He showed up at my door in mid-June. He said he was from the Statistics Centre-Abu Dhabi (Scad), and he was wondering if I’d take part in a survey they were running. He sat at my table, opened his briefcase, gave me instructions and left me with an invoice pad for writing down my expenses each day.
This would be for the centre’s 2013-14 Household Income and Expenditure Survey, in which scores of people are tracking their dirhams to create a snapshot of the emirate’s economy from the micro level. It began last October and runs a full year.
By taking part, in my own small way I was now contributing to Abu Dhabi’s development; or at least to its statistical underpinnings. The experience intrigued me. Perhaps it would offer insight into how the country and its economy work; at the very least, it would be an easy seminar in my personal finances.
Alas, after the man with the invoice pads left, I promptly forgot about writing down my expenses each day. On June 28, I remembered. A few days later, someone from Scad phoned, to remind me to begin recording my expenses for one month starting on July 1.
They tricked me! I hadn’t been late; in fact I was early. Scad’s supervision impressed me, and not for the last time would their oversight make up for one of mine. Indeed it would become apparent that the most uncontrollable variable in gathering statistics surely must be the human element.
My contributions to local prosperity were on some days meagre.
Wednesday, July 9:
12 dirhams, Taxi
20 dirhams, Lunch
Other days my consumption was less inconspicuous.
Saturday, July 5:
110 dirhams, Car rental
61 dirhams, Gas
740 dirhams, Pillows
395 dirhams, Hotel
225 dirhams, Dinner
I had figured that the process would be simple: I fill out the invoices each day, and at month’s end someone pops by to gather them. But that was not how it worked.Indeed, Scad’s attentions would reach the point where it seemed as if they felt a near maternal concern for my daily routine.
During my first week as a statistic, a man from Scad phoned me to say they would be picking up my initial batch of invoices at the end of Week One. A canvasser came to my door (not the original Scad envoy) and went over my paperwork. Most of my items checked out, but gasoline he amended to “petrol”.
But he had missed something. On July 6, I had written down Dh117 for groceries, but neglected to detail what exactly was in my Carrefour bags.
The next day a Scad man phoned me (and imagine the scads of resources they are pouring into this effort, where I am but one tiny respondent and am beseeched by a different Scadman every time). He wanted me to be more specific.
“Groceries, you need to say what they are,” he said.
“Fruits, vegetables,” he suggested.
“Peanut butter,” I said.
“Fruits, vegetables,” he said.
“Peanut butter,” I said.
“Fruits, vegetables,” he said.
“Peanut butter,” I said.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
This standoff was turning into a hostage drama, so I did the only sensible thing.
“Fruits, vegetables,” I said.
“Yes!” he said.
“Peanut butter,” I said. “Chocolate chips. Cheese. Whipped cream. Cookies.”
I was making a pie (the cookies, digestives, were for the crust).
After that, when I bought groceries, I wrote down what I had bought, for example on July 11:
152 dirhams
Groceries (milk, chicken, bananas, onion, nuts, cheese, cereal)
The canvasser’s next visit was on July 14, at 10.40pm (long hours!). I had forgotten he was coming and had to scramble out of the tub. So there I was in my blue bathrobe, and he in his tan pants, blue dress shirt and burgundy vest with reflective strips on the shoulders and Scad logo on the lapel.
He went through my latest invoices.
He got to the day with the groceries.
Next time, he said, I should give each item its own line.
He got to July 12, a low point on the graph. It had but one entry: “36 dirhams Coffee.”
“No food?” he inquired.
“Ate at home.”
He seemed dismayed.
“No Carrefour?” he said.
“I’ll try to buy more this week,” I said.
Incrementally we improve; so it was with my answers, so it might be with my food habits. Optimism is possible in even small things. On July 24 I was out with friends when Scad rang me at 10.43pm: seriously, “22.43” on my Nokia. It was noisy where I was but it seemed that Scad wanted to give me a present for participating and wished to arrange a time for delivery. The word “vellum” was audible. We agreed that after Eid would be best.
It turned out that what I had misheard as vellum was either “volume” or “value”, because my lovely parting gift was an Entertainer booklet full of two-for-one coupons for everything from Jones the Grocer to the Dubai Dolphinarium. And not just coupons, but a certificate of appreciation that said I had contributed to the success of the survey “through your close cooperation and the accurate figures you submitted”.
I thanked the canvasser.
“Thank you too much,” he replied and parted with a salute. Really, a salute.
The upshot of this is that I was impressed by the diligence Scad applied to the survey. My own efforts, less impressive. Still: the system works. I was counted upon, and so I counted.
Rob Mckenzie is an assistant business editor at The National.
