Recently, my oldest son, now a thirty-something living in New York City, referenced, “The Snowpants Rule.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“What’s that?” he looked at me incredulously, “You made it up!”
“Remind me then.”
“When we were little kids and we’d want to go out and play in the snow, you’d tell us we couldn’t go out unless we promised to stay out for at least as long as it took us to put on our snow pants in the first place. The Snowpants Rule.”
Ah-hh, yes. My mind reeled me back across the decades to packaging up my son and his brother in hats, boots, mittens, and snow pants to be protected from the harsh, Vermont winter. Too often, after taking fifteen minutes to properly bundle them, they’d feel the first puff of wintery chill and would be banging on the door to get back in.
My son continued. “I’ve found The Snowpants Rule can be applied in any number of other situations, too. For instance, there’s the Travel Variation of The Snowpants Rule. It’s not worth traveling anywhere unless you are planning to stay there at least the square of your travel time. So, don’t spend two hours going somewhere unless you are planning to stay there at least four hours (2 x2=4). If it takes twelve hours of travel time, you should spend 144 hours (12 x 12), or six days, there. It’s a very versatile rule.”
I’ve thought a lot about The Snow- pants Rule since then. The concept is brilliant, not because I gave it a name, but because of its simplicity. Paraphrased, it is, “Think through your resource requirement before embarking on a project.” Duh, that’s a no-brainer, you say, but it’s amazing how many times we see it violated in real life. A few examples:
I was approached recently by someone wanting marketing assistance to increase volume on a product with a cost of $12 that they would sell at a retail of $16, giving retailers a 40% discount (netting $9.60). Since each transaction would be losing $2.40, increasing the volume wouldn’t help much.
A local restaurant failed because the owner finally realized that with the number of tables he had, and the number of “turns” he could do each evening, he would never be able to cover his fixed costs. He did the math, but only after the fact.
This brings to mind other cliches, such as, “plan your work and work your plan.”These are wise words that apply to many situations, but how often do we violate them? Another variation on the theme is what I think of as The Garden Rule. When planning a garden, complete your plan, then cut the garden size in half, and cut it in half again. Seasoned gardeners have learned the hard way that what seems feasible when tilling in April, maybe a tangle of untended weeds come August.
Another variation of The Snow- pants Rule can help you in managing your investments. Remember the Tech Bubble? Fortunes were lost when decisions were fueled by greed, then losses were exacerbated by tumbling prices which caused panic selling. Now, before making an investment, I try to ask myself, “What profit will I be satisfied with and how much am I willing to lose?” If you are disciplined enough to follow your own advice, you might occasionally leave money on the table, but you will also avoid the classic mistake of throwing good money after bad. I call this the Greed and Fear Rule.
And what does this all have to do with Green Living? Everything, in my opinion. People who are “friends of the environment” are thought by some to be tree-hugging dilettantes who can afford to pay carriage-trade prices to drive their Priuses to the local co-op.
My definition of a “friend of the environment” is a cheapskate who thoughtfully applies The Snowpants Rule to each and every decision, fully considering the resource requirements and payback. Should I grow kidney beans in the garden when I can buy them for $0.79 a pound at the supermarket, or $1.69 for the organic ones at the co-op? From a dollar and cents perspective, this is a no-brainer, but what if you factor in the fact that my out-of-pocket costs are zero because I saved seed from last year’s crop? What if I monetized the benefits to my health from the fresh air and exercise I get in the garden, or to my psyche from the rhythm of shelling beans? Then there is the satisfaction of consuming something in March, that came from my own soil and has been touched at least twice by my own hands. I can’t express these as numbers, but I promise I’m going to grow beans again!
Stephen Morris is the National Editor for the Green Living Journal, lives in Randolph, VT, and is an avid Red Sox fan.
