The first issue of 1996 takes another look at work in Taiwan, this time focusing on blue-collar professions: people whose jobs require physical stamina as well as manual skills acquired through apprenticeship, technical education, or long experience, and (in most cases) a form of official certification.
In many blue-collar fields, Taiwan plays by its own rules. Occupations that in North America or Europe are usually subject to detailed regulations concerning establishment, mode of operation, safety, staff welfare, taxation, and attention to consumer rights, in Taiwan tend to be run on a more freewheeling basis. A diver explains that it is common practice to “borrow” licenses in order to meet the requirements for setting up a diving company. A mover says some elements in his profession will dump your possessions in the street unless you pay more than the agreed fee. A driving instructor comments that all you need to work in his field is three years’ experience on the roads and an ordinary driver’s license.
Yet there is a positive side, one that shows in people’s attitudes. For example, the beautician who doesn’t pressure clients into using her services because she would feel uncomfortable herself in such a situation. The airline mechanic and the power company worker who agree that safety comes first, always. The electrician who took professional exams he didn’t have to, out of sheer interest. The tai chi instructor who will not accept payment from her students. The painter who reduces his original estimate if the job comes in cheaper.
One matter for consumer concern that emerges from these interviews is the shortage of licensing systems in Taiwan, a problem compounded by what seems to be a widespread indifference toward existing regulations and the probability of their enforcements. Yet, for many of Taiwan’s blue-collar professionals, the need for certification and control have been replaced by something else: Willingness and ability to work hard. A certain sense of the dignity of labor. Belief in personal standards. Above all, a quiet, deep-seated, and frequently justified sense of professional pride.
“But, hey,” one man said at the end of his interview. “You have to believe you can do better.” No vocational school can teach that.