Balancing Act

Well into the third year of a global pandemic, we are stressed and stretched in ways that are obvious and that we’re just beginning to understand. Leave it to those hardy, contented Swedes to provide a potential path forward. 

First, some numbers and observations. The workplace is among the pandemic’s visible effects. Office work all but shut down for an extended time and is just starting to return. Almost 48 million people quit their jobs from March 2020 through 2021 during the so-called “Great Resignation,” and more than eight million quit in the first two months of 2022, according to the jobs and career website Zippia. 

The health-care field is among the hardest hit. As of late last year, the Bureau of Labor Statistics estimated that starting in Feb. 2020 health care lost almost a half-million workers. The survey research outfit Morning Consult reported that 18 percent of health care workers quit, often citing pandemic burnout, and another 12 percent were laid off. Elsewhere, the accommodation and food service industry lost 892,000 workers, almost 6.9 percent of its total workforce, in 2021. The sectors of leisure and hospitality, retail trade, and professional and business services all lost more than 700,000 workers last year. 

Among reasons cited for quitting, again from Zippia, were low pay and lack of advancement opportunities (both 63 percent), feeling disrespected at work (56 percent), child care issues (48 percent), and lack of schedule flexibility (45 percent). 

Back to the Swedes. A foundational point of Swedish society is a concept called “lagom.” It’s pronounced LAR-gohm. There’s no direct English translation, and it loosely means “just the right amount” or “everything in moderation.” It’s being satisfied with what makes you and your family comfortable, without constantly striving to acquire more. 

Lagom doesn’t preclude hard work, but it preaches balance between the professional and the personal, that you aren’t merely your job, your financial wealth, your possessions. Sixty-hour work weeks and clawing your way to the top of a profession are viewed as neither desirable nor healthy, by individuals or if expected by companies. 

Adopting a similar concept here may be a hard ask, given the American tendency to conflate work and wealth with virtue and achievement, as well as a relentless consumer culture that must be constantly fed. Pandemic upheaval, however, may lead the idea to take root. 

A recent movement among workers called “quiet quitting” has received attention. It’s a misnomer, because it’s not actually quitting, but a kind of employee disengagement. Recognizing that they’re often underpaid and overworked, some workers no longer buy into the grind and instead do only the bare minimum of their job descriptions for the prescribed number of hours. They seek work that’s more fulfilling or accommodating, if not more lucrative, hence the large numbers of people who quit or changed jobs in the wake of the pandemic. Without getting rewarded, either financially or personally, they believe that so-called “hustle culture” has become a myth. 

Sweden is a more social democratic country than the U.S., with robust national health care, strong labor unions, worker protections, and the tax structure to support it. Its citizens don’t seem to mind. In the World Happiness Report of 2021, Sweden ranked seventh (FWIW, five of the top eight happiest countries are Scandinavian). The U.S. was 16th. 

The WHR measures six categories: gross domestic product per capita; social support; healthy life expectancy; freedom to make life choices; generosity of the general population; and perceptions of internal and external corruption levels. In Freedom House’s 2021 report measuring political rights and civil liberties around the world, Sweden, Norway and Finland tied for first with perfect scores of 100. The U.S. scored an 83, just ahead of Trinidad and Tobago, and just behind Croatia, Mongolia and Monaco. 

All that said, I’m not advocating that the U.S. go full Sweden. Meatballs and pickled herring are non-starters for me. IKEA furniture is an instruction manual for self-torture. A surfeit of ABBA in a country where half the population is already obese or pre-diabetic is just asking for trouble. I defer to Zman on the merits of Volvos. Larger point being, as tragic and life-altering as the pandemic was and is, it also provides an opportunity. We should have discussions about health and work and education and income and personal and social responsibility and sustainability. About improving ourselves and our nation. If we treat the pandemic as a one-off and an interruption, and simply try to return to “normal,” then we’ve compounded the tragedy.

Shazams are Back Again

The shazams are back!  Here are some cool songs I Shazammed since my last post.  I hope they liven up your summer.

Be Thankful for What You've Got by William DeVaughan (N.W.A. sampled this)

Rosie by Figmore featuring Juicebox & 10.4 Rog (no idea who any of those acts are but this is a fun song)

Our Love Will Still Be There by Big Blood (this band made the last Shazams, this time covering the Troggs)

Living Room by David Holmes (give it a minute and it pays off)

runt på stranden by Shitkid (who doesn't love a Swedish all-girl punk rock act?)

The Evidence by Snapped Ankles (I suspect these guys like Devo)

Whipped Cream by Lorenzo Holden (no idea what this has to do with whipped cream but it swings)

Gudbuy T'Jane by Slade (I need to invest some energy into listening to these guys)

One World by Utopia (Todd Rungren is involved)

Happy Father's Day!

