written by Anna Liza V.B.
Executive Writer/ Editor at large
As I ordered a meal recently, I was
surprised to have learned prices of combo meals from a leading fast-food chain
in the Philippines, have increased.
The usual
breakfast budget of Php 250.00 about three years ago, used to buy at least
three (3) meals, which were already good for three individuals.
More than three
years into the pandemic uncertainty, the prices of food have significantly
changed. And a regular mom like me can now feel the numbers.
Bound with
restrictions at the early stage of the new normal down to the loosening up of
COVID-19 restrictions, it cannot be
denied that COVID-19 affected our local economy.
The situation may
not always squeal and shout in the headlines, but once you take out your day-to-day
wallet, what’s left can be, just like the pandemic, uncertainty.
Beyond the worrying
numbers acting like counters on a website, posted daily by the Department of Health
over social media Facebook, and on popular social media sites regarding the many
lives affected, lost, or vaccines wasted,
it is the food-at-the-table that concerns a mom like me the most.
A fast-food meal
would usually cost Php 220-350 depending on one’s budget. This is enough to spare a mom from the
morning troubles of going through the hassles of food preparation while you go
hungry waiting, and preparing for other work or house duties.
This may no
longer be afforded by an ordinary stay-at-home mom, with a slim budget.
The high costs
of food are undeniable.
Even if a mom
listens to all the optimistic talk points that the economy is improving, the
prospects for employment and having a salary that can meet the demands and
challenges of the pandemic are stale to none.
With no
employment prospects around for an ordinary housewife, and perhaps plenty of
moms can mouth this, what are moms left to do?
“Be a
work-from-home” mom can be a catchy slogan, resounded by the government during
the early stage of the pandemic when work-from-home arrangements were recommended;
but it is a fainted promise that was never delivered.
If a meal a day
can only accommodate one full meal for a kid, and a half for the mom, what is
left for the working dads?
At this point,
mounting unemployment is not only surreal but very real.
After a year of
staying with a company, a multi-national company, working dad A (here is an actual scenario), has been relieved
from employment due to a “shady” reason of attendance.
The company did
not give a release paper or a termination paper but rather chose to announce
the loss of the job to working dad A, verbally and in person.
It was a tough
struggle for this worker to have fought for his position given the pandemic
restrictions. The long overtime and obligatory
out-of-town reporting demanded much not just from him, but from his family. At a time of multi-level pandemic quarantine
regulations and stringent stay-at-home measures.
But this same
worker, despite a mean effort to attend his work obligations including the
expected online meetings, cannot hold on to the job, despite the almost
abstract reasons for losing it.
Meanwhile, a mom
like me had to contend with finding work online, without any reward of being
fulfilled.
If a meal
would cost 250 for an ordinary decent meal, and multiply it into three, then an
ordinary spend would cost around Php 750.00 (roughly USD 15.00 if the dollar
exchange rate against the Philippine peso would revert back to Php 50.00 is to 1
USD.
And a Php750
food expense cannot be met by an ordinary worker’s salary if we are to follow
the minimum salary requirement for Metro Manila (NCR) or city laborers, which
is pegged around
Php 500- 533.00 Philippine peso
(source: National Wages and Productivity
Commission, www.nwpc.dole.gov.ph).
These apply to retail or services sector and to the manufacturing industry.
To an ordinary
seller/mom, which has been the fallback option for many working moms who have
been displaced by the pandemic; and including the regular stay-at-home moms, a
“hustle” or a sideline to “up” the income, is also less encouraging.
Three years ago,
many concept stores opened up their doors to micro-entrepreneurs and even
sellers, begun accepting micro-merchants.
These are small-scale entrepreneurs who pay shelves for a fraction of hefty
rental rates which is a trademark of big commercial spaces and establishments
that are in the leasing business.
The almost dirt-cheap
rates to be a micro-renter through online advertisements and announcements from
reputable groups, seem to be an offer too good to pass up; until one realizes the
cost of maintaining a “shelf” or a boutique space is, still expensive even at
its dismal phase during the COVID-19 pandemic. Yes, frustrating to an incoming entrepreneur, despite the much bragged about lower lease
rates.
An ordinary seller
would have to spend Php 500-Php 1000 for the smallest shelf, month rates peg.
While a much more ambitious or aggressive lessor can get the Php 5,000-Php
7,500 a month, almost the price of a full-size commercial space.
Without the guarantee of foot traffic and profits, new merchants would bite into the offer,
just to strive during the pandemic and keep things at bay.
A seller may
pass up on a month of no-profit, despite the expense. But when the pages of the
calendar are counted and torn, to say 3 months up to six months, and the sales
report submitted would not be enough to pay the shelf rent, an ordinary seller,
can actually pass up and simply give up.
And these lack of
sales and high rates of keeping even a shelf space, are mirrored not just in
one city but in many locations around the country.
Boutique owners
seem to have been relegated to the pandemic sales drought. Realistically, it is the face masks and the
essentials that sell. But stores cannot simply live on selling face masks and
face shields alone, because merchants offer a variety of products and items.
And that’s the nature of the local businesses.
If a seller
chose to skip the traditional space and go out on location, say bazaar sites,
the spend counter would even be more costly.
An events
organizer or bazaar organizer usually tips the scale of this high-cost
reality, as they offer bazaar rates of a minimum of Php 4,000 per three days;
Pho 6,000 to 12,000 for the more upscale location bazaars, and even way up to
Php 6,000 per day bazaar which can total to Php 18,000 for three days.
And these rates
are already cost-preventive.
If many workers are
laughing their way into many online stores to get the brands they get from the
hunky, chunky salary they front online, the ordinary older moms would have to
contend with fewer prospects for earning.
Even if
entrepreneurs poise for a duck position during sales losses, there cannot be a
turning back once investments and expenses were made by the entrepreneur.
Government
regulations on businesses are tipsy for the regular, well-connected payors; strict on the newcomers; and “bureaucratic” to
those with penalties to settle. This situation further restricts the earning
prospects of a seller whether online or in an actual physical store.
In Laguna,
reports of sales staff being harassed, or incidences of robbery are reported
during the pandemic. Without validation due to the store’s location and COVID-19
restrictions, a seller or micro-merchant, would have to accept the very abrupt
explanation.
It doesn’t
require, after all, verbal prowess, to convince a boutique owner or shelf
retailer that a merchant or seller needs
to recoup an investment or expense as part of the business expectations.
(To
be continued)
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