The Hidden Economy of Love

The Hidden Economy Of Love A series in 3 Parts by Jonathon Crane

The Hidden Economy of Love

Part 1 Share-houses, break-ups and popular music (Uncovering the accountant in all of us) So raise your hand if you have ever lived in a share house. We all know what it’s like. If you don't, just refer independent to John Birmingham's Diedbecause with a we Felafel in his Hand,” a favourite of every university "He student can all relate- yes, things like that actually happen! Well, about a year ago I found myself in a new situation. Now I'm no amateur to this game; this was my sixth share house in over 8 years. I was pretty seasoned - I thought I'd seen it all, but here was something new: A north shore apartmen t with three professional males all aged between 25 and 30, all single. It was a harsh environment. There was no time for a communal meal or even some televis ion. We were all too busy trying to take the next step up the corporate ladder or pursuing our taxing exterior social lives. Doing anything for "mutual benefit" was a loser's game - It was every man for himself. Pleasant morning exchange s were dispensed with in place of things like "Why I am always the one who is bringing in the mail?" or "Why am I the one who is always taking out the garbage?" which would be met with very defensive replies like "What ? I took it out the last two times! I haven't got time for this, I'm late for work!" It was a dog eat dog world, and no one wanted to be the smaller dog. As for me, I was trying to do my fair share. I'm the kind of guy who doesn't mind doing the dishes, so if I've just cooked dinner and there are a few other plates lying around, I don't mind doing them, and while I'm at it, I may as well wipe the benches and sweep the floor too. I don't mind if I'm the only one doing this kind of thing for a night, or two, or three or… hang on, a whole week! Come on, somebody else has to at least put in a little bit of effort! And not only that - if I had just a few items of washing, no one was chucking them into their load. If I had run out of milk, no one was very keen on giving me some of theirs. I was just about to crack. Returning tired from work one night, I made my resolution: the next time someone accused me of something, ("Jono, you keep leaving your cereal boxes out the back, and I'm not picking them up!") I was going to give it to them. ("Well I'm not cleaning up your shit anymore ! I've cleaned up the kitchen every night for the last week!") But when I opened the door, the usually grungy entrance looked immaculate - all the floors had been vacuumed and the bathroom and toilet had been scrubbed clean. (A task I personally loathe). All my simmering anger suddenly diffus ed. And why? It was as if this one large piece of housework had in an instant made up for the numerous littl e pieces of work I had accrued throug hout the week. But what was I doing, evaluating and equating the worth of different pieces of housework? Was I some kind of crazy housework bean counter? 1

The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 1

At around the same time as the whole bachelor-ho use-from-hell thing, I started to notice something else. It seemed like one of those phases of my life. Three of my good friends (and I) had just broken up long-term relationships. As it happens, in all of the situations I had become friends both the guy and the girl. So of course, now they were all turning to me (as if I was an unbiased 3rd party mediator) demanding to know what went wrong. I can vividly remem ber being amazed at the dedication one girl had to helping her boyfriend with his final-year university assignment. On the night before it was due, as she sat furiously sewing in the middle of a floor strewn with half-finished garments, I remarked, "Wow, that's pret ty nice of you. Why are you doing all that for him?" She just smiled a huge smile and with beaming eyes said something like, "Oh, it's really nothing". A few months later I saw her drunk in a nightclub - shouting into my ear with slurred speech she listed absolutely everything that she had ever done for him (she actually counted them off on her fingers) and how not one of these times had he ever done anything for her. I had no idea she had been keeping track of everything - and I suspect neither did she. Then there were the phone calls. What do you say to a distraught friend who's just had half of their life walk out on them? Of course they only want you to listen, but the male instinct is to try and solve the problem. I started saying the normal things like "you have to be more careful who you love" and "you can't give your love to just anyone". Apart sounding like a Michael Jackson song, I realised my advice started to mirror that of a financial consultant. I might as well have said something like: "You have to invest your love more wisely - it's no good throwing it all away on the first thing that looks good. Always make sure you are getting positive returns . Look for a good dividend and room for growth in the future". And then later, after they had cheered up a bit, sniffing and raising a smile through tears, they would say something like, "Well thank god I've still got friends like you, thanks for listening," which would make me feel all warm and fuzzy, but made the demented financial advisor in the back of my head want to say something like, "Yes, you see how it pays to have a diversified portfolio - you can't put all your eggs in one basket". Things started to get a bit scary from here: I saw the hidden economy of love in action everywhere I looked. In every situation, normal people would morph before my eyes to become the most diligent social bean-count ers: My mates at the pub grumbling about the guy who miraculously seems to forget his wallet every time it’s his shout. People annoy ed in their cars becaus e someone didn't follow the 'one for one' rule when two lanes were merging. Everyone was counting, everyone was keeping tabs, all watching for discrepancies on the bottom line. I turned on the radio to try and distract myself - bad idea! It seems a high proportion of pop song lyrics are laments over social accounting mistakes, misjudgements or, dare I say it, crimes.

