The Hiker's Guide to History - Joel McMahon's Blog

Addictions

In an effort to cut my budget as well as cut the crap from my life, I canceled cable on January 1st.  It was part of my New Year's resolution strategy of focusing on authenticity and abundance, and television does not fit into either of those two ambitions.  Lent began this week, which is every Catholic's opportunity for a resolution "do over," so this week I am checking the pulse on my resolutions to see how I'm doing.  So far, so good.

I have not watched TV during the week for two months, and I don't miss it one bit.  I actually have time to focus on family, friends, work, writing, and myself. Granted, I watch a bit of TV on the weekends when I am at the cabin, which has a satellite, but to watch TV seems awkward and uncomfortable.  I didn't think I watched TV that much before my resolutions, but I am beginning to realize that what I have experienced over the last two months has been no different than breaking a habit, an addiction.  Sitting in front of the idiot box each night became commonplace and comfortable for me, as is the case for many millions of Americans.  I'm a news junkie, so I watched the talking heads every night during the market crash and during the election last year, but I still watched the various addiction shows so prevalent in the amazingly and sadly popular reality TV. 

I've replaced TV watching with other, more healthy addictions: reading, writing, exercising, playing Scrabble with my wife . . . living.  I am no longer addicted to someone else's drama.  Life requires movement.  Let's move.

Love and Waffles, Part II

I've come to realize that the cliche is true:  The best things in life are free . . . or close to it.  This Valentine's Day was, by far, the least expensive I have ever experienced, but it also was the best one I have ever experienced . . . my wife concurs, which is the only thing that matters in such matters.  And, yes, the day of love included Waffle House . . . for many more than myself and my wife, it appears.

Normally, Waffle House parking lots glow yellow under their distinctive signage, which makes them easy to spot from a distance.  But on Valentine's Day, Waffle House glowed pink.  Yes, pink.  To celebrate Valentine's Day, the Waffle House on Cheshire Bridge Road in Atlanta covered its lights with red paper, which gave the place a warm pink glow as we drove into the parking lot.

Waffle House was a melting pot on Valentine's Day, and it was packed with an odd array of characters and caricatures: rich white guys and their cackling dates; red-faced red necks; rappers and raunchy women; transvestites and butch lesbians; curious college students; and us.  Even before we walked in, I could tell from the cars in the parking lot that it would be a venture in people watching, evidence that Waffle House's Valentine's Day candlelight dinner marketing effort paid off.  Every other car was a Mercedes or a Lexus, it seemed, and the guests ranged from flat broke to flashy black-tie.  From the looks of things when we arrived, the place was busy all day long; it was a bit trashy, even by Waffle House standards.  But we were not deterred from our Love and Waffles objective for one moment.  When I spoke to Carol, the manager who took my reservation earlier in the week, she said that she had never taken so many calls, and that the place had never been so busy.  And I suspect Waffle House will stay busy beyond Valentine's Day.

They say that only the strong survive.  I say that in this economy, only the cheap survive.  Cheap products and cheap people.  Wal*Mart announced a hefty profit last quarter, while all other retailers struggle to keep their doors open.  I heard once that after a nuclear holocaust, only two things would survive:  Cockroaches and Cher.  Add to the list Wal*Mart and Waffle House.

Love and Waffles

Holiday advertising has been subdued since the September 2008 crash, slash, and burn, and this Valentine's Day the trend continues. No one is buying, so there ain’t no advertising; and there ain’t no advertising, so no one is buying! My wife and I are still in zero-spend mode, but a moral dilemma rapidly approaches all men who ponder such things: How the hell do Cupid and I stay on budget this weekend?

While I will never confess that I bought my wife’s Valentine gift at Wal*Mart, the Valentine's Day dinner on Saturday night will expose me for the cheap S.O.B that I have become:  We are going to Waffle House. Using a brilliant marketing tactic, Waffle House, the beloved Southern mainstay, is offering candlelight dinners on Valentine's Day, complete with white table cloths and black-tied servers. Waffles by candlelight. Pure genius.

Waffle House and I go way back. I remember not being able to go to Waffle House very often when I was a kid because my father, who wrote the entry for “frugal” in Wikipedia, said every Sunday morning after church when those black letters on yellow blocks approached us on our ride home that we could not go to Waffle House because it was "too expensive.” For most of my childhood I thought WAFFLE HOUSE = EXPENSIVE. My father is a "Depression Baby" and feeding five screaming kids is expensive, even at Waffle House.

Once in college and working, I don’t think a week went by that I didn’t eat at a Waffle House. After college I worked in New York, and though New York boasts the finest dining in the world, there ain’t no Waffle House . . . or Chick-fil-A, for that matter, but I digress.  Besides, there was a time in my life when I wouldn’t be caught dead in a Waffle House. In the 1980s and 1990s, many who acquired wealth from the rapid rise in the market or who became Internet millionaires in the "new economy" were called “nouveau riche.”  I believe the tide has changed, for many who banked solid gains over the last couple of decades are shaking their heads and changing their wicked spending ways.  I am one of those.  Today, I am “nouveau cheap!”

