It's Tough to Be a Security Guard in Hong Kong

John, a 78 year old security guard in Hong Kong, is making ends meet earning 13 Hong Kong dollars per hour. (That's roughly $1.62 USD per hour.)

The minimum wage law, which is 28 Hong Kong dollars per hour ($4 USD per hour), has been in force for almost a year. Prior to one year ago, there was no minimum wage in Hong Kong.

The average monthly income for half of Hong Kong people is $100 USD per month. Hong Kong is not a cheap place to live. Rent in Hong Kong is among the most expensive in the world--a tiny apartment that is 400 square feet can cost $1250 USD per month (not counting utilities). John makes $593 USD/month. You do the math.

Not being able to afford rent, the security guard has chosen to live in a stairway in the building where he works. He somehow manages to survive on $4.30 USD per day. The rest of his money he sends to a relative in mainland China who has cancer.

There was a lot of heated discussion about instituting a minimum wage law in Hong Kong last year. And although it finally passed, the law has not helped the 10,000 workers, according to the Society of Community Organisation, who fear they will be fired if they complain that they are not earning the minimum.

Also not helped are whole classes of workers like the thousands of women imported from the Philippines for domestic labor who were excluded from coverage.

Nor has it helped the thousands of workers whose employers, upon passage of the law, decided to make their employees monthly contract workers. This move thereby offered employees a monthly flat rate while eliminating them from hourly minimum wage stipulations. Employers then raised the hours that employees must work per day and week. The result has been a net reduction in employees' pay.

John, who refuses to give his real name because he is afraid of losing his job, works 12 hours per day, seven days a week. "I am too old. No one will employ me," he said wearing a face mask to avoid recognition.

There are many such stories about people like John in Hong Kong.There are stories about working people who live in cage apartments.The apartments are called that because they look exactly like small cages. There are stories about families who live in flats that have been subdivided into many tiny cubicle "flats". And then of course, there are the people who live on the streets...or in staircases.

Hong Kong has one of the largest gaps between poor and rich in the world and it is growing, much as it is growing throughout the US, mainland China, and the rest of the world. As developers build more and more luxury apartments for rich Chinese mainlanders who are eager to grab property in Hong Kong, estimates are that more than half of the Hong Kong population await affordable public housing by waiting on lists that extend out for years since affordable housing construction has not kept abreast of the need.

It has been quite an experience to live in a city, full of first world opulence and opportunity. Hong Kong has neighborhoods abundant with beautiful, spacious apartments, glittering malls packed with Gucci and Prada, and expensive private schools.

 These neighborhoods are elbow to elbow with crumbling overcrowded slums for people who cannot afford typical Hong Kong rents, not to mention designer shops and overpriced schools.

Although this state of affairs is all too familiar to me having lived in America, the things missing are the anger and crime that accompany this gap between rich and poor, typical in the US. Anger and crime are just not culturally accepted here in the way they are in the US. I have yet to figure out why, but it has been a relief to escape them.

But poverty is ugly everywhere. And in a place like Hong Kong where the local people are, by and large, gentle, kind, welcoming, and tolerant, somehow, the poverty seems even uglier.

Alive and Well: Humor in Hong Kong

When I first arrived in Hong Kong, one of the things I noticed was that Chinese people didn't laugh at a lot of the things I thought were funny. In fact, although they smiled more often than me and most Westerners I know, they didn't seem to laugh much at all.

I began to explore one of my previously unacknowledged and therefore unexamined stereotypes about the Chinese, namely, that they are super serious and humor deprived.

A few months after my arrival, the local paper ran an article that compared the values of Americans with those of the Chinese. It noted that sense of humor is highly prized by Americans. To us it denotes intelligence and creativity. Although the Chinese appreciate a good sense of humor, it was not as highly prized and did not carry the same significance. Hmm, I thought. Being around people who are humor deprived-- by American standards-- didn't sound like a lot of fun. But then I wondered if this was really true? I mean, how could a group comprised of a billion plus people, many of whom live in very close proximity to one another, survive and even thrive without a good sense of humor?

Hong Kong is one of the most densely populated places on the planet. Yet it doesn't have anything that approaches the current theft and murder rates of cities in the U.S. Educated in the mythology of the West, I had always been told that dense population and crime went hand and hand. Yet clearly here, they do not. (And no, Hong Kong does not have the death penalty or people who disappear into police custody never to be seen or heard of again.)

It's true that the Chinese have a rough history full of war and chaos that stretches back centuries. Not too much to laugh about. Only recently have order and prosperity emerged and they are too new yet for the average Chinese to trust that they are permanent. Nonetheless, China is in bloom. The country has issues--many of them--but it is full of a vibrancy and optimism that jaded Westerners like me cannot appreciate until we actually come here.

Besides vibrancy and optimism, I have started to notice that the Chinese do laugh. A lot. Perhaps it's a matter of taking cultural blinders off and/or relaxing into a new way of being. Maybe people around me are relaxing, too. Or all of the above.

My friend Nat is teaching public speaking at an English language school for non-native speakers in Hong Kong. The school (not my friend) put out a flyer before his last workshop. It read, "At tonight's Public Speaking Seminar, you'll find your inner confidence and see that public speaking is no sweat. You'll realize that at networking functions, striking up a conversation is a dance that goes something like this:

A) "Hi..., nice to meet you, what's your name?"
B) "It's Linda, what's yours?"
A) "It's Dan."
B) "Nice to meet you, Dan. So what do you do?"
A) "I'm a salesman. Yourself?"
B) "I'm a clerk. What are you doing here tonight?"
A) "I'm trying to pick up some tips to help me get a promotion. How about you?"
B) "Oh, my manager told me tonight's speaker, Nat Hix, is fantastic and I'd be a fool to miss his seminar."A/B) "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."
A) Well we certainly are not fools then.

Not fools indeed. 

And not humor deprived, either. 

Goodbye, Joe

I saw Joe Costanza in front of Mrs. Field’s Cookies in the train station near my work. It was only for a moment but it was long enough for him to look at me, nod, and smile. Then he disappeared into the crowd.

That was in February. Joe had died in January.

I wasn’t surprised to see him. He always had a sweet tooth.

Joe was a remarkable friend: generous, kind, and funny. A gentle man, he had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what to say to defuse tense situations or to take the pain out of sad ones.  He was an empathic listener who loved people. 


A Parkinson's diagnosis made him even more eager to meet as many people as he possibly could. His cross country bike trip in July, 2010, shortly after his diagnosis, raised money for Parkinson's research. It was a testament to his love of people, generosity, and great strength of will. 

This past October, Joe and his wife Linda visited Hong Kong where I now live. The speed, noise, and crowds of the city were a bit overwhelming for Joe. He enjoyed the quieter island of Lantau where my husband and I reside. One day, we all travelled further south on Lantau to the sleepy fishing village of Tai O to see rare pink dolphins. We hopped aboard a small fishing/tour boat and sped out to open water. And there the dolphins were, waiting for us. Joe was delighted and grinned ear to ear like a big kid. The dolphins smiled back. All was right with the world that day.

Thanks, Joe, for the chance to share so many good times. There was so much laughter!

If I could be at his celebration of life in Wisconsin where this is being read to others by Linda,  we would sing That’s Amore. It was a song Joe, who was a great tenor, loved.  I invite all of you who are reading this now to sing it for a great paisano, Joe Costanza.  "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore..."

Enjoy your cookies, Joe. You earned ‘em.