2


Blu Cantrell certain ly feels infidelity is an offence that demands a hefty bail when she sings "Hit 'Em Up Style": While he was scheming I was beamin’ in the Beamer just beamin’ Can't believe that I caught my man cheatin' So I found another way to make him pay for it all In fact the 'other way' is by credit card - yep, times are certain ly moving fast in this day and age, where penance for social crimes can be paid electronically. Justin Timberlake prefers the simple tactic of exclusion to even out the emotional balance books in "Cry me a river": You told me you loved me Why did you leave me, all alone? Now you tell me you need me When you call me, on the phone Girl I refuse, you must have me confused With some other guy Your bridges were burned, and now it's your turn to cry Cry me a river But the most direct advice comes from Jean Knight in her funk classic "Mr Big Stuff" where she sings: I'd rather give my love to a poor guy that has a love that's true Than to be fooled around and get hurt by you 'Cause when I give my love, I want love in return Now, I know this is a lesson, Mr. Big Stuff, you haven't learned That's right Jean - we always should be looking for good returns when we invest our money, oh I mean love. So next time one of your best friend breaks up or your flatmate starts in on you, take a look at the balance sheet and the bottom line - maybe by tweaking the figures here and there you can make things even out, or at least look a little brighter - certainly in the case of the break up, a positive prospectus will help if they ever consider listing publicly again. Rarely will things be so desperate that you need to file for bankruptcy, and in that case, you can always turn on the radio.

3


Part 2 The guide to finding free love (Also where to find cheap love, and not so cheap love) It was a cold and rainy winter’s night. One of those nights where it’s dark even before you leave work. Opening my apartment door, I instinctively looked to the little light on the telephone answe ring machine. Is it? No, no... it’s definitely not flashing. No one called for me. My flatmates aren’t home yet – they’re probably out with workmates again. That’s cool – I’ll just put on some dinner and check my e-mail. As the familiar sound of the computer booting faded into the background, I became excited at the possibility of new messages in my inbox. Maybe Sarah who I met at the pub last week replied to my email – she seemed like such a nice girl. But hotmail’s bright and cheerful welcome screen only held disappointment: “You have 0 unread messages.” Exhausted, I threw myself down on the couch. I guess I’ll just watch some TV. Several hours later, loud laughter awoke me from my slumber. My flatmate and his girlfriend burst through the door. “Hey Jono! Oh, shhh – I think he’s asleep.” Through half shut eyes I could see the smiles on their faces as they stumbled, giggling, down the hallway . It was difficult to get to sleep again after that – the apartment had thin walls and the sounds they made didn’t leave much to the imagination. It had been more than six months since I’d had a girlfriend. I shook my head to try and clear my sleep-addled thoug hts. I felt a bit feverish. Love. God, that’s what I needed – but where was I going to find it? If only making love was as straightforward as making money, I’d be set. But hang on. The penny dropped: people are counting love like they count money (see Part 1), maybe if I find out where money comes from, I can also find out where love comes from. Then, happiness, laughter and good times will be mine, all mine! I sat up off the couch and began to think. Now I’m no economics doctorate, but it seemed like there are three things people exploit in order to make money: First is the earth. Mining companies are the most crude and basic example. They dig up the ground, take out anything valuable and sell it on at an inflated price. It’s a low grade, high volume proce ss – you have to sort through a lot of dirt to find just a few specks of valuable rock . To make any kind of money you have to run a huge operation. Next are the animals and plants. Farmers are a good example here. A cattle farmer fattens the animals up for the price of a few bales of hay and then sells to the public for the price of an eye fillet steak. Altho ugh not on the scale of a mining operation, 4


