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!
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