The Bern Onion Market

With this post, I'd like to convey the complexity of the Swiss federation. And, in order to plumb the depths of the iconic democracy, Nazy I joined the AWCZ on an excursion to Bern, the capital. Naturally, I was excited.

“Are we going to see the Parliament building?” I asked. “I’ve heard that it has just been restored.”

“No, that was last month’s trip. You were in America. Besides, I think they’ve closed the building to repair the restoration.”

“Maybe they’re scrapping the gold off of the dome to finance the UBS bailout.” I replied. “So, what are we going to see?”

“We are going, Dan,” Nazy enthused, “to the Bern Zibelemärit.”

“Zibelemärit? Doesn’t’ ‘zibel’ have something to do with onions?”

“That’s right. We are going to the world-famous Bern International Onion Festival.”

“Is it too late to get off of the train?”

“People come by the thousands. This festival is unique…”

“I’m not surprised.”

“… in the entire world. Farmers bring onions and garlic to the town square.”

“My nerve endings are beginning to tingle, Nazy.”

“The onions, more than 50 tons, are displayed in artistically woven plaits.”

“Will I be able to handle the excitement?”

“They sell onion tarts, onion soup, onion…”

“ Rings?”

“… and even onion wine.”

“Yuck!”

“Local artisans decorate the onions to produce colourful…”

“Stuff?”

“Precisely. And the crowds joyously throw confetti and hit each other on the head with hammers.”

“Are you making this up, Nazy?”

“No, I’m reading the guide.”

“And it says: ‘hit each other on the head with hammers’? Really?”

“That’s the old tradition. Now they sell plastic hammers that ‘beep’ when you smack someone.”

And so it goes. I know that any description of such festivities is, at best, woefully inadequate. I am helplessly unable to articulate the clear difference between the Onion Extravaganza and other Swiss activities: the world-renowned Richterswil Turnip Spectacle, the Swiss-European Pumpkin Carnival, the Zürich Street Parade or the annual Sechsleuten Celebration. These traditions, with roots in the Middle Ages..

“Actually, Dan,” Nazy interrupts. “The Onion Festival began in the 20th century.”

As I was saying, eh, writing: We live in a country that has a wonderful mix old and new traditions.

Negotiations

I was wrapping up discussion with my customer, a large bank:

“It sounds to me like you want us to pass along lower prices, but you also want us to eat all cost increases.”

“Precisely.”

“That sounds like the ‘have your cake and eat it too’ clause.” I thought.

“Can we assume that you agree?” The procurement executive smiled.

“We live in troubled times.” I replied. “For example, I have challenges with my mortgage. I’d like The Bank to provide an adjustable rate mortgage that adjusts downward when interest rates decrease, but never moves upwards.”

“But..”

“And, with falling prices, I need to keep my equity intact. So – I require that the principal of my mortgage to be adjusted (annually) so that the total I owe is never more than 80% of the market value of my house. Naturally, I want this “principle adjustment clause” to apply only when prices fall.”

“We’d lose money under that arrangement.”

“But losing money on mortgages is your core (in)competency.” “I thought.

“You can’t expect us to underwrite such risky mortgages.”

I looked at them. (sub-primely)

The Meltdown - reprise

I continue to look with amazement at wreckage of the global economy. A friend said that he had attended a private governmental briefing..

“… and it is much worse than you think.” Rob said.

“That’s impossible,” I thought.

“Governments have already spent $7.8 trillion ($7,800,000,000,000.00) and it’s not going to be enough. It’s just going to get worse.”

“So,” I replied. “We’re not close to the end.”

“He said that we were getting close to the end of the beginning. The banks acted just liked people. It’s like using a credit card to buy a Ferrari even though you have no money. Now the banks have to work themselves out of the hole.”

“I can recommend someone with expertise in this area,” I thought.

“The bankers actually believed that they were brilliant. Dick Fuld, former CEO of Lehman’s, gave a talk at Swiss Re a year ago. He said he was successful because everyone worked together and agreed on a course of action. He said ‘I pay Simon $100M/year and he agrees with me. I pay Marcus $75M/year and he agrees with me..”

“I’d agree with him for a lot less,” I interrupted. “Perhaps,” I thought, “I understand why I don’t always agree with Nicola.”

“The Swiss government tried to recover the bonus that UBS paid to their former CEO, but he wouldn’t return it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He said he had earned it.”

“Didn’t UBS take a $70B writedown?” I replied. “Aren’t they being bailed out by the taxpayers?”

“Precisely.”

A Famous Nose

Nazy was in charge of the social diary for every day of the week. [Thus: “It was a day like any other day – filled with those events that alter and illuminate our time.”] On Tuesday we went to the Osswald Parfumerie Boutique. Naturally, I was thrilled.

“Wow.” I said (somewhat) excitedly.

“For your information, Dan, Mark Buxton, one of the world’s most famous noses, will be there.” Nazy was considerably more excited.

