In my long term quest to become a curmudgeon worth talking to there are certain milestones hat signal progress. I have just realized that I have already passed one of these milestones.
The milestone in question is the classic, "things didn't cost as much in my day!"
It is impossible for anyone who wishes to enjoy life to constantly update the full repertoire of our knowledge of pricing, and so we tend to develop a rough guide. Most of us know that a gallon of milk is closer to $5 than $15, but few of us know how much it is to the dime. It is extremely hard to change one's understanding of the price of goods in the gaps between actually purchasing the goods. As I have said before, the environment in which humans largely evolved was, in comparison with today, extremely static The value of a tool was simply the value of that tool for someone's entire (probably short) life. The increase in the price of items is not something that is naturally understood by most people.
Prices go up, and they go up almost constantly, and actually quite consistently since about 1970. This doesn't mean that everyone keeps getting poorer (actually, over the forty year period I mentioned above it's slightly the other way) because income increases as well. What it all comes down to is the terrifying subtlety of compound interest. You barely notice a 3% change in prices year-to-year, but you multiply that 3% over a while and the change is huge. Prices double about every twenty years. For me, twenty years ago was 1993, and that's when I really started working properly and taking care of myself entirely. That is the point where my basic understanding of prices started.
I have just noticed that I find almost everything shockingly expensive. $7 for a Big Mac Meal? I remember when it passed the $3 mark (when I actually ate them). $50 jeans? I remember when Gap jeans were cool AND cost $30. I go grocery shopping, and while I understand that I am shopping for two, and I buy nicer things than when I worked on a direct care workers wage, I still spend more than four times as much each visit. While I have thought of myself as rich, after all our income is such a bigger number than we have had before, it still seems that we should be getting further than we are.
What I am now trying to do is recalibrate all of my price and wage intuitions with updated information, simply based on a rough 20 year/double amount basis. I am not sure that will make me feel substantially less rich, but it will remove a fair amount of my frustration at what things cost.
My first full time job paid me $16,400 a year. Now that would be about $30,000. I was not well off but I could afford a used car, an apartment, food, and um cheap beer for entertainment. At the time $30,000 would have been easy-street. So, I have to understand that $20,000 a year is poor (for the USA), and $100,000 is not obscenely wealthy but rather upper-middle class. The most money I ever made was $30,000, roughly ten years ago. That would have been the equivalent of $23,000 in 1993 and $40,000 today. That was a really good wage for social work, about twice the official poverty line.
The upshot of all of this is that either everything costs twice as much as it should, or my wife makes half as much as I thought.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Comparisons
I am not someone who knee-jerks a requirement for two sides to every story. Sometimes there is a story and some people who are idiotically yelling in the face of facts. To a large extent this is what cable news shows are. Sometimes things are very complicated and you can only tell parts of the story in any given setting, like history, or psychology. However, there are times when adding the other part of the story is useful.
It has seemingly come to the attention of many people that there are some very, very rich people. These people are so rich that they can't even spend all their money. A person with the relatively tiny income of $1;000,000 a year has to spend more than $2,500 a day just to not break even. Given a life expectancy of 100 years someone with one tenth of a billion dollars would have to find ways to spend that $2,500 every day for their entire life or get even richer. At last count, there are 442 people at least ten times richer than that in the USA. There are people so rich that it is almost impossible for them not to get more rich.
Furthermore, these very rich people have power based on this money and can use that power to change the system so that it is easier for them to make more money. You know what? They do that. As a result these super-rich have been getting super-richier, particularly since Reagan.
Meanwhile, the income of your regular Janets has largely stagnated and so the gap between the very rich and the poor has grown larger. Janet thinks this unfair and has furrowed her brow and is considering whether, maybe, if this keeps up, she might do something about it. Maybe she'll write a blog post about it, or share outrage with her facebook friends. Meanwhile Janet's weird cousin is building a bunker and stashing an enormous horde of weaponry, but that's a different story.
