December 2002

Why looking for a job is so hard

    

  

 
In September 2002, the unemployment rate in Singapore hit 4.8%, higher than the peak 4.3% during the Asian economic crisis 1997 and 1998. Even those still in work have faced pay cuts as the recession has deepened. Some of them have been looking for part-time work to make up for the shortfall.

Yet, as headlined a few times in the Straits Times these last few months, recruitment has proven s difficult as ever for many employers who still have vacancies, e.g. shipyards and hotels. There's been a multitude of reasons why people didn't want those jobs: the work's "dirty", they're too far from home, they require shift rosters or they're in the service industry -- thus it means personally dealing with customers! Many complained that the jobs on offer paid less than their previous jobs (from which they were retrenched).

Employers told the Straits Times that typically, fewer than half who are given an interview appointment show up for the interview. Of those lucky enough to get the job, many don't even show up for work. Of those who show up for work, many quit within days or weeks.

My little business doesn't have many jobs on offer, but when we do, we face all the same problems as described in the press. It can be extremely frustrating when no one shows up and a monumental waste of our time when they do -- we invest effort training him and then he disappears after 5 weeks.

But I have noticed one extra reason which the Straits Times journalists never caught wind of. Many job candidates fail to show up for interviews because they can't even find the place! Lots of young men that we've come across -- and they tend to be the younger guys -- can't figure out our local addresses! 

 

Here are three real incidents that'll give you an idea of the problem:

  1. The job candidate called us about 15 minutes after the scheduled appointment time. He said he couldn't find our shop. We asked him to read back to us the address he had in hand. It was correct. In order to direct him from wherever he was, we asked him his location at that point in time. He didn't know. What road was he on? He didn't know. What landmarks could he see around him? "Gim Soon Fruits Stall". Not surprisingly, we didn't recognise the name. We asked for a bigger landmark. "Well, there's a big shopping centre that I walked past a while ago," he said. What was the name of the shopping centre? He didn't know, except that there was a MacDonalds (or was it Burgerking?) there. We suggested that he ask some passers-by the name of the road and the cross-junction where he was. He said he'd do that and call back. He never did.

  2. The job candidate called us from Tanjong Pagar metro station. We had told him the day before that that would be the nearest station. We had also told him to look at the locality map inside the station and work out from there the shortest walking route to Neil Road, where we were located. So when he called from Tanjong Pagar station, we asked him if he had first looked at the map as instructed. He said no. Why not? He said he didn't know how to read maps (he had a polytechnic diploma!) -­ and he owned up to this without any embarrassment. Although we were a bit annoyed, we patiently gave walking directions. Yet he never turned up.

  3. The third guy called about 3 or 4 hours after the appointed hour. He said he tried to come but couldn't find our address. Did he manage to find Neil Road? we asked. Yes, he did. Did he have our number, 118? Yes, he had the number in hand, but he couldn't find it, he said. He saw shop numbers 75,77,79,81 and so on, but no 118. Did he by any chance look at the other side of the street? we asked. No, should he have? Why? he asked. We bit our tongue. Anyway, the reason he called was to ask for another appointment date. We reluctantly gave him one. Still, he never came.

 

 I call this urban illiteracy.

We have a whole new generation of Singaporeans who can't figure out their own city. For all their 10 years of schooling -- more in the case of the polytechnic graduate -- some of them are completely illiterate when it comes urban topography.

A closer examination of the 3 examples above would indicate these specific failings:

Not knowing the search method

The first one had absolutely no idea that in searching for an address, as in any search, you'd start with the larger scale and then drill down into finer detail. You first have to find the street, then the house number (and if in a larger building, the unit number). He obviously didn't know the importance of getting to the right street, since he was wandering around the entire district paying no attention to street names.

 

Out in the suburbs. . .

It doesn't help that in large parts of Singapore, what we call the "HDB heartlands" where most people live, the numbering convention breaks down.

In these suburbs, everyone lives in huge apartment blocks. These blocks often face one street (or none), but vehicles approach from another street behind. Does the block take its address from the front street or the back (vehicular) street?

