u/Weary_Musician4872

Ik werk momenteel 4 dagen per week in loondienst als strategisch inkoper en heb ongeveer 10 jaar ervaring in inkoop, aanbestedingen en contractering.

Ik speel met het idee om mijn vrije dag te gebruiken voor zzp-opdrachten. Dus niet om volledig zelfstandig te worden, maar gewoon 1 dag per week naast mijn vaste baan. Volgens de regels van mijn werkgever mag dit, uiteraard zolang er geen belangenconflict ontstaat met mijn werkzaamheden in loondienst.

Ik denk dan bijvoorbeeld aan een inkoopstrategie, aanbesteding, sourcingvraagstuk of een ander redelijk afgebakend project.

Voor iemand met mijn ervaring lijkt een tarief van ongeveer €110-125 per uur excl. btw niet onrealistisch. Als ik bijvoorbeeld €120 per uur reken, 8 uur per week en ongeveer 46 weken per jaar werk, kom ik uit op ruim €44.000 omzet per jaar.

Na zakelijke kosten en belasting zou daar grofweg zo’n €1.500-1.750 netto per maand van over kunnen blijven. Dat vind ik toch behoorlijk veel voor één extra werkdag per week, terwijl ik wel gewoon de zekerheid en arbeidsvoorwaarden van mijn vaste baan behoud.

Ik haal met één dag per week natuurlijk het urencriterium niet, dus ik reken mezelf niet rijk met allerlei ondernemersaftrek. Er komen daarnaast natuurlijk nog boekhouding, verzekeringen en acquisitie bij kijken.

Mijn belangrijkste vraag is daarom: is één dag per week zzp in de praktijk überhaupt interessant voor opdrachtgevers?

Zijn er hier mensen in strategische inkoop, consultancy, projectmanagement of vergelijkbare functies die 4 dagen loondienst combineren met 1 dag zzp?

Is het financieel en praktisch de moeite waard, of blijkt zo’n constructie in werkelijkheid vooral lastig omdat opdrachtgevers minimaal 2-3 dagen beschikbaarheid willen?

The outrage about the FvD-affiliated school is revealing.

People suddenly seem horrified by the idea that taxpayers could fund a school built around an ideology they consider reactionary, socially divisive and hostile to liberal values.

Fine. I understand that concern. But then have the courage to apply the exact same standard to Islamic schools.

Islam is not somehow exempt from scrutiny because it is a religion rather than a political ideology. Traditional Islamic doctrine contains plenty of ideas that directly clash with modern Dutch liberal values: deeply conservative views on homosexuality, strict gender roles, religious authority, apostasy and the position of women.

Yet the Dutch state is willing to use public money to maintain schools organised explicitly around that religion. Why?

If your argument against an FvD school is that children should not grow up inside an ideological bubble where one particular worldview is treated as morally authoritative, then surely that argument applies at least as strongly to religious schools.

And no, saying this is not an attack on Muslims. Muslims are individuals and should have exactly the same rights as everyone else. It is criticism of an ideology and of a school system that allows taxpayers to finance ideological segregation.

I don't want an FvD school teaching children that Baudet's worldview is the truth.

I also don't want an Islamic school teaching children that a centuries-old religious doctrine is the truth. Nor do I particularly want Protestant, Catholic or any other religious schools doing it.

If parents want to raise their children as Muslim, Christian, conservative, socialist or whatever else, they are free to do so. But why should the taxpayer finance separate ideological environments for their children?

That is what the FvD school controversy should force us to confront. Either we genuinely believe in publicly funded ideological education, including for ideologies we find repulsive, or we admit that Article 23 is a historical relic and move towards secular public education where children from different backgrounds actually grow up together.

You cannot seriously argue that an FvD worldview is too backward for public funding while treating Islamic orthodoxy as untouchable simply because somebody attached the word "religion" to it.

The problem isn't that FvD found a loophole.