“A famous nose?” I asked – just before sneezing. “Do you have a Kleenex?”

“You are hopeless, Dan. Mark’s credo is ‘simplicity is the ultimate degree of luxury’. What do you think about that?”

“Is perfume an ultimate simplicity?”

Nazy was undeterred. “Look at his newest creation: Nameless. Take a sniff. Now, Dan, what do you think about ‘Nameless’?”

“I’m clueless,” I thought. “Priceless,” I replied after scanning the bottom of the bottle.

“Nameless – sitting on a terrace at Lake Como,” Nazy was reading the marketing blurb.

“I like Lake Como.” A pointless thought had sprung into mind.

“… With notes of mandarin, cardamom, orange flower, lavender, cinnamon, coffee, clove, jasmine, amber, ciste, wood, guaia, patchouli, cedarwood and benzoin.” Nazy continued.

“What about chocolate?” I asked.

“What?”

“And, eh, lamb chops, barbequed ribs…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Would you like to go to dinner?”

The Symphony

I’m back in Zürich after a short trip to New York City. The flight was astonishingly uncharacteristic. It left on time. It arrived on time. And even though I was following the company policy of CPF [Cheapest Possible Fare], I was nevertheless placed, all by myself, in a row of three seats. Afraid that a disgruntled fellow traveller might covet one of “my” three seats, I moved into lateral class as soon as the airplane left the ground. My good luck continued when I fell asleep and missed the (gasp!) economy class dinner.

When I got to Casa Carmen, I took a short nap. (Nazy was at her art class.) That evening, courtesy of our Credit Suisse banker (Martina), we were…

“Going to the Tonhalle, Dan,” Nazy said.

“The Tonhalle?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s next to the Congresshaus. We’re going to see a symphony.”

“A symphony?”

“Yes, Dan.” Nazy glared. “Classical Music with..”

“Traditional instruments like violins?” I asked.

“Are you trying to be difficult?” Nazy replied.

“I don’t have to try, my dear.”

The orchestra featured a visiting pianist named Radu Lupu.

“He looks like Radovan Karadzic,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Before he grew the beard, of course.”

In fact, Lupu is well-known to piano connoisseurs because he is one of the best pianists in the world. According to Wikapedia:

His rigorous stage persona became part of his allure: he never chats with the audience, or even smiles;
instead he appears intensely focused, and even refuses the comfort of a padded piano bench--
preferring instead a standard office chair. His sole interaction with the audience is a glare when he wishes
it to be silent.

Lupu is good. Moreover, there is nothing quite like a full symphony orchestra playing in a grand venue. On the other hand, it was the end of a very long day and..

“You were sleeping!” Nazy wasn’t impressed.

“My eyes may have been closed, my dear,” I replied. “But, I always listen to beautiful music with my eyes closed.”

“Do you drool when you’re listening to music?”

Note to reader: I was not drooling. (Really!)

A New Boss?

Following habit, I checked my eMail when I returned to the hotel. I just had time to dial-in to a “very important” con-call.

“I bet they’re going to remind me that the end of quarter is nigh,” I thought.

I was wrong.

It quickly became apparent that the purpose of the call was to announce the departure of my boss, Nicola. I can’t say that this was a surprising development. Nicola’s (old) job has historically been, eh, a road that leads directly out of HP.

Four people have held this job in the last four years; all have left. The profiles of the unfortunate managers are varied because the company has no clue about what they want from the person holding the job. Alberto was highly detailed oriented – managing with a 2000 row, 300 column spreadsheet. Andrew was clueless and disconnected; he saw customers only when the location and time coincided with an international Rugby match. Jose understood the financial markets and was brilliant but completely unfocused. Nicola had no background in Financial Services, but he was well-connected with EMEA management.

The job, Vice President of Financial Services Industries in EMEA, has neither budget nor staff – just responsibility. The incumbent has to manage, by influence, several very senior people – like me. It’s just like my job except that I don’t have to influence anyone as troublesome as me.

Pesky business meetings interfered with the major purpose of the trip – Nazy’s shopping list. I finally located the Kenobo Emulsifier, Comet Scouring Powder (which is illegal in Switzerland), a Queen-sized Mattress Pad and some fake sugar (i.e. Splenda™).

Breathless with excitement (and anxious to take credit), I called Nazy in Zürich. She was overjoyed to hear of my superior shopping success.

“I asked for Bon Ami, Dan. Not Comet. And the Splenda is for you.”

“But the Kenobo…”

“… Emulsifier II?”

“… naturally, my dear.” (II made a mental note to confirm.)

“Well. It’s snowing in Zürich. See you soon.”

In case you're wondering... the picture has nothing whatsoever to do with the content.

The Travel Division

The Travel Division carefully selected the ¢heapest ticket - thereby rendering my Continental Airlines Platinum Elite status as useful as a goat in an aquarium. Departure occurred on the Sunday that marked the end of Daylight Savings Time. But I still had to forgo the extra hour of sleep because the Continental simply moved departure time one hour earlier.

