Who Moved my Job? is a short story about globalization and the migration of work throughout the world. I’ve written several more formal books on the subject, and my next book is entitled Talking Outsourcing so you can guess what that’s about, but I wanted to try exploring some ideas of migration by using a story.
The English sheepdogs who live on Manor farm find that they are charged with training some new foreign dogs who join them on the farm. They are eventually replaced by the newcomers and they need to find how the skills they learned in the country might be applied to life in the city.
Here is the moment when the new dogs arrive on the farm:
It was dawn. The piercing whistle of the farmer brought Winston, Charlie, and Blair running from the barn where they liked to sleep. The barn was more comfortable than the farmhouse, even though the farmer would never mind them entering the house. In the barn they had protection from the cold, the sun, fresh water, and just the occasional rat to chase when they were not working – the young rats that had yet to learn about avoiding the dogs.
The farmer was down by the house and he had three dogs there alongside him. They were all sitting in a line looking rather like sentries guarding some historic treasure. These dogs were new on the farm. None of the Collies had ever seen them before.
Winston was perplexed at the strange sight. A sheepdog should only look like a Collie. A Collie can vary in height and weight a little and can be a mixture of black and tan and white, but a Collie is always a Collie. What could the farmer be doing with these strange new animals? They were all clearly dogs, but for certain none of them was a sheepdog.
One had long shaggy hair. It looked a complete mess. His hair was so long it covered his eyes. He kept flicking his head to move the hair away from the front of his face – as if a fly was constantly buzzing around his face. One was quite similar to the Collies, perhaps with a shorter coat, but still quite similar. Certainly dog-like. It was even a similar black and white to the markings of Blair and Charlie’s coat. The other dog just looked plain strange. It had a face that was squashed, squashed flat with rolls of skin lolling around his cheeks and chin.
“What kind of dogs are you?” Winston asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog like any of you before, especially not around here. Are you here to work with us on the farm? Are you sure you know how to herd sheep.
The big hairy one responded first, with a warm smile on his face.
“Hello. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Lech. I know all about herding sheep, and my friends here do as well. I’m known as a Polish Lowland Sheepdog, or a Nizzy if you prefer. My breed has been herding sheep in Poland for centuries. I’m surprised you have never heard about us – in Poland we know all about the famous Border Collies from Scotland.”
“This is England, not Scotland.” Winston grumpily retorted. This hairy Polish beast was a bit too good, just too polite, for his own good.
“Yes of course I know that. In fact, I know that this farm is located in Bedfordshire; we are not very far from London, your capital city. An old Border Collie once taught me the history of your breed so I know all about your ancestors on the Scottish borders. You are quite a long way from home as well!” Lech carried on: “Let me introduce you to my friends here. Pandit and Mozi, why don’t you introduce yourself to the Collies?”
“Thank you brother.” The dog with the squashed face stepped forward a single pace. “Hello. I’m Mozi. I’m a Chinese Shar Pei. We have a proud history stretching back thousands of years as herding dogs and as expert guards to people and their property. The Chinese nobility have valued our protection for longer than China has been known as China. Forget about your tiny highlands in Scotland. Try herding along the Mongolian border and you know what it means to herd dumb animals.”
Mozi started scratching his body with a hind leg. The folds of skin on his body sagged and rolled with each scratch. The third dog in the makeshift line grinned and stepped forward a little. He coughed and introduced himself to the Collies.
“I am very pleased to be meeting you. My name is Pandit and I’m known as a Dhangari dog. My own heritage is Indian. To be more precise I originate from a place known as Maharashtra. That’s the name of a state in India. You may be aware of Bombay, or Mumbai as it’s known now. That’s the closest big city to my home. Well, actually Aurangabad is probably the closest big city to my home, but I guess you have never heard of the place. It’s very nice – there are some impressive caves nearby. Everyone knows Bombay… sorry Mumbai…”
Lech coughed and interrupted Pandit’s flow. It seemed he was used to his Indian friend talking too much and they had an agreed way to end these streams of canine consciousness.
Winston, Charlie, and Blair stared at the dogs – if they could be called dogs – with a sense of disbelief. They were very friendly, but they were not Collies. One had more hair than the sheep he claimed to have experience of herding. All the Collies were thinking the same thoughts without speaking. The sheep must be very strange in Poland. The Shar Pei was so majestic and controlled it appeared as if he could never have really known life on a farm. The Indian dog seemed earnest and hard working and he looks a bit like a Collie, but he sounded very indecisive. Sheep don’t let you get away with indecision out in the field. They thrive on it.
Winston wondered out loud: “What is the farmer doing?” Just then, the farmer explained what he was doing.
“I’m glad to see you all getting along with each other. Winston, I’m leaving it up to you to ensure that these new dogs learn about the farm. They need to understand how English sheep behave and how we work around here. Make sure they all feel comfortable on the farm and make sure that all three of them learn everything they need to know. I’m depending on you to do this for me.”
So, the new dogs joined the Border Collies on Manor farm. They found another spot within the barn and created their own home there. All six dogs now slept in the barn, but in two groups of three, the English old-timers and the foreign newcomers…
Mark Kobayashi-Hillary (www.markhillary.com) is a director of the UK National Outsourcing Association and visiting lecturer at London South Bank University.
