Murphy’s Law is most often stated this way: “If something can go wrong, it will.” Some people take their Murphy’s seriously. There are studies which have tried to prove whether Murphy’s has basis in fact. Well, duh. This is the way Bertha states Murphy’s. There are at least 50 ways to get something wrong and only one way to get it right. So mathematically it’s a wonder anything ever comes out right. Maybe it doesn’t, and we just don’t know it.
When you stop to think about it, Murphy has just about got life explained. Every law governing or trying to unravel life as we know it pretty much falls into a sub-category of Murphy’s.
I want to propose a variation on Murphy’s. We can call it Bertha’s Byword. If someone already has a patent on it, I didn’t know, okay?
It goes like this: If you had two choices, you will invariably wish you had made the other one.
For example—say you have a Saturday afternoon in the late fall when the chores are done and you have some money. (That in and of itself is a set of circumstances that ought to make you extremely wary.)
You also have some friends going skiing and some more friends going to catch the college football game. Don’t mess it up now. These are two pretty good choices.
So if you choose skiing, the chair lift will be broken (best-case scenario,) and additionally, your team will pass for 300 yards and win by 35 points.
Conversely, if you choose football…the scenario could get really bad here. Just how many ways are there for a football game to go wrong?
Turning to the business arena, I was one of those investors who put money into Putnam Group instead of Wal-Mart. You can already guess how that turned out. If I had done it the other way around, I probably could have averted the global economic crisis.
Which brings me to my other real-life story. My daughter and her husband own a reception center in Logan. It has a really nice audio system which sounds great, but it doesn’t have a piano. After three brides in a row had asked about a piano and someone else had wanted to book the facilities for an upscale piano recital, they started looking for a piano. A friend helped them find just the right instrument. It was a gloss black Steinway baby grand which was going for a good price. The good price was $26,000.
So they thought long and hard about that purchase. (My son-in-law as well lives by Bertha’s Byword. He didn’t patent it though.) Would they really book that many more receptions with the piano in the big room? Their friend assured them that they could rent it out for rehearsals at $150 an hour to piano students from the university. So that helped tip the scale. They bought the piano last week. The piano dealer would arrange the financing.
And so the Baby was delivered. They couldn’t wait for the next walk-through. The bride would probably book on the spot.
The next three brides to walk through the facility glowered when they saw the piano.
“Is that piano going to be there? It takes up too much room. I have 18 people in my line. Is there a place to move it to?” From then on, my daughter who weighs 121 pounds, began trying to stand in front of the piano in an effort to hide it.
Well, just like the masked rider on the white horse, the global economic crisis (which I was a little bit glad I didn’t avert) comes to the rescue. Who would have thought? The piano dealer called this week to say that he would have to come and get the piano because he couldn’t get financing for it.
On a Saturday afternoon when I have a choice, I sometimes have a seat to watch a few downs of football on TV (which is about as close to a college game as I ever get) instead of doing the other thing which probably involves some kind of housework. Every time I sit down, my team fumbles the ball. I never get to watch them win until the reruns, and even then I worry.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Double Bubble in the money bin
I guess if I don’t write something about the economic crisis the country is going through I will be the only person anywhere to remain silent on the subject. However, I doubt this will be my only chance. The subject might be relevant for quite a while.
The stock market is “roller-coastering” and who knows when it will settle. Credit has gone somewhere, don’t ask me where. Congress is too busy passing bucks to be passing bills. And the “00s will likely be remembered most for the “great government bail-out.”
All in all, the horizon looks a little bleak. To lighten the mood, and since the whole crisis is about the “flow of cash,” I want to tell you about how my kids learned their first lessons in economics.
The legal tender among our children was chewing gum. If you had it you were rich. If you didn’t you were always trying to get “the government” you give you some.
In our house, the war-to-end-all-wars was fought over chewing gum. We had staff meetings to legislate rules for the proper use and control of the substance.
The components of the modern-day tragedy were two children and one stick of gum. Taking a piece without asking carried penalties usually reserved for horse thieves.
Each child had a well-secured money bin, not for money, but for chewing gum which was traded on the market something like this:
“Will you go upstairs and get my book bag?”
“How much will you pay me?”
“I’ll give you a stick of gum.”
“Only one piece? No way.” (Don’t try to get something for nothing.)
“Then I’ll give you a whole pack on Friday.” (Paying later makes things cost more.)
