There’s a scene in the movie “Three Men and a Baby” where one of the men whose raising an infant says to another, “She made a doodie; your turn to change her.”
To this the other says, “I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you’ll do it.”
I thought of this as I read yet another newspaper article about how we are teetering on the brink of a possible recession, forcing many Americans once again to do a little soul searching about how they affix value to everything from a home … to a car … or even a cup of coffee or a corned beef sandwich.
We live in a blessed nation—where someone could actually pay a thousand dollars to someone just to change a diaper—teeming with possibilities and built on a belief that the American Dream is within everyone’s grasp. Problem is, sometimes dreams can turn into nightmares.
We live in a well-documented materialistic society, where conspicuous consumption is the norm and keeping up with the “Joneses” is a national pastime. What we Americans will pay exorbitant prices for has become a running gag with multiple punch lines: from bottled water, to specialty coffees, to high definition televisions too big for our living rooms. Everyone—including preteens—carries a cell phone, and we shell out outrageous monthly fees to have more cable channels pumped into our homes than we can ever hope to watch. Even the poorest kid from the worst part of town finds a way to own a pair of expensive athletic footwear.
Greater minds than mine have opined about how value is attached to something, from concrete items like jewels and furs, to intangibles, like love, loyalty, and talent. But I do believe this: there’s nothing inherently wrong with owning a large house with multiple rooms—unless those rooms become hiding places for family members trying to avoid each other.
Since this is a healthcare publication and, thanks to presidential politics, this year health care has become a dominant issue for Democrats and Republicans alike, it’s fair to ask: What value do we place on health care in America and how should we determine compensation for the facilities and professionals who deliver that care?
Because the provision of health care is viewed by some as a universal right to be provided to all, its value cannot be determined simply by the Economics 101 lesson of supply and demand. So how do we determine value and, eventually, price and compensation?
A couple of thoughts come to mind. First, while many Americans protest salary increases for police, firefighters, elected officials, and even teachers, they seem to have no problem indirectly (through ticket purchases) supporting lavish lifestyles for actors or pro athletes whose relative contribution to society can’t compare to the aforementioned professions.
Second, while some parents sacrifice for years to pay extra for their children’s education, others are content to send them to inferior schools—but make sure their kids show up for class in designer jeans.
Third, although most employees gripe about increases in their contributions to health insurance or co-pays, universally the first thing they say when a loved one needs care is, I don’t care what it costs, just get him (or her) the best doctors.”
I wish I had answers to share; hey, I wish I could say I never wasted money on some frivolous purchase or under-valued something of real treasure, like the company of a true friend. I guess the most I can hope for, and the reason for this rambling, is just to encourage some thought.
I’ll start: I think it would be a wiser path for me to tap into the value system instilled in me by my parents and other people whose judgment I trust, rather than those singular goal is to separate me from my bank account as quick as possible.
Which means I’ll never pay someone a thousand dollars for someone to change a diaper. (Even 50 years from now, when perhaps that diaper is mine.)