Generally, it takes its address from the vehicular access street.

However, since the majority of Singaporeans don't drive, they tend to walk to their blocks from the main frontal street where bus stops are often found, perhaps weaving between blocks or via a nameless park.

The result in people's minds, is a disconnect between the route they actually approach by (the frontal street, footpath or park), and the street which gives the block its formal address. It’s no wonder then that many who grow up in such neighbourhoods don't know what significance to give to a street name. In their suburbs, the formal street name of their block has nothing to do with how to get to it!

Moreover, the block numbers don't run in any particular order. There is usually some clustering, i.e. Block 155 can be expected to be in the vicinity of Block 159. But the numbers don't run consecutively, because the blocks are seldom built in a linear arrangement. You can't count your way to your block. So here again, it is no surprise if Singaporeans don't attach any significance to the numbers either!

 But if the street name means nothing, if locating by number is approximate at best, what system do Singaporeans know of to locate an address? No system at all. Just ring up your friend!

 

No map-reading skills

The second one amazed us with this failing. That he didn't feel embarrassed about it suggested that among his peers, it wasn't considered a necessary kind of literacy!

Not knowing the numbering convention

The third one had no idea that in most of the older streets in Singapore, odd numbers ran on one side and even numbers on the opposite side. Worse, while he took note of the house-numbers he walked past, he was completely blind to the pattern of odd numbers right before his eyes. If he had noticed the pattern, he might have figured out the numbering convention even if he hadn't known it before.

* * * * *

 
Where are the problem-solving skills?

Not being able to find our door suggests a bigger problem: that these young Singaporeans lack problem-solving skills. Indeed, I've come to realise it is a good test for job candidates. Are they able to approach the problem in a systematic way? Do they know what resources they should refer to – and there are plenty of street maps sold in bookshops and prominently displayed in all metro stations – and how to use them? Do they do a bit of preparatory research before setting out from home, or do they even lack that little bit of self-discipline?

Instead, they wander around haphazardly or they assiduously note the odd-numbered houses without the street-smarts to see what they're seeing. And rather than solve the problem themselves, they just call us on their mobile phone for help. They need the hand-holding.

I don’t think it even occurs to them that these calls are an inconvenience to us. We're busy enough as it is; we shouldn't have to do for these job applicants what they should do for themselves.

Our education system created all this. It's a system that prioritises the spotting of examination questions; memorising lecture notes and model answers. That is to say, paper qualifications at the expense of practical skills, and lots of spoon-feeding and  hand-holding.

And we wonder why we have so few entrepreneurs, why people are floundering so badly when the economy softens. Too many Singaporeans just don't know how to help themselves. OK, not everyone needs to start his own business. Yet, even when there's a job available, they can't find it!

© Yawning Bread 

 

As for downtown. . .

Downtown too, the convention breaks down, or rather, it becomes invisible. Too many buildings are known by their names (or try to be); little prominence is given to their numbers. Along a stretch of Orchard Road, there's The Heeren, Faber House, The Emerald, Centrepoint, Orchard Point, Orchard Plaza, Cuppage Plaza, Meridian Hotel… nobody knows what numbers these buildings are.

Some folks are totally confused by Orchard Point, Orchard Plaza, Orchard Building, Orchard Towers, Orchard Hotel, Orchard Parade Hotel.

Others are confused by Far East Plaza, Far East Shopping Centre, Far East Square and Far East Mansions. Unlike the Orchard set, these Far East cousins are scattered kilometres apart!

This trend to "brand" a building, to try to make it stand out as an exception, runs counter to civic order. Civic order requires everyone to follow a standardised system, so that big and small alike can be located. Exceptionalism seeks to establish a priority mental hyperlink to a key building. Mention its name, and people should know, in a short-circuited thought, where it is. You locate the building by knowing it in isolation, not by applying the address convention.

However, if too many building owners do this, location-finding is utterly randomised. The address convention falls into disuse, and finally fades from consciousness. Which, as we can see, is what is happening.

 

Footnotes

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Addenda

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