History Repeating, Alternatively Titled "Two Great Smut Heists"

One of the great things about joining a fraternity, other than the lifelong friendships and resultant oddly shaped patches of missing body hair, are the stories. Stories that are called to mind after seeing videos like this one about Mr. Earlie Johnson:



"My collection was the best in Michigan! A guy in Connecticut told me that."

A tragedy. A tear-jerker even. Which reminds me of another jerker of a story, one from the vault if you will.

I have written about Spring Break '96 in this space previously. Before setting sail for Booz Crooz Island from the Burg someone, to whom I shall refer as "Schneider," "borrowed" a videotape from someone to whom I shall refer as "Gschvinn." Two important facts about the videotape are that it was (1) a rental from Video Update, the video store on Bypass Road, and (2) titled "Anal Angels 3." Schneider never told Gschvinn that he borrowed it and Gschvinn thought it was lost to the Unit M black hole that soaked up CDs, socks, and myriad other artifacts of frat life.

Years later, Schneider and I were living "right outside" of New York City and assembling a modest (compared to the guy in Michigan, based on the opinion of the guy in Connecticut) collection of smut. Much of it was bad because the good stuff cost more (huzzah for the internet!). The worst of the bunch was a multi-volume video set of "Classic Swedish Erotica" that Schneider acquired through some bulk purchase--he may in fact have received cash to take this stuff off its previous owner's hands. The videos should have been great. Swedish women are notoriously beautiful and the adjective "classic" made the tapes sound like must-see-TV. But in reality "classic" just meant old and "Swedish" referred to the ethnicity of one of the cameramen, not the actresses (who were generally unattractive with massive disco mitts). Simply put, there was nothing classic, Swedish, or erotic about these movies. But we made do.

Our close proximity to the Big Apple made our crib a go-to destination for the Lammie jetset crowd. So, naturally, Gschvinn eventually came to visit. After a night of carousing I entered my living room and found Gschvinn prone on my hand-me-down floral yellow couch, covered in the patina of sweat, sebum, nicotine, and malt liquor that only men in their early-to-mid twenties can generate, nursing a hangover. He professed a need for the famous hangover cure-all: shit, shower, shave, shmoke, and a shpank. I told him that he could do all of those things, as I am a famously gracious host, but asked him to wait for me to leave before doing so.

Gschvinn greatfully obliged and asked me to direct him to our nearest porn depository. I told him that several tapes were stored, naturally, behind my vinyl box set of The Smithsonian's Collection of Classic Jazz. Jazzed to jazz, Gschvinn dove into the stack and, to his great dismay, pulled out a copy of "Anal Angels 3" emblazoned with a Video Update sticker. Purple with rage, Gschvinn regaled me with the story of how the thought the tape was lost and the great dishonor that fell upon him when Video Update repeatedly harranged him for it. Apparently a few female students worked there and learned that he not only rented the film but that he absconded with it, making him a particlarly dirty bastard in their eyes. He eventually had to pony up a vast sum of money to cover the loss lest his credit rating get ruined, adding further insult to injury.

Gschvinn hatched his plan of retribution: he would steal Schneider's most beloved video. He held up "Classic Swedish Erotica: Volume 7" and asked "Does Schneider like this one?" Happy to get this atrocity out of my house, I lied that this was a foundational video in Schneider's rotation, the ace of the staff, and thus Gschvinn absconded with it.

Predictably, Schneider didn't notice. There were at least 8 total volumes to "Classic Swedish Erotica" and each of them was chaff that was routinely passed over for better stuff. Life moved on without a hitch.

Several months later, Schneider was in DC with a lady friend in order, among other things, to attend a keg party at Gschvinn's. Primary of those "other things" was a little quality romantic time with the lady friend in question. Upon arriving at the party, Schneider gallantly filled his lady's Solo cup and began filling his own when Gschvinn's roommate, to whom I shall refer as "Teedge" and said "Hey, Schneider, here's your 'Classic Swedish Erotica: Volume 7.' Thanks for letting Gschvinn borrow it, but that's some nasty shit. It turned my stomach. How do you get off to that? Dirty mothafucker." Schneider was stunned. His lady was repulsed. The rest of the weekend did not go as planned.

Hopefully karma will come around and get the thief that stole Mr. Johnson's collection in a similar fashion.

Sweden is the Florida of Scandinavia

I thought this type of thing only happened in Florida.

When a Swedish dope smoker's TV started talking to him and his girlfriend appeared to turn into a dolphin, he decided it was time to lodge a complaint. The befuddled 26-year-old went to his local police station to complain about the low quality of the hash he had been sold. He told officers he suspected it had been laced with LSD or some other psychedelic substance, and wanted it tested, the Local reports.

The man told police he'd never experienced similar effects in his 10 years of smoking hash. Police say the dealer could face assault charges on top of drug-dealing ones if the hashish sample turned in by the dissatisfied customer was found to contain LSD. No charges have been filed, however, since the smoker eventually decided against giving police the name of his supplier.