here again, you need to exploit a lot of cattle in order to make a decent amount of money. The real money, however, comes from exploiting our fellow human beings. The most celebrated example is that of the sneaker sweats hops: we pay people in third world countries $2 a year to sit in a factory and make thousands of pairs of shoes that we sell for more than a year’s salary each. But you may be more familiar with examples closer to home. instance, the small business whose paid peanuts compa red to For the salary of their Managing Director. Inemployees the case ofget humans, the raw material of exploitation is skilled (as opposed to rocks and cattle), and this means the size of the operation becomes less important. You can make incredible amounts of money with just a small number of people. From down the hall came the sound of smashing glass – probably the lamp I lent to my flatmate two weeks ago. He hadn’t bothered to return it yet. There was a moment of silence which was then broken by hysterical laughter. The sound seemed to snap me out of a daze. The slight fever I had seemed to be clearing, or was it getting worse? I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. I thought I was on to something. As the laughter died down to be replaced again by soft whispering, I closed my eyes and lay back down on the couch. Retracing my thoughts, it seemed clear that you could make love in exactly the same places that you make money… The first kind of ‘love’ can be made from the earth. Have you ever walked to the top of a mountain, looked down and seen things laid out in front of you? The valleys, the rivers, the tiny houses and the ocean in the distance. The sun is shining and the world seems beautiful. Suddenly you forget the fact that none of your friends returned your calls this week and that only half the people you invited to your birthday party actually turne d up. Somehow you’ve gotten a kind of love or good feeling from the earth, just by looking at a scene of natural beauty. But, as with mining (to make money off the earth), this is a fairly low-grad e love – it doesn’t last a long time and you have to do a lot of bushwalking for a relatively small return. A higher-grad e love can be obtained from the animals and plants. The best example of this is man’s best friend. Forge t walking up hills. For the price of a few tins of Pal per week, a dog can provide years of love and affection. Every time you walk through your door, there is someone who is always happy to see you, tail wagging, jumping up and down. It makes you feel great for a little while, but don’t expect flowers or anything special when it’s your birthday. As with making money from a cattle farm, if you want to make a living this way, you’ ll need to run a fairly big operation. The old lady with a house full of cats might be able to get by, but the average person with a blue heeler on the back porch is going to be struggling to survive unless you have some other means of income. If you really want to be rolling in the love, you’ve got to get where the action is. A loud groan issued forth from the room at the end of the hallway. No one could be 5


expected to sleep through such a racket. I pulled the pillow over my ears to try and block out the sound… What was I thinking about? Oh yes, the last place you can find some love. Other people. Now, I’m not going to start with relations hips between adults . Pulling a love-profit off your peers is something I would prefer to leave to the recruitment consultants. But there are some people we have no qualms in exploiting for all the love we can get: children. Yes, if you really are in need of bucketloads of love, just have a couple of kids – it will do wonders for your balance sheet. They’ll entertain you with songs and dance. When you go out in public they will earn you status with their youthful looks and joyful spirits. They’ll make you laugh when they get upset over the smallest things . They’ll make you cry with joy when they say “mama” or “dada” for the first time. Granted, they do take a bit more management than domest ic animals, but their returns are unmatchable. And what’s more, this is smart love – if you’re lucky, one day the kid might even remember your birthday and buy you a present… that’s a hard trick to teach a dog! Suddenly everything went quiet. The frantic cries had stopped and it seemed like the plaster was, thankfully, still attached to the ceiling. I thought things over again – money, the earth, animals and plants, people. Love. Love, yes, that’s what I needed, free love. Well, it’s not so hard to find. Yeah, you’ve just got to be prepared to do a little bushwalking. The house seemed tranq uil now; there was only the sound of soft rain on the roof as I drifted off to sleep. Several streets away a dog barked.

6


Part 3 The global love crisis Christmas time. So called season of giving. I knew what it took to be happy – giving, huh! That was for suckers. Time to make good on my emotional balance sheet. I knew everyone was counting (see part 1). Left that job – they wouldn’t miss me anyway. Left that house – wasn’t going to stick around for emotional slavery. Didn’t want kids or a dog yet, so it was time to do some bushwalking (see part 2). Yeah, out on the road. Around Australia and further… not only were the views spectacular, but you wouldn’t believe the kindness that gets heaped on a traveller by complete strangers… like an untapped gold mine, always good for a few smiles and some general interest – even if it doesn’t go too far. By my records I was doing fine. People wanted to talk to me and I hardly had to lift a finger… ahead of the game I was. Indonesia, Malaysia – record profits all the way. Thailand a bitdestinations funny. The lifestyle section in theofnewspaper wasn’t talking about hipwas holiday or the latest darling the art world, it was a feature with the title: “giving without the expectation of receiving”. Huh? Now that didn’t really fit with the theory. How were they going to pull a love profit with that philosophy? Buddhists… it would be like David Jones dispensed with their cash registers and ran on an honesty system. But the people there were insistent – I tried to explain why they were opening themselves to rampant exploitation (like vast uranium deposits lying in a remote Australian desert – just there for the taking!)… but without solid proof that love was like money, I was lost. And now this, Christmas time. Back in a Christian country with corporations doing their best to exploit western society’s deepest anxiety: “if I forget someone, they might stop loving me!” I was no exception – I wanted to have a healthy prospectus for the new year and that meant shoring up profitable relationships with friends and family that had been neglected with months of travel. Fighting through queues of rabid department store shoppers I took a break and checked my email. Email makes form letters easy, so now most of my friends have become like small companies - sending standard Christmas greetings to an email list that is 10 times longer than the message itself – yeah don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you either: . But hiding amongst all of these I caught a glimpse of something else. Although my anti-spam measures were set to the absolute maximum, it somehow managed to weasel its way through to my inbox. With an unassuming subject line it read as follows:

