Our Debt to Dilbert

My company's employee intranet site posts a Dilbert comic every day alongside the lunch menu, and while most elicit a chuckle among myself and my fellow cubicle-dwellers, this one was downright eerie... mainly because it somehow reminded me of the national debt (my brain is a scary place, I know).

The deficit panel this week created a proposed list of spending cuts/tax increases in an attempt to cut our nation's debt (see WSJ article). Honestly, I am surprised to say that I actually think a lot of the suggestions make sense... for instance, lowering corporate tax rates, but eliminating a lot of loophole deductions. (Ditto for individuals, who would have some deductions eliminated, like mortgage interest, but whose base tax rate would go down). I think those moves could majorly simplify filing taxes, a process so complicated that even CPA's eyes cross (mine do, anyway). But the point here is that it comes back to Dilbert: many citizens wants the government to cut the deficit (myself included), but none want to deal with the practicalities of making it happen... sending the sort of mixed message I used to hear in my investment banking intern days:

Managing Director to me at 6pm on Friday: "We have a new project, but I don't want you here all weekend working on it. It should take about 25 man hours. I need it on my desk first thing Monday"

Uhh, ok.

Getting a politician to go anywhere near the Deficit Panel's suggestions will be essentially impossible, since political suicide is usually spelled: a) cutting spending to popular programs b) raise taxes on everyone (including the 'middle class') c) all of the above. So, as the New York Times asked today, 'how would you fix our budget'??

Mr. Deficit, I don't know how to get rid of you without a lot of painful measures. But I also know that our pain (and your grinch-iness) will only increase ten fold if we ignore you. So I would like to offer up some parting wisdom from our friend Mr. Seuss:

You're a foul one, Mister Grinch,
You're a nasty wasty skunk,
Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mister Grinch,

The three words that describe you are as follows, and I quote, "Stink, Stank, Stunk!"

Anything but a Plain Jane

I have been re-reading Jane Eyre this week. This would come as no surprise to those who knew me in college; I wrote my senior thesis on Charlotte Bronte’s works. But I have for several years been immersed in the financial realm, so it was an unexpected treat to revisit Jane Eyre. (My family and husband usually roll their eyes when they see me rereading books for the fifth or sixth time, however I continue undaunted in the rather strange habit of re-reading books).

One passage in particular struck me this week; Jane is leaving Mr. Rochester, whom she loves but is about to leave (spoiler alert!) because she discovered at the altar that Rochester already has a wife – a mad woman locked in the house’s attic. (And you thought classics were boring!) It rends her heart to leave, and Rochester pushes her to stay, offering to whisk her away to villas in France and Italy where they can live as a married couple with no one knowing they aren’t technically married. Jane realizes she must leave Rochester, reflecting:

I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad—as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation . . . They have a worth—so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane—quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs.” -Jane, Chapter 27

It is Jane’s perspective that calls us to action. The call to remember in the darkness what we have seen in the light; to recall the whispering we heard from God when all that currently surrounds is silence.

How much better would our businesses and governments be if only we could all take this lesson? To reform because we believed in doing the right thing, rather than because we were blind to everything but the punishment of being caught. To put in place government principles we believe are beneficial, not push through bills for the sole purpose of trying to be re-elected. Business ethics classes usually teach students that they should be ethical because it will pay off monetarily in the long run – i.e., recalling you faulty product is cheaper than the lawsuits and bad press. But what about being ethical for the sake of it? Because we had glimpses of the right thing in moments of sanity?

The hallmark of the last two years of the financial crisis has been insanity; panic from investors, greed from bankers, mud-slinging from politicians. Caught up in the moment, it is hard to reach back in memory to moments of normalcy. But it is those who can see in panic the eventual return to calm that will rule the day.