The flight was smooth, if somewhat cramped. I immediately noticed the gargantuan gravitational field generated by the sheer mass of my seatmate. (He had collapsed into a sphere.) Fortunately, he was two seats away and there was an ostensibly empty seat between us. For safety reasons, I believe the airline placed him in the middle column of seats in the (suitably named) wide-body aircraft.

Flashing my Diamond status at the Hilton Times Square, I was met with…

“I am very sorry, sir,” the clerk said. “Your American Express card has been rejected.”

“It is a company card,” I replied. “It cannot be rejected,” I thought - inaccurately.

Settling into my room after paying with my personal card, I telephoned American Express.

“We have an eMail from your company asking us to cancel the card.”

“Really?” I replied. “Who sent the eMail?”

“There is no name on the message…”

“… you cancelled my card because of an unsigned eMail?”

“There is a telephone number.”

“A telephone number that sends me directly into voicemail,” I thought – accurately.

A “discussion” with European Human Resources followed. It appears that my American Express profile allows collection of Frequent Flyer points when used to pay for a hotel. This faux pas is in direct violation of the (new) corporate policy. The new approach touts “Operational Efficiency” i.e. doing everything the cheapest possible way. It seems like we get a price break if we don’t collect frequent flyer miles. Accordingly, for hotels, I will move from Diamond to sedimentary rock status and for airlines from Platinum Elite to Tinfoil Sub-Normal

Wall Street Tie

I was visiting New York for a series of meetings with Deutsche Bank. The meetings took place in the Deutsche Bank offices on Wall Street. I took the subway to the Chambers Street exit and decided (with some trepidation) to walk the last few blocks to Wall Street.

“I wonder if I’ll have to step over any bodies,” I thought.

“That’s a great tie.” I heard a voice to my left.

“Really?” I replied both flabbergasted and succinctly. I was speaking to a ABC news reporter.

“I like the colors.”

“Purple, Red, Yellow, Pink, Green…” I thought.

“It’s not traditional and it’s certainly not boring,” Joe Torres, Eyewitness News Anchor Reporter observed.

“If you really like it..”

“I do..”

“… and you’re not just joking with me, would you be willing to write a note to my wife?”

“Here’s my card. Have her drop me an eMail.”

The following eMail has arrived in Nazy’s mailbox:


Dear Mrs. Martin,

It appears there’s a hint of suspicion in your husband’s “news reporter liked my tie” story. Well, I’m here to corroborate his claims. I noticed his tie. I liked his tie. And I told him so. If there was a wager between you and Mr. Martin, regretfully, you’ll have to pay up. Did it go well with the rest of his outfit…ah…sure. It was a bit bold for Wall Street standards, but who looks at business executives for fashion cues? Navy suit, white shirt, red tie…how ordinary.

Now, in the realm of full disclosure, you should know this: I’m no style guru. In fact, like you, my wife chooses my workday outfit. The first step in overcoming a problem is admitting you have one. In the world of the fashion challenged, Dan and I are in the same boat.

Sincerely,

Joe Torres

Ah ha!

Debris and Wreckage

Debris and wreckage from the on-going chaos in the financial markets continues to accumulate. The Switzerland government has arranged a CHF 70,000,000,000.00 bailout, eh, rescue fund for UBS. This is equivalent to every person (man, women and child) in Switzerland making a contribution of CHF 9,300. Per capita, this dwarfs the American bailout. The collapse of swissair was traumatic for the local citizens, but a banking failure would be unbearable. Some people are blaming me.

“Everything was fine until you began working in Financial Services,” Peter said.

“I don’t think..”

“I bet you even flew on Swissair.”

“Well..”

“And you told your own son that he should work in Iceland,” Bert commented.

“The alternative was Pakistan,” I replied.

“Actually, Dan,” Nazy interrupted. “The alternative was California.”

“Same difference,” I thought.

“Didn’t you also destroy ContiCommodity and COMPAQ?” Larry asked.

“They didn’t need my help.” I replied.

“You used to work with ING – and now they need government support.” Jim noted.

“ING said that they didn’t need money,” I said. “Everybody needs money,” I thought.

“So what are you going to do,” Jim, Larry, Bert, Nazy and Peter asked.

In times like this, it is important to be positive. If you’re mired in muck, open a mud-wrestling emporium. (On the other hand, I felt like a guy trying to sell water conversation technology in the middle of a flood.) Then inspiration:

“I am going to improve the human situation on the planet,” I exclaimed. “I will ask HP to transfer me to the Defense Industry sector. In a few years, no weapon will work. Discourse and negotiation will replace conflict and warfare.”

“You’ll get the Nobel Peace Prize, Dan.”

“I love the support I get from my spouse,” I thought as I opened an official-looking envelope that had arrived in the mail. The government, asking me to stay away from cheese and chocolate, reminded me that my broken Coo-coo Clock was made in Germany.