OK, some people being so rich they can't even spend their money and others being so poor they need help to eat is a bad situation that should be fixed. Pretty much everyone I know thinks this is basically true and is outraged about the situation.
On the other hand...
In Rwanda the GDP per person (nominal) is $730 a year. Now, because there are some richer people in Rwanda, most people there will have fewer resources than that. 90% of Rwandans are subsistence farmers. 25% of Rwandans don't have a clean water supply. I think/hope you get the picture.
We have got to the point where there are three groups. The nefarious super-rich, us, the deeply poor. We seem to spend most of our time concentrating our attention, outrage, frustration, etc. on the differences between us and the super-rich. I ask you, which is really the biggest difference, the one between us and the super-rich or between us and the super-poor? I hope you got that one right.
In my opinion the inequality that exists in the world is more about us and the really poor than between we rich people and people who really are very rich indeed. When was the last time you heard about how unfair that was? When was the last time you thought about that? Have you thought that what would be really important in politics would be some redistribution of wealth from the USA to Rwanda. For some perspective, the GDP of Rwanda is about three times the US National Parks budget.
The next part that we (and I certainly include myself) tend to do is come up with a whole list of reasons, excuses, and distractions to stop ourselves from sending three quarters of our money to Rwanda. None of us are going to do it, let's be honest about that. But isn't this what the super-rich do as well? The sponging under-class of lazy layabouts throwing away their money on drugs meme is pretty much just that.
I am not saying that there isn't a huge, unnecessary, unfair inequality of wealth in the USA and that this hurts people every day. I am not saying that you are an evil person unless you give away all of your money. For Christ's sake we aren't Jesus! Matthew 19:21. I am just saying that we should spend at least as much of our time looking down as looking up.
In fact, looking down tells us for what we should be grateful. Noticing the things that should make us grateful makes us happier. It also can lead us to give to those less fortunate, and giving makes us more happy.
It has seemingly come to the attention of many people that there are some very, very rich people. These people are so rich that they can't even spend all their money. A person with the relatively tiny income of $1;000,000 a year has to spend more than $2,500 a day just to not break even. Given a life expectancy of 100 years someone with one tenth of a billion dollars would have to find ways to spend that $2,500 every day for their entire life or get even richer. At last count, there are 442 people at least ten times richer than that in the USA. There are people so rich that it is almost impossible for them not to get more rich.
Furthermore, these very rich people have power based on this money and can use that power to change the system so that it is easier for them to make more money. You know what? They do that. As a result these super-rich have been getting super-richier, particularly since Reagan.
Meanwhile, the income of your regular Janets has largely stagnated and so the gap between the very rich and the poor has grown larger. Janet thinks this unfair and has furrowed her brow and is considering whether, maybe, if this keeps up, she might do something about it. Maybe she'll write a blog post about it, or share outrage with her facebook friends. Meanwhile Janet's weird cousin is building a bunker and stashing an enormous horde of weaponry, but that's a different story.
OK, some people being so rich they can't even spend their money and others being so poor they need help to eat is a bad situation that should be fixed. Pretty much everyone I know thinks this is basically true and is outraged about the situation.
On the other hand...
In Rwanda the GDP per person (nominal) is $730 a year. Now, because there are some richer people in Rwanda, most people there will have fewer resources than that. 90% of Rwandans are subsistence farmers. 25% of Rwandans don't have a clean water supply. I think/hope you get the picture.
We have got to the point where there are three groups. The nefarious super-rich, us, the deeply poor. We seem to spend most of our time concentrating our attention, outrage, frustration, etc. on the differences between us and the super-rich. I ask you, which is really the biggest difference, the one between us and the super-rich or between us and the super-poor? I hope you got that one right.