Yes, this weekend, I am taking my wife to Waffle House for Valentine's dinner.  And I am going to order a double waffle and a double order of hash browns . . . scattered, smothered, covered and steamed, of course. And my wife?  She can have whatever she wants.  After all, it's Valentine's Day!

Care to join us?

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Trickle Down Trash

Remember the commercial in the 1970s that depicted a Native American man weeping as he watched a passerby speed down the highway tossing trash out the window of his car?  I’ve felt like that Indian lately as I commute each day and as I travel on Georgia’s highways and back roads.  I’ve never seen so much trash on the side of the road, and I’m talking bags of trash, not just the usual burger wrapper and fry box that has become an accepted part of the landscape.  It’s as if people are taking their home trash and tossing it out of their car windows.  I can’t tell who is to blame: the offenders or the parties responsible for cleanup, but I am certain the overriding cause is the current economic depression.

Are citizens so distraught over the economic downturn that they have given up all semblance decency and civic responsibility?  Is a tossed bag of home trash on the side of the road the equivalent of a middle finger or a strongly-worded letter to the editor or email to a county commissioner?  Sure, crime goes up when the economy goes down, but is the same true for littering?  Is littering some sort of passive-aggressive protest against the establishment? 

Or perhaps city, county and state governments are cutting services, and trash pickup isn’t a priority. It should be.  Trash on the roads is indicative of an overall lack of vigilance on the part of community leaders and enforcement.  Trash on the roads is indicative of abandonment.  Trash on the roads is indicative of a lack of care.  Trash on the roads is indicative of trashy people. And trashy people who know they are not being watched commit crimes.  Others have recognized this connection.

When Rudy Giuliani became mayor of New York, the first thing he did was clean up the streets.  Literally.  Giuliani believed that if you cleaned up the streets and got rid of the debris, graffiti, and broken windows, you cleaned up the crime.  And it worked.  As trash disappeared, so did crime.  The converse is true, as well: if trash increases, so does crime.

A clean street shows care. A clean community shows pride.  Even when we’re down and the prospects for the future look bleak, our standards must not drop in tandem.  Next time you are on the road, notice the trash.  Call your city.  Call your county. Demand more from your elected officials.  Demand more from your neighbors. Demand pride. 

Live proud.   

Spending Freeze

Back in September, I stopped transacting.  I mean, stopped cold: no new clothes, no meals out, no books (ouch!), no presents, no music, no memberships . . . nothing.  The stock market drop; the revelations of corporate corruption and greed; the collapse of Merrill, Lehman, WAMU, Wachovia, AIG; the housing and mortgage collapse; the auto industry bailout; and the return of Britney Spears to the airwaves made me pause and reevaluate my spending and consumption habits.  It’s a new era.  It’s a new economy.  And I am not alone: Consumer Spending Falls: AP Article February 2, 2009

 

My personal spending freeze continues.  Uncertainties in the market and in the economy have forced me to keep my powder dry and prepare for a rainy day.  But it looks like it will be a rainy year, or more, because some witch doctors . . . I mean, economists . . . have predicted that 9,000,000 Americans will lose their jobs in 2009.  Consumption patters will continue to change, but Americans still want to spend.  And I think the decision criteria for spending is changing.

 

At dinner last week (OK, so my anti-out-to-eat strategy is not absolute), I noticed that my favorite sushi restaurant enjoyed a bit of a bustle . . . to my delight.  I commented to my favorite waiter about the crowd, and he shook his head and said that even though the crowd was large, nobody was spending.  He pointed to a table of three women and said, “See them?  They ordered $12.00 worth of food and split it.  No drinks.”  Ouch!  Old habits, like dining out, die hard, but those same habits are prone to change.

 

My wife and I have decided to wear every article of clothing that hangs in our closets, rather than buying new.  Some articles, sadly, still have tags on them and have never been worn.  We have decided to consume every bit of food in our fridge and cupboards before making a grocery run. Yes, we like Costco, but we pretty much have Costco in our cupboards.  We’ve decided to go shopping in our closets and pantries.  And we are not alone in practicing pragmatism and caution in this new economy.

 

I noticed lately that I am extremely guarded with my money.  Who ever takes my cash, in my new attitude of personal protectivism, must deserve it.  In other words, I refuse to give a dime of my money to any bank or corporation who has behaved badly.  Any restaurant who gives bad service or serves a mediocre product doesn’t get my cash.  Any bank or brokerage firm that begged for a bailout from the Feds, gets not one dime of my money . . . and that is a long list: Wachovia (Wells Fargo), Citibank, AIG, Bank of America, Countrywide.  Any airline, automaker, builder, or widget maker that makes crap or gives lousy service and begs for money from me, the taxpayer, must deserve my hard-earned cash. 

If you build it, they will come . . . but it better be built damned well, and offered at the right price.  Corporate America, if you really want me to spend my money, prove it.