The problem is that the loophole has existed for more than a century.

I think something is missing from the endless discussion about why housing has become so difficult to afford.

Obviously the Netherlands has a genuine housing shortage. We have not built enough, population growth has been strong, planning is slow and the shortage is much higher than the level the government itself considers a balanced housing market.

But there is also a broader and more uncomfortable explanation: the Netherlands, like much of Western Europe, is becoming relatively poorer compared with the rest of the world.

That doesn't mean the Netherlands is becoming a poor country. Far from it. Dutch people are still extremely rich by global and historical standards.

The point is that we became accustomed to an extraordinary post-war period in which a relatively small group of Western countries dominated much of the world's wealth, production and consumption. Dutch people came to regard the living standards produced by that situation as normal.

A good house. Two incomes. Holidays abroad. A car. Eating out. Expensive hobbies. A huge amount of disposable income. And preferably buying a house in or near one of the most desirable cities in Europe.

But why should that automatically remain affordable forever?

Countries elsewhere are becoming richer and more productive. The Netherlands has to compete for labour, energy, raw materials, investment and goods in a much wealthier world than 40 or 50 years ago. Our relative advantage is shrinking.

Housing makes this especially visible because land and homes in the Netherlands are inherently scarce. We are a small, densely populated country with several economically successful cities and enormous demand for limited space.

There is also a strange expectation in Dutch housing discussions that a “normal” society means almost everyone should be able to buy a home.

Historically, that is not normal at all.

Before WWII, most Dutch people did not own their homes. Especially in Amsterdam, Rotterdam and other cities, ordinary working people overwhelmingly rented and often lived in housing conditions that we would now consider terrible. Mass home ownership is largely a post-war development.

That is not an argument for returning to those conditions. Of course the Netherlands should build much more housing, make planning easier and try to keep housing affordable.

But I do think our reference point has become distorted.

People compare themselves with Dutch boomers during perhaps the richest and most favourable few decades any ordinary population has experienced in human history, rather than with either the rest of the world or most of Dutch history.

So yes, the housing crisis is partly bad Dutch policy.

But perhaps another part of the anger comes from something much harder to fix: Dutch people are discovering that being born in the Netherlands no longer automatically guarantees the enormous economic advantage over the rest of the world that previous generations enjoyed.

We are still filthy rich.

We're just not quite as uniquely rich anymore.

I recently went to Veneur after seeing it receive an extremely high score in Het Parool — 9/10. For people who don’t read Dutch media: Het Parool is Amsterdam’s main local newspaper, so a review like that carries quite a bit of weight.

Our experience wasn’t remotely a 9. The food was good, but service was painfully slow, we regularly sat without wine for long periods, the wine pairing wasn’t particularly good, and even getting the bill took forever.

Of course one bad night proves absolutely nothing. Restaurants have off days, and critics can genuinely have a different experience.

But it made me wonder about something broader.

There is obviously a huge commercial value attached to a glowing review from a major newspaper, food magazine, influencer or guide. Restaurants spend serious money on PR, invite journalists and influencers, organise previews, offer free meals, and build relationships with people who can generate publicity.

So how independent is the restaurant-review ecosystem actually?

I’m not claiming Het Parool or its critic was paid to give Veneur a 9. I have no evidence of that. But I’m curious whether people working in Amsterdam hospitality or food media know how this world works behind the scenes.

Do professional critics normally visit completely anonymously and pay for everything themselves? Do restaurants know when critics are coming? Are PR agencies involved? Are there publications or influencers where positive coverage can effectively be bought?

And perhaps most importantly: do restaurants give recognised critics a noticeably different experience from ordinary customers?

Would genuinely love to hear from people who work in Amsterdam restaurants, PR or food journalism.

Suppose a neighbourhood gentrifies and homes start selling for €11,000–€12,000 per m². What does a housing corporation usually do when a social tenant leaves one of its properties there?