7


The Value of a Smile at Christmas It costs nothing, but creates much. It enriches those who receive, without impoverishing those who give. It happens in a flash and the memory of it sometimes lasts forever. None so rich they can get along without it, and one so poor but are richer for its are benefits. It creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in a business, and is the countersign of friends. It is rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and Nature’s best antidote for trouble. Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that is no earthly good to anybody till it is given away. And if in the last-minute rush of Christmas buying some of our salespeople should be too tired to give you a smile, may we ask you to leave one of yours? For nobody needs a smile so much as those who have none left to give! My grip tightened on the mouse as I read the last line… at last I had what I needed: solid proof! With a light reading it seemed like a harmless little passage that almost everyone identifies with. But I wonder if the anonymous author was aware of what trouble it would cause Buddhist nations like Thailand, Laos and Myanmar. Yes, everyone knows a smile costs nothing. But likewise, everyone has been in a situation where they are “too tired to give” a smile, or they have “none left to give”. But hang on, how can you ever be too tired to give a smile? – they don’t ‘cost’ anything right? Blood rushed as my mind grasped the paradox. “That’s it!” I thought. There is a point where someone can be too tired and exhausted to smile. Too tired to give any more love. Therefore the act of giving love – a sincere smile, a kind word – costs energy. And energy is subject to the economy of survival. We don’t argue with survival. Just as we would think it would be crazy for a lion to run around all day without the expectation of landing some prey, it would be crazy for us to go around loving without expecting something in return. Now I didn’t go out to refute the Buddhists, but we have look at the facts. If a lion runs around too long without catching some food, its going to starve and die. In the same way if you go around smiling and loving people without getting any love in return – sooner or later those smiles fade, you will become irritable and bad tempered. Since giving love costs energy, to give away love for nothing is counter constructive – its an unsustainable activity. It’s the same uncomfortable feeling you get when you counsel a friend who’s in a relationship with a lazy partner. You know that its not going to last. Almost running as I logged off and hurried back out to the crowded Christmas streets. There was only a couple of shopping hours left. I regarded the seething mass of frenzied consumers queuing outside a department store – did they all know? Were they unwittingly just throwing their love away on one-sided relationships and tabloid celebrities only to be forced to desperately dredge up affection 8


from dogs and children? And what was going to happen when there were no more children? People are already becoming scared of the economic consequences of negative population growth – but what of consequences for global well-being? No wonder rates of depression related illnesses are escalating the world over. Better start breeding dogs… lots of dogs. I fought down my urge to panic. Questions of an impeding global love crisis aside, the shops were about Gifts to close and wasn’t even halfway through my list. It was time to start economising. only forI the privileged few – the rest would have to be satisfied with a phone call or (as I swallowed down the lump of hypocrisy clogging my throat) - a mass email. My stomach turned itself in knots – with minutes left to spare, how was I going to make everyone happy? The girl at the cash register looked fatigued – it was Christmas time, but there wasn’t much joy on her face. Industry experts predict that our current oil reserves will only last another 40 years, but does anyone know how big our reserves of love, good-will and kindness are? We may be facing a global shortage that I’m sure is excaberated by our quest for success and consumer nirvana. We have ministers for the economy and a national treasurer, but why don’t we have a minister for love, happiness and well-being? We need to recognise and begin managing love as we do any other renewable resource. We need to think about sustainable love and provide incentives for love recycling programs. We need government grants for research into questions such as “what is the difference between a genuine smile and an insincere grin?” You would agree there is a difference, but we need to quantify this difference so that we can plan, manage and avoid catastrophe’s in the future. Turning love into a number might sound scary, but it seems to be the natural course of things, as science slowly chips away at the long list of life’s mysteries that were previously the domain of religion. We accept the miracles that doctors perform daily just like we accept the constant presence of mobile phones. Chocolate - that was the answer! I was out of time. Everyone else would just have to be happy with that. Muscling my way into the crowded sweets shop I found the customers held spellbound by a five year old boy performing a hyperactive worship of all the treats that were trapped behind the glass of the counter. He knew everyone was watching as he pointed to each brand of chocolate, turned around and performed a kind of smiling dance as if this would convince us that he really deserved more. As his mother hurried him out of the doorway he paused momentarily and waved to his captive audience. We were powerless but to smile and wave back. The door closed and the shop resumed with the bustle of last-minute Christmas customers fervently attached to their desires.

9

The Hidden Economy of Love

Recommend Documents