Fragile connections
As the economy reopens, we must tend to our communities
Price, cost and value. Investors of all kinds use these concepts when deciding where and when to move their money, but the COVID19 crisis has inspired those of us with more modest means to make similar calculations.
We might not use the same terms, but it’s what we’re doing right now as we scrutinize our economic transactions like never before, in ways we didn’t anticipate three months ago. As individuals and as a nation, we may find we’ve been getting the math all wrong.
For a very long time, American consumers have been laser-focused on price — to stretch our budgets as far as possible, of course — but perhaps without giving enough consideration to hidden expenses, longterm costs and lasting value.
The pandemic is laying it all bare. As small businesses in particular struggle during the prolonged shutdown, we see family, friends, neighbors and strangers enduring true hardship. We see more starkly now the real-life impact of even our minor economic choices.
On a much greater scale, the federal government, states and hospitals are realizing that while the cost of maintaining emergency medical supplies might be unappealing, and the price for buying from a local manufacturer might be higher, the cost to acquire them in a crisis is far greater — both in dollar amounts and in lives lost.
Value is about the long term. Sure, the number on today’s price-tag or spreadsheet may be low, but what are the hidden costs down the road? We are finding out in a painful way.
Value is also about relationships. Reliability and accountability are more often had closer to home.
For consumers, value is also about memorable experiences and lasting meaning. And yes, surprisingly, even a carry-out pizza can carry that much existential weight.
Mid-pandemic, it’s painfully clear that the new bistro a few miles away and some old neighborhood haunts are barely hanging on. A fresh-made dinner is double the cost of something from the supermarket freezer, but it’s better. Equally important, I want my local pizzeria to still be in business next fall — as well as the Hungarian joint with the great chicken paprika, and the one-off grill on McKnight Road with excellent burgers.
That’s why so many people leave bigger tips for carry-out these days. Friends who’ve seen their work reduced and paychecks shrink are nonetheless making this generous gesture. They put me to shame.
They see the faces and life savings behind these independent places, and they’re making an investment in a shared future. It is both generous and self-rewarding.
Right now the main arena for local spending is food. Because book stores and boutiques are deemed nonessential, the only way to feed those appetites is through online shopping. But as the economy slowly reopens, we should think hard about where we spend our precious dollars — and our time.
The jacket may cost less online than at the boutique on Butler or East Ohio Street, but when it arrives, will it look anything like the picture? Will it fit? Did Amazon need my money?
How long did it take me to try the thing on, box it up and return it? Could a bunch of online shopping flurries be rolled into a memorable excursion that benefits the neighborhood? Did I really save any time? Did I help anyone? Did I have any fun?
The upside of all our modern choices is that we can maximize both satisfaction and community impact. It’s the people, not the stuff. Less can be way, way more.
It is not so far a leap as a skeptic might think to apply some individual “best practices” to our great institutions. Local sourcing is essential. Sourcing equals investment, and in the long run, it costs less.
The pandemic has revealed how fragile our connectedness is — and how strong. It compels us to consider changing our habits for good, in both senses of that phrase: Forever, and for the better. You can’t put a price on that.