Do they keep renting the home as social housing to preserve a mixed neighbourhood? Or do they sometimes sell such a valuable property and use the proceeds to build several newer social homes in cheaper, newly developed areas?

From a purely financial perspective, selling one expensive apartment in Oud-West or De Pijp could potentially fund more social housing elsewhere. But that would also push lower-income residents out of the most desirable parts of Amsterdam and make these neighbourhoods even less mixed.

How do Amsterdam housing corporations actually make this decision and what do you think they should do: preserve social housing in expensive neighbourhoods, or maximise the total number of social homes across the city?

Wees eens eerlijk: hoeveel van je acht of negen uur ben je daadwerkelijk geconcentreerd en productief bezig?

Als ik om me heen kijk, bestaat een gemiddelde kantoordag voor een flink deel uit koffie halen, slap ouwehoeren met collega’s, uitgebreid lunchen, vergaderen zonder duidelijke uitkomst en een beetje naar het scherm staren. Misschien wordt er uiteindelijk vier à vijf uur echt gewerkt op een goede dag.

Soms vraag ik me af of kantoor niet gedeeltelijk gewoon volwassenendagopvang is: je hebt structuur, sociaal contact, iets te doen en hoeft niet de hele dag thuis met je man, vrouw of kinderen te zitten. Werk is natuurlijk meer dan alleen productie, maar we houden collectief wel de fictie in stand dat iedereen acht uur lang nuttig bezig is.

Dus: hoeveel uur werk jij op een normale werkdag écht? En wat doe je de rest van de tijd? Is dat verloren tijd, of hoort dat sociale en mentale geneuzel gewoon bij werk?

Amsterdam is one of the few municipalities in the Netherlands that genuinely seems to care about people in vulnerable situations on the streets. The city provides food, daytime and nighttime shelter, outreach, addiction support and help finding housing or new opportunities.

I’m proud of that. I like having a left-wing local government that tries to help vulnerable people instead of simply chasing them out of sight.

But respect works both ways.

Why should it be accepted that people rip open rubbish bags, empty street bins looking for cans and then leave food waste and rubbish scattered across the pavement? Residents have to live with it, sanitation workers have to clean it up and it contributes to Amsterdam’s rat problem.

I understand that life on the streets is complicated. Some people struggle with addiction or mental illness, some are undocumented and not everyone accepts or qualifies for the help that is available. But compassion cannot mean that all antisocial behaviour must simply be tolerated.

Amsterdam should continue offering generous support, but it should also be firmer about basic standards in public space. Add more bottle holders and proper collection points, continue outreach and offer alternatives but intervene when people repeatedly leave the street covered in rubbish.

A city can be humane without becoming completely permissive. When a municipality actually makes an effort to help you, is it really too much to expect some basic respect in return?

Ik zie hier regelmatig mensen praten over jaarruimte en maximaal fiscaal voordelig bijstorten voor hun pensioen. Maar ik snap eerlijk gezegd niet zo goed waarom dit voor werknemers met een goed werkgeverspensioen zo aantrekkelijk is.

Ik verdien ongeveer €100.000 per jaar en bouw via mijn werkgever al behoorlijk pensioen op. Waarom zou ik dan nu nog meer geld vastzetten waar ik waarschijnlijk pas ergens rond mijn zeventigste bij kan?

Natuurlijk krijg je nu belastingaftrek en betaal je later mogelijk een lager tarief. Maar daar staat tegenover dat je geld tientallen jaren geblokkeerd is. Je weet niet eens zeker hoe oud je wordt of hoe gezond en actief je tegen die tijd nog bent. Ik heb liever nu geld beschikbaar om te reizen, minder te werken, mijn huis te verbeteren of gewoon van het leven te genieten.

