Hours after Little’s order, Idahoans are rushing to stores. Here’s why you shouldn’t hoard
Remember that scene from Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” where there’s a run on the bank, and George Bailey rushes back to the office to rescue his building and loan business?
I’ve been thinking a lot about that scene lately, when I see grocery store shelves empty of noodles, pasta, sugar and toilet paper because of panic buying from the coronavirus outbreak.
“We can get through this thing all right,” George tells the crowd of a few dozen people looking to pull their money out of the business. “We’ve got to stick together, though. We’ve got to have faith in each other.”
George had $2,000 (of his own money) just to hold people over until the crisis passed. One customer, Tom, wants to take out all of his money, $242.
“Now, Tom, just enough to tide you over until the bank reopens,” George replies.
Tom’s not having it. He wants his $242. (Tom’s a jerk. Don’t be like Tom, everyone. Tom would be the guy walking out of Costco with pallets of toilet paper.)
Then Ed, another customer, says he has $300 invested there.
You can see that if everyone started taking out $200 or $300, there won’t be nearly enough to help everyone crowded into the office.
“What’ll it take until the bank opens?” George pleads. “What do you need?”
“Well, I suppose $20,” Ed replies.
And so, one by one, everyone takes just what they need to tide them over, and at the end of the day, the old Bailey Bros. Building and Loan Association stays in business, with $2 to spare.
I was reminded again of that scene now that Idaho Gov. Brad Little has issued a stay-at-home order for the whole state.
I was also reminded of it last week while I was doing reporting for my column on rent being forgiven for Boise city affordable housing units.
One of the residents pulled me aside and asked if I could put the word out about hoarding at the grocery stores.
For most of us, the hoarding has been an annoying inconvenience, as the toilet paper supply runs dangerously low or we’re almost out of sugar for our coffee or the pasta shelves are wiped clear of fusilli. Our household doesn’t eat a lot of Ramen, so I could just shake my head as I passed those cleaned-out shelves.
But as the resident of Vista apartments pointed out to me, folks like his neighbors don’t have a lot of money to buy things in bulk. They don’t have enough money to keep a couple of weeks’ supply of toilet paper and Ramen noodles on hand. They shop week-to-week, sometimes day-to-day. When the shelves get cleaned out of the items they regularly buy, it’s more than just a minor inconvenience. They don’t have the luxury of going back home to dip into a backup supply or “having to” eat the plain chicken noodle soup instead of the lemon chicken with orzo soup. There’s just no soup.
He also pointed out something interesting. He lives on a fixed income, receiving some sort of set payment because of a pension or disability. However, many of his neighbors are “the working poor,” those who work but barely make enough money to get by as it is even in good times. In times like this, when hours and pay are cut, they’re the ones who are hurt the most.
Our food supply and, yes, our toilet paper supply are going to be just fine.
Hopefully, the hoarding and overbuying will come to an end soon and the shelves will get a chance to be restocked. In the meantime, before you grab that entire pallet of mac and cheese boxes or that fourth package of 24 rolls of toilet paper, remember that you’re causing more than just an annoying inconvenience; you’re causing downright hardship for some of our more vulnerable fellow citizens.
As George Bailey says, “Just remember that this thing isn’t as black as it appears.”
Don’t be like Tom. No one likes Tom. Just quit hoarding.
This story was originally published March 27, 2020 at 5:00 AM.