“Okay, then, I want a ten-pack of strawberry bubble gum.” (Everything has it’s price.)
The traditional form of lending with interest was practiced too.
“Do you have a piece of gum?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have one?”
“Only if you pay me two back, or three if it takes too long.” (Interest never sleeps.)
Just to show you the regard our kids had for gum, I’ll tell you a story my daughter told me. She said that her best friend had walked all the way to town—about 12 blocks—to buy a pack of gum.
“Ha, ha, ha; she could have walked to the convenience store, but she walked all the way to town. She could have saved four blocks.” (If you work hard enough, you’ll get rich.)
“Yuk, yuk, yuk. That was so dumb.”
I’ll tell you about dumb. Only a gum-greedy capitalist would walk beyond the next room for a stick of the stuff. My daughter didn’t think that it was strange to walk a long way for a pack of gum. She only thought it was strange to walk farther than necessary.
Like the medium of exchange that most people use, gum tends to be unpredictable, and it has a destructive side. (Keep your legal tender in a safe place.)
The similarities end there because it doesn’t slip through your fingers. In fact, once used, it is non-biodegradable and indestructible, and you can’t get rid of it.
If gum gets where it doesn’t belong, you will have to live with it. And so will your children and your children’s children. (Be careful what you want, you may get it.)
Your children will inherit the piece that is stuck to the brass bedpost. Your nephew might end up with the gob that’s under the dining room table, which by the way will be free.
Real money, once you use it just sort of moves around the marketplace and isn’t really used up. This past week would be the exception. But no matter which kind of green you value—neither the most conscientious environmentalist nor the greediest capitalist wants to recycle chewing gum.
The stock market is “roller-coastering” and who knows when it will settle. Credit has gone somewhere, don’t ask me where. Congress is too busy passing bucks to be passing bills. And the “00s will likely be remembered most for the “great government bail-out.”
All in all, the horizon looks a little bleak. To lighten the mood, and since the whole crisis is about the “flow of cash,” I want to tell you about how my kids learned their first lessons in economics.
The legal tender among our children was chewing gum. If you had it you were rich. If you didn’t you were always trying to get “the government” you give you some.
In our house, the war-to-end-all-wars was fought over chewing gum. We had staff meetings to legislate rules for the proper use and control of the substance.
The components of the modern-day tragedy were two children and one stick of gum. Taking a piece without asking carried penalties usually reserved for horse thieves.
Each child had a well-secured money bin, not for money, but for chewing gum which was traded on the market something like this:
“Will you go upstairs and get my book bag?”
“How much will you pay me?”
“I’ll give you a stick of gum.”
“Only one piece? No way.” (Don’t try to get something for nothing.)
“Then I’ll give you a whole pack on Friday.” (Paying later makes things cost more.)
“Okay, then, I want a ten-pack of strawberry bubble gum.” (Everything has it’s price.)
The traditional form of lending with interest was practiced too.
“Do you have a piece of gum?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have one?”
“Only if you pay me two back, or three if it takes too long.” (Interest never sleeps.)
Just to show you the regard our kids had for gum, I’ll tell you a story my daughter told me. She said that her best friend had walked all the way to town—about 12 blocks—to buy a pack of gum.
“Ha, ha, ha; she could have walked to the convenience store, but she walked all the way to town. She could have saved four blocks.” (If you work hard enough, you’ll get rich.)
“Yuk, yuk, yuk. That was so dumb.”
I’ll tell you about dumb. Only a gum-greedy capitalist would walk beyond the next room for a stick of the stuff. My daughter didn’t think that it was strange to walk a long way for a pack of gum. She only thought it was strange to walk farther than necessary.
Like the medium of exchange that most people use, gum tends to be unpredictable, and it has a destructive side. (Keep your legal tender in a safe place.)
The similarities end there because it doesn’t slip through your fingers. In fact, once used, it is non-biodegradable and indestructible, and you can’t get rid of it.
If gum gets where it doesn’t belong, you will have to live with it. And so will your children and your children’s children. (Be careful what you want, you may get it.)
Your children will inherit the piece that is stuck to the brass bedpost. Your nephew might end up with the gob that’s under the dining room table, which by the way will be free.
Real money, once you use it just sort of moves around the marketplace and isn’t really used up. This past week would be the exception. But no matter which kind of green you value—neither the most conscientious environmentalist nor the greediest capitalist wants to recycle chewing gum.
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