Before I tell this story, I would like to put you who are reading this, into the shoes of the person that I am about to detail.
Imagine this; You are a Norwegian, born and raised. You have lived through the second world war, you have traveled the world working as a machinist on a goods boat, you have run a successful business for decades, and you have happily paid your sky high taxes based on the belief that by paying those taxes you will be ensured a comfortable life after your life-long duty to your country. You have certainly done your part, even more than your part. While others found excuses not to work, you have toiled away on ponderous jobs. Much longer than the 37.5 hours which is the standard Norwegian work week. Why, in the height of the success of your business, you probably worked upwards of 60-70 hours per week, for a decade or more... Lets now fast forward to somewhere around mid-2013.
Let's call this fella Bob. I know him very well, in fact I see him up to three times per week, while working with his mobility impaired son. Somewhere in mid 2013 Bob's knee began acting up. It isn't odd considering the type of work he had been doing for the past 30 odd years; running a machine rental company out of his home, and doing repairs. Out in the cold, heavy lifting, and late hours tend to take a tole on ones' joints. So it surprised no one that wear and tare began to show its unwelcome face once his age began to creep over 70.
As time went on, it became worse, to the point where standing up and sitting down was labored. Even getting up and down the stairs. His knee began to throb. Bob's machine rental business was still running, he was the type that enjoys his work, the type that doesn't like to just exist. Work was his honor. The pain in his knee was making it hard to do his work, so he made an appointment with his doctor, and was referred to an expert.
Three painful months later of sitting idly in his chair, he was finally able to see this expert. The result, he was told, was that his knee would continue to get worse and eventually lock up if he went without a knee replacement operation. This didn't mean however, that the doctor had approved the operation. You see, here in Norway, it isn't up to Bob whether or not he will get the operation. It is up to the hospital, the government, some guy in some office.
After another long wait, he received a letter in the mail; a very disappointing letter in fact. A letter telling Bob, that he was denied the operation. A letter saying that he was too old to get a state sponsored knee replacement. Imagine for a moment how this man felt. Let me remind you that he has a business to run, which would be impossible without that brand new knee. I would feel powerless, wouldn't you?
You are told here that we all pay in to the collective pool, and that will create security for everyone. That we have to think about the poor, the incapable, the invalid! Don't be greedy now, this is for your own good. Don't you care about the little guy? Do you really want the sick to go without treatment? How dare you, capitalist! It's greedy people like you that we need protection against!
Bob was lucky in fact, and I will tell you why; he had taken out a private health insurance some years back, "just in case." His private health insurance covered his knee replacement operation, in a private hospital, and they did the whole job in a quick and efficient manner.
When I see this man now, I see someone very conflicted. He personally experienced the failure of socialism, though I'm not sure that is what he equates it to. A lot of people I meet here, will agree on a lot of points of why certain aspects fail, but they aren't able to see the larger picture. They think that it's a policy failure, that we need even more state intervention, that some individual behind some desk failed them, but no not the system!
Bob and I discuss these things during dinner, three times a week. He still wants to believe in socialism. They all do. No amount of logic or reason will sway them. I believe only the severest of crisis's will change their minds. Then again, maybe not even then...
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Mr Fix it
One of my jobs is a full time position as a preschool teacher. This is a state run preschool, as most are in the country. You see, Norwegians go by the motto; "Each child shall have a spot in a preschool." They are heavily subsidized.
In our county, and others, there are fix-it folks that travel from state-run enterprises to fix whatever it is that may be broken. Well that's the idea anyways. The trouble is that they can't possibly keep up with the never-ending jobs to do. There aren't either enough of them, or the ones they have aren't motivated to do their jobs quickly - I'm not sure which.
This is how the system works;
I go to work, and notice say, a light-bulb burned out. Well you are probably thinking, "well then CamCam, you probably then replace the burned out light-bulb with a shiny new one, and problem solved..." No sir, that is not what I do. I rather go to the stack of papers located in the break room, and fill out a form detailing the nature of my issue and requesting a Mr fit-it to come and relieve me of my plight. Even. for. a. burned. out. light-bulb.
In fact, when I was still fresh, I went to change the light bulb myself. I was rebuked! How dare I! I cannot do that on my own. Why, that is someone else's job! So I changed my malevolent ways and resigned myself to changing that darned light-bulb the "proper" way. That is, by filling out paperwork, and sometimes waiting up to 2-3 days for that light-bulb to be changed. No I am not being jocular... I have honestly waited several days for a light-bulb to be changed. Well it didn't affect me much actually, but it did the children. That lonely burned out bulb was in fact in the children's bathroom - those poor little socialists were forced to relieve themselves in the pitch black dark.
That was several years ago; lets fast forward to the beginning of this current week. On January 11, I came to work on the early shift to find that the walk-in refrigerator wasn't working and needed to be repaired. Keep in mind that this is the cache that contains the food that will feed circa 50 children over the course of a week or so. That's a lot of food, milk, and other odds and ends. Now it wasn't working. This time however, we were able to call Mr Fix it and told him of our exigent matter, and he actually came the very same day! Success? Not quite.. He informed us that he wouldn't be able to repair our fridge until Thursday. This was Monday remember. What were we to do with a weeks worth of food for a small army of pint sized socialists you may ask? Well it being winter, we had to store it outside. But where could we keep it, safe from the birds and the beasts? Well a big old container of course!
Today is Thursday I should add, and the fridge still is in disrepair, luckily we will have moved locations to another preschool while ours is being renovated. Next week I shall experience the luxury of perfectly chilled food again!