In my opinion the inequality that exists in the world is more about us and the really poor than between we rich people and people who really are very rich indeed. When was the last time you heard about how unfair that was? When was the last time you thought about that? Have you thought that what would be really important in politics would be some redistribution of wealth from the USA to Rwanda. For some perspective, the GDP of Rwanda is about three times the US National Parks budget.
The next part that we (and I certainly include myself) tend to do is come up with a whole list of reasons, excuses, and distractions to stop ourselves from sending three quarters of our money to Rwanda. None of us are going to do it, let's be honest about that. But isn't this what the super-rich do as well? The sponging under-class of lazy layabouts throwing away their money on drugs meme is pretty much just that.
I am not saying that there isn't a huge, unnecessary, unfair inequality of wealth in the USA and that this hurts people every day. I am not saying that you are an evil person unless you give away all of your money. For Christ's sake we aren't Jesus! Matthew 19:21. I am just saying that we should spend at least as much of our time looking down as looking up.
In fact, looking down tells us for what we should be grateful. Noticing the things that should make us grateful makes us happier. It also can lead us to give to those less fortunate, and giving makes us more happy.
Chapter 15
It had been sunny and dry at some time in the past. Although that was probably today it seemed like an eternity. The rain had reached a level of malevolence to which words like, "poured" and "fell" no longer were relevant. Then there was the mud. The mud clutched, and grabbed at boots like a horde of starving beggars. In the lashing rain and the thick mud falls were inevitable, and upon arising the men would discover that the mud was stuck to them like plaster, and as time went on the mud insinuated itself through each cranny and crevice of clothing.
Heavy, wet, cloying, stinking, foul, slow, gritty, dark misery.
Ughrit was not happy. The Inn was apparently always, "just a little further." Ughrit had finished with, "just a little further" and was now more interested in "dry and extremely violent." He wrenched his vast boot out of the mud and splashed it shortly ahead, lightning flashed. A titanic boom filled the heavens. Ughrit slipped and fell face-first into the mire.
"Bugger fuck damn stupid prick fart onion-eating motherpoking rotten shit shit shit ass!"
"A light!" came a call, "up on that hill I saw lantern light."
All thoughts of swift, sloppy homicide left the exhausted mind of Ughrit and he desperately clambered to his feet, fell, writhed on the ground, swore, got to his feet again, swore some more, trudged a few yards, slipped, gathered himself, felt a stream of something organic slip into his armpit, trudged, slipped, pulled a muscle in his lower back, swore..........
Some long, long time later Ughrit stood before a door. A door from which the sound of merriment flowed. A golden glow of lantern light spilled out through a couple of windows. When the lightning lit up the world there was a sense of some vast, shambling structure behind the door, but more than that it was impossible to tell. The crew was dragging themselves along behind him, sometimes quite literally. Ughrit took out his massive axe, threw open the door and stepped in. Another titanic lightning flash seared the eyes of everyone outside, momentarily blinding the straggling trail of brigands.
Within The Addled Prophet all eyes turned to the doorway. There stood a massive figure, all in black, back-lit by the sky's fury, and emphasized by a huge, deep crash and rumble. Ughrit stepped through the doorway into warmth, light, and dryness. He was tired and miserable, but he was here to do something. He started to raise his axe when a weird looking man exclaimed, "Oh! You poor man, out there in this miserable weather. Landlord, do you think we might find this gentleman some hot water and some towels."
Ughrit was ushered to a chair near the fire in the inevitable manner brought on by considerate bustling. Ughrit could not have imagined fighting against the well-meaning little man at that moment. he sat down, leant back on his chair and simply absorbed the warmth of the fire. An unfamiliar lassitude came over his limbs and his mind slowed and relaxed. He realized that he was in a nice, little pub surrounded by people who welcomed him. A pint was pressed into his hand and he realized that this was his dream. Just this simple little moment was his dream.
The rest of the crew blundered in, singly or in pairs. While they lackadaisically brandished weapons, and yelled some uninspired battle cries, cut off suddenly, within moments they were welcomed, and brought to the fire. After a while their weapons started forming a haphazard pile in a corner, they had rare smiles on their faces, and soon some of them found themselves actually saying, "Thank you!"