Daarnaast vraag ik me af hoeveel extra pensioen je later werkelijk nodig hebt. Tegen die tijd is je hypotheek hopelijk grotendeels of volledig afbetaald, zijn je maandlasten lager en hebben veel mensen mogelijk ook een erfenis of ander vermogen ontvangen. Heb je dan echt zoveel aan bijvoorbeeld €500 extra pensioen per maand, vergeleken met wat dat geld nu voor je kan betekenen?

Dus oprechte vragen aan mensen die hun jaarruimte wel maximaal benutten:

Krijgen jullie geen goed werkgeverspensioen? Hebben jullie eerst berekend dat er daadwerkelijk een pensioengat is? Of is het vooral aantrekkelijk omdat het belastingvoordeel nu zo groot lijkt?

Ik begrijp het bij zelfstandigen of mensen met weinig pensioenopbouw, maar bij goedverdienende werknemers voelt het voor mij vooral als veel geld opsluiten voor een levensfase waarin je het mogelijk minder hard nodig hebt.

It is genuinely getting tiring to see posts from people who want to move to the Netherlands mainly because Dutch salaries look high compared with those in their home country.

Yes, the salaries are higher. But so are the costs. Housing is extremely expensive, childcare is expensive, groceries are not cheap, and taxes take a considerable share of your income. A Dutch salary does not automatically give you a luxurious Dutch life.

I understand wanting a better future. The Netherlands is still a country with plenty of opportunities. But some things look much better from abroad than they actually are. Without secure housing and a realistic budget, moving here can become a financial disaster very quickly.

What also annoys me is the number of low-effort posts asking whether someone can live comfortably in Amsterdam on a random salary without mentioning rent, savings, family situation or lifestyle. Do people not research anything before planning an international move?

And no, simply arriving and expecting one ordinary 40-hour contract to immediately provide a large apartment, frequent holidays and substantial savings is not always realistic. Some people work evenings, weekends or multiple jobs to build a life here.

Come for the opportunities, but come prepared. Do not chase the gross salary figure and then act shocked when half of it disappears into rent and living costs.

Alcohol gets criticised so much that I just want to say: I’m genuinely grateful it exists.

I love that warm, rosy glow a few drinks can give an ordinary day. I’m also grateful that I can usually drink two or three pints, enjoy the buzz, and then simply stop. And occasionally I can have a proper bender, become a very happy drunk, dance, laugh, talk to everyone, and have a brilliant night without becoming aggressive, emotional, or looking for trouble.

Wine with food is also one of life’s greatest pleasures. A good red wine with dinner, cold white wine in the sun, champagne at a celebration, or a beer after a long day can make an already nice moment feel special.

Alcohol also makes me more tolerant of other people. Small annoyances stop mattering, strangers become more interesting, conversations flow more easily, and I become more affectionate and sociable. Obviously alcohol can cause serious problems for some people, and not everyone should drink, but for many of us it can genuinely add pleasure, connection, celebration, and colour to life.

I also dislike the idea that abstinence is somehow morally superior. Some religions and cultures prohibit alcohol completely, but being restrictive about harmless pleasure does not automatically make a society healthier, kinder, or more socially progressive. Not drinking is a perfectly valid choice. Acting as though everyone who enjoys alcohol is weak, sinful, or irresponsible is not.

So here’s to good wine with food, cold beers in the sun, slightly drunken conversations with strangers, joyful nights out, and knowing when you’ve had enough.

Cheers.

I used to think you had to leave the Netherlands during the main summer holiday period to have a proper summer. But honestly, staying here has become surprisingly great.

The weather is often ideal: warm enough to be outside, but usually not unbearably hot, with only the occasional rainy day. There are festivals, events, concerts, markets and local celebrations everywhere. We have beautiful beaches, great cities, nature areas and an incredible amount of culture within a relatively small country.

You can spend a day at the beach, visit a museum, go boating through a city or cycle through the countryside without travelling for hours. We also generally don’t have to worry about extreme heat, huge wildfires or spending an entire day at an airport just to reach somewhere overcrowded and even hotter.