In our county, and others, there are fix-it folks that travel from state-run enterprises to fix whatever it is that may be broken. Well that's the idea anyways. The trouble is that they can't possibly keep up with the never-ending jobs to do. There aren't either enough of them, or the ones they have aren't motivated to do their jobs quickly - I'm not sure which.
This is how the system works;
I go to work, and notice say, a light-bulb burned out. Well you are probably thinking, "well then CamCam, you probably then replace the burned out light-bulb with a shiny new one, and problem solved..." No sir, that is not what I do. I rather go to the stack of papers located in the break room, and fill out a form detailing the nature of my issue and requesting a Mr fit-it to come and relieve me of my plight. Even. for. a. burned. out. light-bulb.
In fact, when I was still fresh, I went to change the light bulb myself. I was rebuked! How dare I! I cannot do that on my own. Why, that is someone else's job! So I changed my malevolent ways and resigned myself to changing that darned light-bulb the "proper" way. That is, by filling out paperwork, and sometimes waiting up to 2-3 days for that light-bulb to be changed. No I am not being jocular... I have honestly waited several days for a light-bulb to be changed. Well it didn't affect me much actually, but it did the children. That lonely burned out bulb was in fact in the children's bathroom - those poor little socialists were forced to relieve themselves in the pitch black dark.
That was several years ago; lets fast forward to the beginning of this current week. On January 11, I came to work on the early shift to find that the walk-in refrigerator wasn't working and needed to be repaired. Keep in mind that this is the cache that contains the food that will feed circa 50 children over the course of a week or so. That's a lot of food, milk, and other odds and ends. Now it wasn't working. This time however, we were able to call Mr Fix it and told him of our exigent matter, and he actually came the very same day! Success? Not quite.. He informed us that he wouldn't be able to repair our fridge until Thursday. This was Monday remember. What were we to do with a weeks worth of food for a small army of pint sized socialists you may ask? Well it being winter, we had to store it outside. But where could we keep it, safe from the birds and the beasts? Well a big old container of course!
Today is Thursday I should add, and the fridge still is in disrepair, luckily we will have moved locations to another preschool while ours is being renovated. Next week I shall experience the luxury of perfectly chilled food again!
Welcome to surviving socialism, you can call me CamCam for now. I'd rather not use my real name at the moment, considering that I will be sharing a good deal about work situations and so forth.
Let me introduce myself a little. I am an American, that has been living in Socialist Norway for the past 9 plus years, am 32 years old, and you could call me a libertarian before you could call me anything else.
I finally have made the push to move out of this nightmare, and try my hand back in the good old US of A. In three months time I will be gone, and gone forever. No longer will I have piles of Norwegian lazies clinging to my back.
My time here has been incredibly frustrating, as dealing with socialism is for any hard worker attempting to reach his or her goals. Up until now, I have recalled these experiences one by one occasionally whenever asked, or the topic of socialism has come up. I've realized how little of an affect I have been having. What I need is a place to scribe these experiences, where I can send people. My memory is fickle, and I just don't trust that I will have the ability to convey my experiences say, ten years down the road.
My goal is simple; to convey to anyone willing to read, the practical examples of living with socialism. I've realized that most people have no idea what actual daily socialistic living is like. They hear ideas of Bernie Sanders, or conversations among progressive; but they have no idea the frustrations one actually encounters. I intend to tell them. Some examples are current; my last days here in the country; but I also intend to recall past experiences and tell those as well.
Remember; I am no author, and I just don't have the time to dig up law. These will be candid examples of my day to day life here. Some examples might bore, others will hopefully make your chin drop. I want the reader to come away with the crystal clear opinion that, "I never want to live that way."
Onward to my most recent example, which you will find in my next post. Thanks for reading! Let's wake up the people, and show them that this parasitic dependency on both the state, and others hard work not only isn't sustainable, but downright wasteful, and morally wrong. The truth is simple, we all deserve better than what socialism has to offer
Let me introduce myself a little. I am an American, that has been living in Socialist Norway for the past 9 plus years, am 32 years old, and you could call me a libertarian before you could call me anything else.
I finally have made the push to move out of this nightmare, and try my hand back in the good old US of A. In three months time I will be gone, and gone forever. No longer will I have piles of Norwegian lazies clinging to my back.
My time here has been incredibly frustrating, as dealing with socialism is for any hard worker attempting to reach his or her goals. Up until now, I have recalled these experiences one by one occasionally whenever asked, or the topic of socialism has come up. I've realized how little of an affect I have been having. What I need is a place to scribe these experiences, where I can send people. My memory is fickle, and I just don't trust that I will have the ability to convey my experiences say, ten years down the road.
My goal is simple; to convey to anyone willing to read, the practical examples of living with socialism. I've realized that most people have no idea what actual daily socialistic living is like. They hear ideas of Bernie Sanders, or conversations among progressive; but they have no idea the frustrations one actually encounters. I intend to tell them. Some examples are current; my last days here in the country; but I also intend to recall past experiences and tell those as well.
Remember; I am no author, and I just don't have the time to dig up law. These will be candid examples of my day to day life here. Some examples might bore, others will hopefully make your chin drop. I want the reader to come away with the crystal clear opinion that, "I never want to live that way."
Onward to my most recent example, which you will find in my next post. Thanks for reading! Let's wake up the people, and show them that this parasitic dependency on both the state, and others hard work not only isn't sustainable, but downright wasteful, and morally wrong. The truth is simple, we all deserve better than what socialism has to offer
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