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I’d tell you more but I’m soooo busy

By Ed Goldman

While some of us are disappointed that Generation Z hasn’t picked up very much from the rest of us (Generations Old), one thing I’m glad that young people are skipping is saying they’re always “swamped.”

Most of them probably aren’t, but that’s not my point. Even though the rest of us consistently say we are, we really aren’t. —Well, sometimes we are. But not as often as we say we are.

For the past 30 years or more, it’s been a badge of honor, a certificate of merit or at least worthy of a Peet’s gift card to report how tight our schedules are. And how little sleep we get by on. Or how early we arise in the morning. 

To be sure, it’s a cultural trope. But it’s also an economic indicator—or, if you prefer, a class divider. For example, no matter how many hours our house cleaners and gardeners might put in over the course of a week, I never hear them say, “I’m swamped” when I call. Oh, they might legitimately be “scheduled up.” But they never say they’re “swamped.” I think you have to make a certain amount of money per annum before you’re allowed to say you’re “swamped.”

The same thing happens—or, rather, doesn’t happen— when we’re dining out and signal to our waiters that we’re ready to order. We don’t expect them to say, “Love to take that for you, but I’m swamped.” Nor do we expect a lifeguard to say that when we’re drowning. Or even worse (if they spend much time with waiters), to say, “Sorry, you’re not drowning in my station.”

You may have observed my omitting contractors, plumbers and locksmiths from the ranks of the Never-Say-They’re-Swamped. In my experience, just how swamped any of them ever is usually seems to correspond to my zip code. Which is to say, when I lived in working-class neighborhoods—which were where many of them also lived—they always took down my name when I phoned and said they’d get back to me “in a few. ” But they carefully didn’t specify if “a few” meant minutes, days, weeks, months or that they could maybe drop off an estimate at my funeral, time permitting.

Yet throughout the 20 years I lived in a fairly affluent enclave in my city (the “Fab’ 40s” in East Sacramento if your Google-mapping today’s column and I didn’t hit “Don’t allow” fast enough), it seemed I hadn’t even hung up the phone from my call before they were on my front steps, sometimes with a crew of helpers I didn’t request. 

It also seemed that no matter how small my problem was, they would tell each other (within my earshot) that they’d never encountered anything like this before. Then, turning to me, the group leader would say, “But not to worry. We’ll figure it out.”

This may not seem related to the “swamped” ethic I’m discussing today but it does have some similarities. In both cases, someone’s simply “too busy” to meet with you until, lo! and behold—or should I say, “Hello! You’re on hold!”—they’re not.

I’ll grant you that most physicians with busy practices are legitimately “swamped”—so much so that they often use my appointment time to play “catch up” with their schedules, reducing our one-to-one time by several minutes. 

This happens when I have a 3 p.m. appointment for which I dutifully arrive at (the recommended) 2:30 p.m. to “fill out paperwork,” which takes perhaps four minutes, even if I have carpal tunnel issues that afternoon. 

Then I wait for the doctor in an examining room until 3:45 p.m., at which time I’m diagnosed, prescribed a medication and dismissed, usually by 3:54 p.m. Then I report to the “front desk” to schedule my “follow-up” appointment, which is usually in from six to eight months, depending on the doctor’s vacation schedule.