Perhaps an hour later the tall and slender figure of Akhbar crawled over the doorstep. Akhbar was not an athlete. He expected blood, smashed furniture, possibly sobbing. He heard cheering, and then applause? Applause? Pushing himself up on to his knees he scanned the room and found Ughrit and the crew intermixed with what seemed to be happy patrons. Akhbar began to feel a deep sense of peace, an acceptance of his situation, a welcoming. Fearing that this could only be a magical trap set to capture or kill Ughrit and his men, Akhbar fled out into the night, desperate to get himself away from the peace, the warmth, the welcome.
Heavy, wet, cloying, stinking, foul, slow, gritty, dark misery.
Ughrit was not happy. The Inn was apparently always, "just a little further." Ughrit had finished with, "just a little further" and was now more interested in "dry and extremely violent." He wrenched his vast boot out of the mud and splashed it shortly ahead, lightning flashed. A titanic boom filled the heavens. Ughrit slipped and fell face-first into the mire.
"Bugger fuck damn stupid prick fart onion-eating motherpoking rotten shit shit shit ass!"
"A light!" came a call, "up on that hill I saw lantern light."
All thoughts of swift, sloppy homicide left the exhausted mind of Ughrit and he desperately clambered to his feet, fell, writhed on the ground, swore, got to his feet again, swore some more, trudged a few yards, slipped, gathered himself, felt a stream of something organic slip into his armpit, trudged, slipped, pulled a muscle in his lower back, swore..........
Some long, long time later Ughrit stood before a door. A door from which the sound of merriment flowed. A golden glow of lantern light spilled out through a couple of windows. When the lightning lit up the world there was a sense of some vast, shambling structure behind the door, but more than that it was impossible to tell. The crew was dragging themselves along behind him, sometimes quite literally. Ughrit took out his massive axe, threw open the door and stepped in. Another titanic lightning flash seared the eyes of everyone outside, momentarily blinding the straggling trail of brigands.
Within The Addled Prophet all eyes turned to the doorway. There stood a massive figure, all in black, back-lit by the sky's fury, and emphasized by a huge, deep crash and rumble. Ughrit stepped through the doorway into warmth, light, and dryness. He was tired and miserable, but he was here to do something. He started to raise his axe when a weird looking man exclaimed, "Oh! You poor man, out there in this miserable weather. Landlord, do you think we might find this gentleman some hot water and some towels."
Ughrit was ushered to a chair near the fire in the inevitable manner brought on by considerate bustling. Ughrit could not have imagined fighting against the well-meaning little man at that moment. he sat down, leant back on his chair and simply absorbed the warmth of the fire. An unfamiliar lassitude came over his limbs and his mind slowed and relaxed. He realized that he was in a nice, little pub surrounded by people who welcomed him. A pint was pressed into his hand and he realized that this was his dream. Just this simple little moment was his dream.
The rest of the crew blundered in, singly or in pairs. While they lackadaisically brandished weapons, and yelled some uninspired battle cries, cut off suddenly, within moments they were welcomed, and brought to the fire. After a while their weapons started forming a haphazard pile in a corner, they had rare smiles on their faces, and soon some of them found themselves actually saying, "Thank you!"
Perhaps an hour later the tall and slender figure of Akhbar crawled over the doorstep. Akhbar was not an athlete. He expected blood, smashed furniture, possibly sobbing. He heard cheering, and then applause? Applause? Pushing himself up on to his knees he scanned the room and found Ughrit and the crew intermixed with what seemed to be happy patrons. Akhbar began to feel a deep sense of peace, an acceptance of his situation, a welcoming. Fearing that this could only be a magical trap set to capture or kill Ughrit and his men, Akhbar fled out into the night, desperate to get himself away from the peace, the warmth, the welcome.
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