Hefty price to keep our municipalities running
There was a time when we were all but young, small, naive and even innocent, when nudity on television was taboo and when a loaf of bread did not sell for almost R50 (yes, this madness does exist).
There was a time that we as boys dreamed of being a firefighter (I still have no idea why we would be attracted to the possibility of being burned alive), or to be a policeman (this was before the age of great corruption and excessive force), or maybe a doctor (yes, I know, it comes from wanting to play the doctor doctor game way too many times).
Ah, those were the days of illusion when you were oblivious to how politicians were craftier than the snake in the Garden of Eden, and how university fees actually, in all fairness, closed the door to a lot of people’s dreams for education, and thus a future.
It is indeed bliss to be young, when you are not yet worried about rising unemployment, the cost of living spiking or that indeed there might be a bogeyman in your cupboard wanting to take your television set.
When of course you grow a bit older you begin to realise the idea of being a firefighter or a cop or a doctor is actually quite idiotic, just like the idea of being a superhero.
And so we set out on this quest and mission to one day pursue a dream, or for many, just to find any old job and in the process flush the dream down the toilet in the hope of buying a loaf of bread.
This is, after all, the story of South Africa, such as the way many toilets don’t even work because of no running water.
When I grew up, I was adamant I wanted to be a writer, even though my real dream was to become like Stephen King and write a cupboard full of bestsellers so that I could own a cabin in Alaska and an apartment in Paris.
And so, of course, disillusionment always awaits around the corner as you realise it is quite difficult to be published when stuck in the south of Africa, and so the idea of the apartment and the cabin flutters away into the distant horizon, almost like the SABC’s current credibility.
I then buckled down and set my sights on being a journalist, all the while ignoring the warning signs that you do not get into this profession for the pay. After all, as many die-hard journalists would say, this is not a profession but a way of life.
Yes, I ended up in journalism, and yes, you do find out that everybody was right that you should not get into this profession if you want to get rich.
Nor should you be a firefighter or a cop (well, maybe some of them) to get rich, or to stay alive, in all honesty.
I have come to realise more than ever that in South Africa we should be encouraging our children to work for the municipality.
No, I am serious.We sit with an army of public servants (around two to three million) so it seems there are enough jobs to go around.
And then if you are lucky, you become a manager, or a department head, or any of the hosts of deputies, and then you are swimming in the cash and singing “Money for Nothing” by Dire Straits on the Gravy Train.
Yes, it seems the pay is really good when you are a civil servant, and you don’t need to run the risk of saving someone from a burning building or having to face a horde of protesting students who are anything but intellectual when burning down the very buildings in which they are being educated.
As a civil servant you don’t even need to be a politician, dealing with “Pay Back the Money” chants or whatever other nonsense being spouted in our so-called hallowed halls called the Parliament.
You may wonder what I am getting at. It was recently reported that over a quarter of municipal expenditure in the 2014-15 financial year went towards employee costs, according to a financial census of municipalities.
The figures for the period from July 1, 2014 to June 30, 2015 showed that 25.6 per cent of expenditure was allocated for employee-related costs, which include salaries and benefits.
If you dig a bit deeper, for example, you find that local government pay rose by 53 per cent between 2006/2007 and 2009/2010.
It was, back then, revealed in the Local Government Budgets and Expenditure Review, which showed municipalities’ aggregate spending on employees’ remuneration ballooned from R30.6-billion to R46.7-billion.
And it was also revealed that wages were expected to rise by a further 7.1 per cent on average, reaching R57.3-billion by 2012/2013 (which I am sure it did).
Yes, I know, we are talking years ago, but the reality is that nothing has really changed and that a lot of money is being blown on salaries in the public sector.
This is why I have often heard from economists that in order to save this economy we need to address the hefty price tag attached to our army of public servants.
Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that all parents should be encouraging their children to become a public servant and gun for a position at the municipality.
By all accounts, it seems pay is very good, and so are the benefits, and you will be in the close vicinity to scream for help when your power is accidentally cut off, or you find a water leak being unattended to for weeks or you hit a pothole that has never been filled.
At the risk of disillusionment setting in, let us cast aside flights of fancy and shoot for a safe bet – municipality worker – so that you become part of the army that eventually consumes the country’s dwindling resources.
Or alternatively, get into sport (oh wait, I forgot about the looming giant of the quota system).