Maybe it is just my perception, but summers here seem much better than they did 10–15 years ago. Back then, it often felt like you had to escape the grey and rainy Dutch weather. Nowadays, I’m increasingly wondering why I would go abroad during the busiest and most expensive weeks of the year.

I might genuinely stop taking my main holiday during the summer period and travel abroad in May or during the autumn holidays instead. Staying in the Netherlands in July and August is actually pretty underrated.

Does anyone else feel the same?

I’m a 33-year-old guy and I go to the gym two or three times a week. I follow a proper full-body program, track my lifts, use progressive overload, and spend no more than an hour there each time.

I’ve achieved what I wanted: I look more muscular instead of soft and fat, I’m stronger, and I know strength training will probably help me stay healthier and more capable as I get older.

But saying I enjoy it would be a lie. I hate going.

My gym is actually great. It’s clean, not too busy, nobody bothers me, and the workouts themselves aren’t especially complicated. I just spend the entire time wishing I didn’t have to be there.

I’ve done team sports before and found them much more enjoyable, but they didn’t give me the same results physically. I also notice that when I’m consistently going to the gym, I have much less desire to drink alcohol, which is another big positive.

So how do people deal with this? Do you eventually learn to enjoy it, or do you simply accept that it’s a chore you have to keep doing for the rest of your life?

Am I destined to be a reluctant slave to the gym forever?

I’m a 33-year-old guy and I go to the gym two or three times a week. I follow a proper full-body program, track my lifts, use progressive overload, and spend no more than an hour there each time.

I’ve achieved what I wanted: I look more muscular instead of soft and fat, I’m stronger, and I know strength training will probably help me stay healthier and more capable as I get older.

But saying I enjoy it would be a lie. I hate going.

My gym is actually great. It’s clean, not too busy, nobody bothers me, and the workouts themselves aren’t especially complicated. I just spend the entire time wishing I didn’t have to be there.

I’ve done team sports before and found them much more enjoyable, but they didn’t give me the same results physically.

I also notice that when I’m consistently going to the gym, I have much less desire to drink alcohol, which is another big positive.

So how do people deal with this? Do you simply accept that it’s a chore you have to keep doing for the rest of your life?

Am I destined to be a reluctant slave to the gym forever?

This is obviously a massive generalisation, but whenever I compare the British and Dutch versions of First Dates, the difference is massive.

On the British version, even the unsuccessful dates are usually entertaining. The contestants often have unusual jobs, strange hobbies, dramatic life stories, strong opinions, quick humour, self-deprecation and actual banter. They flirt, tease each other, tell embarrassing stories and are generally willing to make themselves look a bit foolish. You often get the impression that they existed as fully formed human beings before they entered the restaurant.

Then I watch First Dates Nederland, and half the contestants seem to have been selected from the same village Facebook group.

Their personality is usually something like: “I’m very social, I love gezelligheid, I enjoy going out for drinks with friends, and family is really important to me.” Their hobbies are travelling, festivals, the gym, terraces and “doing fun things.” The date then consists of twenty minutes of questions such as:

“What do you do for work?” “Do you have brothers or sisters?” “Where do you live?” “What are you looking for in a relationship?” “Would you like children?”

There is often no humour, no playful tension, no curiosity and no real sense of what makes either person distinctive. It feels less like watching two people flirt and more like watching two regional account managers conduct a polite intake meeting over a glass of sauvignon blanc.

And it is not even that Dutch people are naturally quiet or shy. Plenty of Dutch people are loud, funny, eccentric and opinionated. Yet the programme somehow repeatedly finds the safest, blandest, most conventionally “nice” contestants imaginable: people from small towns who still spend every weekend with the same friendship group they formed at secondary school, describe themselves as “a little crazy sometimes,” and consider ordering a special beer instead of Heineken to be a personality trait.

