It has been quite a while, I know, but I had to allocate the past month to catching up with some aspects of life that were neglected after the elections. Remember, no news is good news, and thanks for asking.
After a good four months of stasis at work, it was time to get back into the race and make up for lost time. For those of us who do not have anyone close killed on the streets, jailed, or currently attending university, life in Tehran has started to resemble the hustle it used to be. Once again, we are flurrying around and trying to make a living, albeit plagued with the daily disquiet of a diseased system.
I say “resemble” because although we go to work as usual, curse the other drivers in traffic jams, go on trips and get together for dinner, some things have changed, and I don’t mean just the economy. Everybody is already despairing about the economy. Many businesses in the private sector that do have work are only finishing up with old contracts. New ones are barely being signed. The owner of a large manufacturing company told me recently that they have halted their production line (which is unprecedented in their history), and have laid off 60% of their workforce. “If we manage to sell our inventory by year’s end and pay off some of our debt, I’d be cracking walnuts with my tail”, he said.
Throw in some daily bad news, bouts of despair, occasional roadblocks, and a few new concerns and responsibilities and you’ll see why “normal” is still “different”. Believe me, making a living, partaking in a velvet revolution and waging war against God at the same time can be very trying. You’d think that fighting Allah would be the most difficult of them – rally your troops, draw up the plans, siege his castle and in one instant he snaps his fingers and sends you back to the drawing board – but no, making a living is worse.
You see, I would really like to have my own apartment here in Tehran, and I work hard for it. According to my calculations, I only have another 204 years to go before I can move into my decently-sized, decently-located flat. To simplify the calculation, imagine that I miraculously manage to save $200 a month out of an above-the-poverty-line income drawn at $700. And let’s not argue over whether the inflation rate is 15% or 25%. We will ignore it instead, as the headaches we need to go through to battle inflation will only neutralize it at best. This is how Mahmoud likes it as well. We’ll give him another one too: home prices shall not rise for the next two centuries. Fair? Maybe not, but the situation is hopeless either way.
I said decent in size and place, which translates into 500 Ks of the good USDs, or a 150 square-meter apartment in a nice neighborhood. They go for a little over $3000 per square meter. You think this is high? What if I told you I just paid $15 for two espressos and a slice of cheesecake at a joint that didn’t have seating? Luxury? Okay, how about $43 for yogurt, 2 chunks of strange Iranian Gouda, four small bags of potato chips, two packs of cigarettes, two 1-liter bottles of soda, a pack of instant coffee, six bottles of water, eight large batteries, some pickles, fruit juice and bread?
Five hundred thousand dollars is okay for your own apartment. Some of those are going for eight million. I’ll give you a tour on your next trip.
I didn’t say I was modest, but for the sake of this post, I’ll tone it down to 120 square meters for $3000. That’s as low as I’ll go. And now the best part: this has to be paid for in cash. There are loans, but even if I were the elder son of a Haaj Agha, I would manage to get about $20K, and that’s after a year of killing myself over it. What fool would lend me more with that shopping item and this income? I can also trade in one kidney for a square meter, which leaves me to pay the rest to the owner with a check from my own money. So, save $200 a month for 150 years and bingo.
I can chop more of my wants and needs and go for only a hundred square meters at $2000 each, or ninety for $1800, but I’d still be a rat spinning a mesh wheel. Prices have reached absurd levels to the point that it is soon worth it for every Iranian to move out of the country, go to London and live off the same income. I’m not whining, and I know many have it worse. I just meant to say I’ll be working less now. Better to wage war against God.