Speed is the supreme virtue in this time-obsessed new century. Consider
the most popular pro-ducts of our high-tech society-overnight delivery,
e-mail, ATM and FAX machines, express check-out, cell phones, answering
machines, speed dialing, palm pilots, remote controls, microwave ovens,
instant coffee, instant replay, instant grits, instant credit, and
instant gratification. We demand quick response and quick service-fast
food, fast computers, fast forward.
Conversely, we cannot abide slowness; waiting is intolerable. We rush
to press the "Close Door" button on the elevator for fear
of a 10-second pause in our accelerated lives. Have you ever found
yourself punching "66" seconds for a minute on the microwave
because it's quicker than fol-lowing the "6" with a "0"?
The impatience of basketball fans with slow play and low scoring led
to the implementation of the "shot clock." Workers demand
more powerful computers because they hate to wait a few extra seconds
for the microprocessor to do its duty.
Our hurriedness syndrome is pervasive. Behind the wheel of our cars,
we behave like revved-up NASCAR racers. The concept of a "speed
limit" has become an oxymoron. A yellow light at an intersection
has become a signal to speed up rather than slow down. Highway congestion
spurs road rage. Airline passengers seethe at late flights and grouse
at passengers who take their time leaving the plane after landing.
Yet while we are preoccupied with saving time, we seem to be fighting
a losing battle. People constantly complain about how busy they are
and how little free time they have. The frenetic pace of daily life
keeps all of us in a constant state of overdrive. Where does all the
time go?
In a new book titled Faster: The Acceleration of Everyday Life, James
Gleick, the former science editor for the New York Times, examines
the "hurriedness" phenomenon and offers insights into our
obsession with time. He discovered, for instance, that Americans on
average sleep seven hours and 18 minutes a day, about a 20 percent
reduction from a century ago. Women spend four hours of the average
day on housework, and men less than two. We watch television for three
hours a day, almost twice the amount spent in 1965. If we have a computer,
we are on line an average of 90 minutes. We spend one hour eating
a day, 52 minutes on the phone, 41 minutes reading, 29 minutes talking,
16 minutes searching for things we have lost, and seven minutes caring
for pets and plants. Finally, Americans on average spend four minutes
a day having sex, about the same amount of time we spend complying
with government regulations. Talk about misplaced priorities!
Gleick observes that white-collar professionals seek to mimic the
ability of computers to per-form multiple functions simultaneously.
Busyness for such "multi-taskers," has become a badge of
honor, the latest form of social status. "The more time you have
on your hands," Gleick says, "the less important you must
be."
Yet however much we complain about our overloaded schedules, we are
addicted to velocity and to hurry. "We're all perpetrators and
we're all victims," Gleick writes. "We can't stop ourselves
from going to the beach with a cell phone tucked in our bathing suits."
Humans, he adds, "have chosen speed and we thrive on it-more
than we generally admit. Our ability to work fast and play fast gives
us power. It thrills us. . . . We choose mania over boredom every
time."
Gleick's assertions ring true. Yet those opting for the fast lane
may unwittingly be running in circles. As Joni Mitchell used to sing,
"We're captive on the carousel of time." We all need to
insert some speed humps in the roadway of our lives. And we need to
ask ourselves why we prefer frenzy to serenity, lickety split to leisure.
"Why should we," Henry David Thoreau asked in Walden, "live
with such hurry and waste of life?" Why indeed.
-- By David E. Shi
Shi is president of Furman University and author of The Simple Life: Plain Living and High Thinking in American Culture.
#########
# 213, 4-11-00