Turnover, Max Barry, and France

Currently, young people in France are staging riots to defeat a proposition to make it possible to fire employees under 26 within 2 years of employment. Not just in France, but throughout Europe, 20-somethings graduate from college and not just want, but expect a job for life. In France, not only do dismissals for any reason require large severance payouts, employees can go to court to challenge ANY dismissal--and more often than not, courts rule that the employer does not have the right to fire the worker. These young people experience an unemployment rate of 22%, yet refuse the opportunity to work without assurance of employment indefinitely.

Being a cynical American whose second manger in six months is moving on to bigger and better things, I find the prospect of a job for life not just fanciful, but vaguely horrifying. A job for life? Why on earth does anyone find that appealing? While I would enjoy being guaranteed employment for life, being "stuck" in a job for life seems disturbing to me.

[Notice to Corporate Spies: I have no intention of leaving. I like my job. Don't fire me.]

Then I read a book over the past weekend and wonder if I'm not just putting an idealistic spin on some of those unfortunate conservative impulses that occassionally arise.

Max Barry takes a much darker view on the idea of "employment at will." I don't know what Hewlett-Packard did to him, but the bitterness filling the book he cheekily dedicated to them is pervasive, shocking, and (often) hysterical.

His (condensed) take on the subject:

"There are stories--legends, really--of the 'steady job.' Old-timers gather graduates around the flickering light of a computer monitor and tell stories of how the company used to be, back when a job was for life. [...] The problem with employees, you see, is everything. You have to pay to hire them and pay to fire them, and, in between, you have to pay them. They need business cards. They need computers. They need ID tags and security clearances and phones and air-conditioning and somewhere to sit. [...] They want raises. They want management to notice when they do a good job. They want to know what's going to happen in the next corporate reorganization. And lawsuits! They sue for sexual harrassment, for an unsafe workplace, for discrimination in thirty-two different flavors. For--get this--wrongful termination. Wrongful termination! These people are only here because you've brought them into the corporate world. Suddenly you're responsible to them for life? [...] The old-timers' stories are fairy tales, dreams of a world that no longer exists. They rest on the bizarre assumption that people somehow deserve a job. The graduates know better; they've been taught that they don't" (Company 41-43).

Now, I realize that the complaints of the French and the satire of Max Barry are aimed at different targets--respectively, the government and corporations. Yet the underlying argument is similar. What, precisely, do employers owe employees (and vice-versa)? What is the correct balance between protecting the bottom line and protecting your employees? What is the tipping point between treating your employees like "assets" or "resources" and guaranteeing them employment under any circumstances? Do you scare employees to make them efficient, or do you care about them to make them grateful?

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As far as Company goes, I recommend it with reservations. It's essentially 1984 set in a corporation and somehow made funny. The language is bitingly clever, and the concept is real enough to make a statement but absurd enough you don't have to identify with the characters. The plot started out strong but flagged a bit towards the end. Barry really can't blame himself for the slightly disappointing ending; in order to make his argument he had to write himself into a corner where his only options were to be all Nick Hornby and have no ending, end in despair, or end in ridiculousness.