her small child: she needed daycare, but the only place available near home was a private institution run by nuns. With some misgivings, she enrolled her son, and things went on well enough for several months. Until one day the boy came home and said to his mother: “Blessed art thou among women!” She withdrew him immediately.

Rossella’s lack of religious instruction was displayed to the public one day at a museum in Milan. After seeing many paintings of the crucifixion, she said loudly (in Italian): “What does this guy think he’s doing? A balancing act?” All heads snapped around to get a look at the pagan three-year-old.

In elementary school, Ross again did the alternativa, reading myths and legends from around the world and drawing illustrations for them. They also studied a simplified version of the UN’s Convention on the Rights of the Child. There were three or four other kids in alternativa with Ross (at least one of whom was Muslim), but most of the class were doing catechism in preparation for their confirmation (cresima – chrism) at age 9 or so. In some parts of Italian society, confirmation is a very big deal, with a fancy dress for the girls, a restaurant lunch hosted by the family, and presents – a sort of mini-wedding.

Although many prefer less fanfare and expense, most families do choose for their children to go through la cresima; it’s a tradition, though it seems to have lost most of its meaning. One little girl told me firmly: “I’m only going through this so that I can have a church wedding later on. After that, they’ll never see me again.”

The school Ross attended for 6th and 7th grade was very religious. Ross agreed that she should take religion class, to learn about this part of her Italian cultural heritage. The textbook was definitely Catholic, but no mere catechism, and the teaching was not heavy-handed. When she changed schools in 8th grade, she again took religion, and did well in the class, which even discussed some other religions.

In smaller towns, many kids who are not particularly religious or Catholic opt to participate in religion classes, simply because everyone else does – no kid wants to be the weirdo. One American friend’s son even asked if he could do the cresima, so as not to be the only kid in the class who didn’t (he hadn’t been baptized Catholic, so I’m not sure if that was possible).

In Lecco, Ross decided to take religion, like everyone else. It’s taught by a priest, Don Maurizio, but I like his attitude. The first day of class he told them: “I’m not here to convert anybody.” His main aim is to provoke the kids to think and talk about moral and ethical issues. Ross is thoughtful and articulate in his class, so he likes her, and is her champion with the other teachers (who seem to be having trouble understanding her).

That Italian Shoe Thing

My daughter has a shoe fetish, sympathizing whole-heartedly with Carrie Bradshaw‘s need for Manolo Blahniks. Ross herself owns about six pairs of sports shoes – not to run in, but because they’re fashionable (who would actually jog in Pradas?). She also owns various stylish flats, and of course riding boots. She still fondly remembers shoes she owned when she was small, such as the pink and white sneakers with cat faces and, more recently, the pink Converse All-Stars with Spongebob Squarepants laces. At least the pearly violet Fornarinas with the clunky heels didn’t last too long; she outgrew them and gave them away to a friend’s daughter, who stands in awe of Ross’ fashion sense.

I undoubtedly owned some shoes as a child, but I couldn’t tell you anything about them. Whenever possible, I went barefoot, even on the blistering-hot sidewalks in Bangkok. Yes, they were literally blistering hot, at least for novices. When Julianne moved into the big house up the soi (lane) from us, I offered to show her the neighborhood, including the pool next door that we were entitled to use. “Should I put my shoes on?” she asked (in Thailand, no one wears shoes in the house). “Oh, no, it’s only around the corner.” By the time we got there, the soles of her feet were covered in blisters. I guess mine were too callused to feel the heat.

I also went barefoot at my aunt’s place out in the country in Texas, where the hazards were bull nettles and cowflops. If you had to step in something, cowflops were preferable to bull nettles.

Anyway, growing up in the tropics, I didn’t need much shoeing, and to this day am most comfortable in sandals, or no shoes at all. But, having moved to colder climates, I had to come to terms with closed shoes much of the year.

This wasn’t a huge problem in high school and college, where I could usually get away with sneakers (as we used to call sports shoes). Sneakers were even cool. I remember how impressed we all were with the first running shoes we ever saw (Adidas) in Delhi, around 1979.

But now I live in Italy, where an adult wearing sports shoes outside of an actual sporting event (aside from the odd – very odd – jogger) is immediately marked as an American tourist.

I ignored this for years in Milan, didn’t much care what people thought. My sole concession was to buy a pair of leather shoes for the winter – Timberland hiking boots, but at least they’re black, and a bit more elegant than the classic clumpy boot. I love those boots, and was looking forward to getting back into them this winter.

However, I’ve found that, while hiking boots still have their place around the stables, they aren’t good enough for downtown Lecco. This is a small town where everyone knows, or at least notes, everyone else, and I don’t want to disgrace my family. Well, unless it’s raining.

Which brings me, kicking and screaming, into the world of fashion. It’s hard in Italy to buy the simple “classic” shoe styles that I like and find comfortable; all you’ll see in the shops are this season’s trends. For the last few years, the trend has been extremely pointy. In fashion, what goes around comes around – again and again and again. At school, rooting around backstage in the costume trunks, we once found a pair of very old, very pointy shoes. We took turns clomping around in them and had a good laugh. “Cockroach stompers!” – so pointy that you could easily reach into a corner to stomp a cockroach. That’s what’s in the shop windows in Italy (and on my daughter’s feet) these days.

Fortunately, I had bought a couple of pairs of semi-respectable shoes a few years ago, when square toes were in fashion. I don’t like square toes much more than pointy ones, but at least they don’t pinch my toes together and make my feet look even longer than they already are.

I don’t wear high heels, either. I love the look, but lack the balance. My favorite shoes, and the most comfortable heels I own, are cowboy boots, which Sue and I bought after an epic six-hour search all over Dallas (Sue is the only person with whom I could have survived and actually enjoyed this). They’re dancing boots, mid-calf height, black, with fringe. They’re some comfortable that I used to travel in them, though they’re very noisy on hard flooring – people would turn around in airports to stare.

I will say for Italian shoes that they’re very well-made and comfortable. Other shoes you have to “break in,” which really means that they’re breaking you in – you first develop blisters, and then calluses, where they rub. With Italian shoes, I simply put them on and start walking, and have never gotten a blister.