Marx's most important theoretical contribution is his sharp distinction between the social division and the technical or economic division of labour. That is, some forms of labor co-operation are due purely to technical necessity, but others are purely a result of a social control function related to a class and status hierarchy. If these two divisions are conflated, it might appear as though the existing division of labour is technically inevitable and immutable, rather than (in good part) socially constructed and influenced by power relationships.

It may be, for example, that it is technically necessary that both pleasant and unpleasant jobs must be done by a group of people. But from that fact alone, it does not follow that any particular person must do any particular (pleasant or unpleasant) job. If particular people get to do the unpleasant jobs and others the pleasant jobs, this cannot be explained by technical necessity; it is a socially made decision, which could be made using a variety of different criteria.


Basically Girls knit, sew and cook and boys drill, build and cook (if it necessitates using cool gadgets). 


At least that's how I interpret Karl Marx's theory of the division of labour. Oooo, this is going to get me in so much trouble with Mrs Mike!


You see what Karl's theorem doesn't take into account, and God knows that I am no Sociologist (I can't even spell it with out Spellcheck despite having an 'Ology in the subject), is the definition of pleasant and unpleasant jobs. For this is where his theorem completely breaks down. You only then need to add in the emotive issue of the differences between the sexes in their out look to life and frankly my dear you can flush his whole theorem down the pointless toilet of over analytical reasoning.




WHAT am I wittering on about? Not sure really. It's just that, well women seem to enjoy different things to guys, or put another way a job that a Guy finds boring (ergo unpleasant) a woman will enjoy and vis~versa. 


I have been doing the tiling in the new bathroom. I've been smashing the old tiles off the wall, carefully measuring  and screwing batons of wood to the wall so as to make a spirit level base for the positioning of the new tiles. Then getting my 'manly' power tool, a diamond wet tile cutter, out to grind the tiles with much noise and spitting of water (from the machine, not me), then the laying of the, hopefully, precision cut tiles to the wall. Ending up with a neat vertical sheet of shiny, glossy wall tiles, ahhhhhh bliss.


Alison, however, has no aspiration, need or urge to do any such thing. That's not to say she doesn't do tiling, nor do I suggest that she cannot do tiling, simply that it doesn't light her fire. In short she does not find pleasure in the task and is therefore far more happy to leave it to me.  So in the division of labour, I get the tiling.


On the other side of the coin whilst I admire and totally understand the skill and work that goes into making curtains, the operation of doing so would bore me to death. I would find the whole task wearingly dull, so much so that I would never get to finish it as my mind would wander and cause me to put the task in hand down and go find some wall to drill into.


Men, in general, are driven deep down inside by an urge to use power tools. Sure there are sewing machines and food processors, but blokes need something more to keep our poor concentration engaged. The plumber and I had a long conversation about a sonic saw that he had with him and I'm sorry but that conversation was not one that most women would have been interested in. Of my friends and relations, there are some of you out there (and you know who you are) that are the exception to the rule but for the most part having to use a sonic saw to cut a groove into a floor board, would have no interest other than "Oh, we have to use one of these do we? How do I do it?" And that would be it.


I am often accused by the women in this house (in which I am out numbered) of not listening and forgetting things when having been told once or twice already, or sometimes thrice! But that is somewhat not my fault as it seems just boring trivia at the time, well up to the point that I miss the appointment that has now fallen out of the boring trivia and dropped with a 'plonk' into the "rather a matter of urgency" category. And closely followed by "Why the hell didn't you remind me???" status.


You see the Sexes are more a different species than simply a different gender. We, guys, generally view life with a 'what's in it for me' out-look, whilst Women have a far more pragmatic approach with a mothering instinct 'He's got to get to the appointment so how am I going to plan his schedule for him'.


You'd never see a guy nag a woman about her missing an appointment, he just couldn't give a toss, UNLESS there was something in it for him. 




Painting, to most men, is to be taken in stages. We like to start by preparing the surface, rubbing down the old paint, cleaning off the dust that the sandpaper has created then hoovering it totally clean and filling the small cracks and holes, giving the filler time to dry. Then meticulously laying masking tape to protect and to give an utterly straight edge, getting the paint opened we ensure that the paint is thoroughly stirred to within an ounce of it's life, then choosing the most appropriate brush (having covered the floor against drips we commence at a slow and cautious pace.




Females (well the ones in this house anyway) tend to make an instant decision, right we'll paint this next, grab a brush open the paint and slap it on, wondering why the carpet gets stained and the paint ends up with an edge to it like an old woman's lips after she put on her make up whilst on a 747 in turbulence. 


Then they have completed the job and it is clear up time. So the lid is rested on top of the paint pot, there is a reluctance to push it fully down because of the amount of paint that has been continually scrapped from the brushes which had been heavily overloaded and as a consequence even the handles of the brushes have been liberally covered in the paint. So the lid cannot be pushed fully down without getting paint all over their hands and the paint is left to form an unwelcome scum which we [the guys] can look forward to discovering at a later stage.  
    The brushes are washed appropriately (white spirit or water) and left to dry, only they're not, it is too boring to thoroughly wash them and a layer of paint (or varnish, er-hem Claire) is left to dry ensuring that the brush is as stiff as a bog brush when it is next required. Don't get me wrong guys are lazy and would do the same if it wasn't for the 'what's in it for me' syndrome because the odds are that the next time that paint pot is opened or the brush required for painting, it will be the guy that needs to use it. 


Now you may read into today's blog some anti-woman agenda and this is so definitely NOT the point. I am frankly and candidly demonstrating that women are from Venice and men are from Manchester.


Men are appalling at planning and frequently drive our women to distraction that they will be late because the guys are just finishing a task that they should never have started, clearly would not be able to finish and then get huffy as if they never knew that they had to be leaving home at that time.
     Men only go to the supermarket at weekends, never plan to have a pound for the trolley, take control of the trolley throughout the journey around the store and select all the items that the supermarket has used psychology to encourage idiots and children to buy! We become like kids at the fair, spinning the trolley around on it's own axis simply because it is a challenge and even better if we have a small child in the seat AND it is just after lunch.


There are clearly many exceptions to these many stereotypes, but be honest, you know that the basic principle is true. How many men out there (singles not included) can honestly say, as part of Marx's division of labour of unpleasant jobs, that THEY fairly share the cleaning of the toilet pan, indeed when they have ever actually cleaned it.


AND....


How many women out there (singles not included) can honestly say when they last mowed the lawn.


There seems to me to be a very clear division of labour between the genders and I offer no conclusion to this observation only the hope that the tolerance each side has for the foybles of the opposite sex is long lived or else we are all doomed and the very fabric of society itself will implode.



Mikes thought for the day..............








References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Division_of_labour











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