Last week, in Time magazine, they reported a statistic that caught my attention. The statistic? Well, Time magazine reported that five minutes is what an American has to work to afford a beer, according to a new study of the median wages and average beer prices across 150 countries. The average for most nations is twenty minutes. Five minutes . . . who knew?
I sure didn’t know that five minutes after starting work I had earned enough to purchase a beer . . . even at my wages! There must be some pretty cheap beer out there! Or, there must be some pretty well paid employees out there! Either way, who knew that five minutes of work could produce enough money to purchase a beer . . . as long as you were not at some major sporting event or a concert. Five minutes . . .
. . . I am guessing that my boss doesn’t know. She would probably be questioning why I am so willing to work overtime . . . she’d accuse me of wanting to earn more money for beer. Hey, can I help it if they university gives time-and-a-half for overtime? Shoot, working overtime cuts my earning ability in half . . . now it is two and a half minutes!
Being a “stat geek”, I thought I would check out the math. Typically I purchase my beer supply on Friday afternoon on the way home from work. I usually spend about $21.00 for three six-packs of microbrews. That equates to about $1.16 a beer. My five minutes of work is worth—surprisingly$1.16! Who knew? I didn’t!
I also figured that in a typical eight hour work day I would be able to afford 96 beers. Ninety-six beers . . . I can already hear the wife giving it to me if I brought home 96 beers . . . that is a whole nearly half a year’s worth of beer at our house! That’s 480 beers a week . . . 24,960 beers a year . . . not counting overtime at time-and-a-half. That sort of production would give White Clay, Nebraska a run for its money. If you don’t know what I am referring to, Google White Clay.
Talk about renewing one’s purpose for work! I guess I should be thankful that I live in the good ol’ U.S. of A.! Five minutes . . . who knew!