The British version also seems much more comfortable casting people who are genuinely odd, awkward, camp, chaotic, intense or socially unconventional. The Dutch version appears terrified of anyone who might be too strange, too funny, too intellectual, too outspoken or simply too memorable. Everyone has to be presentable, relatable and completely harmless. So what causes the difference?

Are British people simply better at storytelling, banter and performing their personality in front of strangers? Is Dutch dating culture genuinely more direct, practical and interview-like? Is it the editing? Or does the Dutch production team deliberately cast extremely safe “regular people” because they think the average viewer mainly wants to see someone from Brabant explain that trust and communication are important in a relationship?

I am genuinely curious whether other people have noticed this. The British version often feels like a programme about interesting people who happen to be dating. The Dutch version feels like a programme about people who are dating because being single is the only remotely interesting thing about them.

What started as a documentary about four old Amsterdam penoze mates somehow turned into something much bigger.

Yes, they've done terrible things, spent time in prison, drank themselves into oblivion and made plenty of bad choices. But underneath all of that it's really a film about loyalty, ageing, friendship and a version of Amsterdam that barely seems to exist anymore.

The city itself almost feels like another character. The old cafés, the streets, the people... it made me wonder how much of that old working-class Amsterdam is still around, or whether it's mostly been replaced by tourists, expats and new developments.

Curious what others thought. Did it make you nostalgic? Sad? Or did you mainly see four guys who never managed to escape the life they chose?

Also, is the follow-up 25 Jaar Foute Vrienden worth watching?

Hoe ouder ik word, hoe meer ik denk dat "Een eigen huis, een plek onder de zon" misschien wel één van de meest rake Nederlandse songteksten is.

Niet vanwege de waarde van een huis, de overwaarde of het idee dat je "geslaagd" bent. Maar gewoon om iets veel simpelers.

Is er namelijk echt iets dat op een zonnige zondagmiddag opweegt tegen in je eigen tuin zitten met een koud biertje? Beetje vogels horen, ergens in de buurt ruikt iemand een barbecue, geen verplichtingen en gewoon het gevoel dat dit jouw eigen plekje is.

Ik merk dat ik dat soort kleine momenten steeds meer waardeer dan allerlei dure spullen of uitjes.

Wat vinden jullie? Is er iets dat voor jullie boven zo'n simpele zondagmiddag in je eigen tuin uitkomt, of had René Froger stiekem gewoon een punt?

I've been wandering through the centre a few times this week, different days, different times. Somewhere along the canals, across Dam, through the Jordaan, past Leidseplein. Every time I expected to hit that familiar wall of people that makes you wonder why you came into town in the first place.

It never happened?

It's not empty. Far from it. There are tourists taking photos of canals that have been there for centuries, rental bikes zigzagging through traffic, the occasional bachelor party already louder than necessary. Amsterdam is still Amsterdam.

But for the start of the summer holidays, it feels strangely... manageable.

Maybe I've simply recalibrated. After living here for a while, what used to feel overwhelming now just feels like a normal Thursday. Or maybe something really has shifted. Higher travel costs, people spreading out across the city, different holiday patters, I don't know.

I'm mostly curious whether this is just my own perception. Has anyone else had the same feeling this week, or am I remembering previous summers as busier than they actually were?

The Netherlands will play Morocco in the World Cup Round of 32 on Tuesday night, with kick-off at 03:00 Amsterdam time.

I live in Amsterdam and I’m genuinely curious what people here expect. Because of the late kick-off, any celebrations or frustration would be deep into the night / early morning, which might make the atmosphere different from previous tournament matches.

Do you think Amsterdam will stay relatively calm, or are people expecting issues in certain areas if the Netherlands wins or loses? I remember that after some previous Morocco matches there were reports of celebrations that in a few places escalated into fireworks, vandalism or confrontations with police.

Would you avoid specific areas after the match, or is this mostly hype?