Tesz-Vesz World Order
A View from the Pavement: An Economist-style Essay on Everyday Professions for Young Adults (With a Stiff Upper Lip and a Nod to Richard Scarry)
In the grand machinery of civil society, not everyone need be a banker in the City or a coder for Silicon Roundabout. In fact, the very foundations of Britain—and indeed any functioning nation—are propped up not by hedge funds or tech startups, but by the brisk, bustling, and sometimes tea-sipping multitude of everyday professions. These are the vocations rarely celebrated in glossy brochures or Netflix docuseries, but without which the postie wouldn’t post, the bins wouldn’t be collected, and the fires wouldn’t be put out. It is, in short, Tesz-Vesz World: a world of cheerful doers and steady stewards, rendered delightfully anthropomorphic by Richard Scarry and faithfully dull (though essential) by reality.
Let us begin, as one must in Britain, with public service. The nurse, clad in sensible shoes and quiet heroism, navigates wards and human fragility with calm efficiency. Her close cousin, the paramedic, answers the 999 call before most of us have reached for the kettle. The firefighter—no longer just a brawny figure with a hose but a skilled rescuer and chemical-response technician—remains one of the few universally admired roles in an age of scepticism.
In Tesz-Vesz terms, these roles are the bread-and-butter professions—Doctor Lion, Fireman Fox, Nurse Nellie, and Police Sergeant Murphy—stalwarts of the town square, unglamorous yet adored. These characters reflect our real counterparts in Croydon or Cardiff, who deal with traffic, policy cuts, and the odd goose attack rather than cartoon hijinks.
But the Tesz-Vesz economy doesn’t run on emergency services alone. Consider the quiet dignity of the postal worker, braving wind and terraced stairs to deliver catalogues and connection. Or the bin lorry crew, whose weekly rituals keep chaos (and foxes) at bay. There is, too, the oft-overlooked road sweeper, traffic warden, and librarian—guardians of order in a world hurtling toward entropy and TikTok.
This is the adult world, dear reader. Not the curated LinkedIn feeds of globe-trotting consultants, but the clock-punchers and uniform-wearers: the bus driver who waves at other drivers with an unspoken camaraderie; the train conductor whose announcements are half-lullaby, half-command; the ticket inspector who offers both legitimacy and mild dread. One must also tip one’s trilby to the teacher, chalk-wielding or otherwise, who endures bureaucracy and adolescent sarcasm to prepare the next generation of workers who will almost certainly ignore advice.
From construction workers to crossing guards (or “lollipop ladies” as we so fondly call them), Tesz-Vesz society spins thanks to those whose routines form the rhythms of a nation. The grocer, the butcher, the mechanic, the post office clerk, and the council gardener—together they perform the secular liturgy of the working week. They clock in and out, brave weather and the public, and still find time for a bacon bap on the A-road lay-by.
Now, you may ask: what does this have to do with you, a fresh-faced young adult ready to enter “the real world” (a term so ominous it might as well wear a cloak)? Everything. Because before you chase job titles ending in “-preneur,” it is vital to understand that a nation, like a good sandwich, depends on all its layers. While the mayonnaise of entrepreneurship gets the attention, it is the meat and bread of everyday labour that makes it worth eating.
To choose one of these vocations—be it school lunch chef, warehouse operator, or civil service administrator—is not to settle, but to build. These are not fallback options; they are the very bones of society. And like Richard Scarry’s Busy Town, Britain works best when everyone—from bakers to bridge painters, vets to village clerks, seamstresses, seafarers, and streetlamp fixers—has a role, a rhythm, and a well-earned cup of tea.
So, as you step into adult life, remember: being useful beats being famous. And no matter your career path, someone still has to drive the milk float.
Welcome to Tesz-Vesz World Order. Now get to work.
INTEL KARTEL 