2011 may be the Year of the Rabbit, but in my family, 2013 is the "Year of the Retirement." In 2013, my older sister and oldest brother will both retire from their employment with the State of California. My brother will have over 40 years of service, my sister over 30. I think I can safely say that the workplace ethos for California state employees of their generation -- Baby Boomers who came of age in the '70's -- can be summed up in a Cee Lo Green song:
"Fuck you."
After years of enduring reorganization after reorganization, watching the incompetent rise to the top such that they ended up being "stupervised," receiving warrants instead of paychecks, dealing with furloughs, pay cuts, and threats to pension and health care benefits banked on more than 30 years ago, and surviving good and bad governors starting with and, ironically enough, ending with Jerry Brown, most California state workers of my brother and sister's generation have had enough. Despite being good at what they do and happy to do it, they no longer want to work in an environment in which state workers are considered to be a tiny step above Bernie Madoff and fair game for political gamesmanship, especially if there is no incremental benefit to their pension or other retirement benefits for continuing to hang in there.
In their minds, a deal's a deal. They came to work for the state when they were young, realizing that what they gave up in salary they balanced with job security and benefits, and they came to work and did what they were supposed to do to get what they were promised. Now, thirty-plus years in, the state wants to re-examine the deal. In their minds, and in the minds of many state workers with tons of service years, they're thinking, "Fuck you. I'll retire first."
And retire they have. Most large California state agencies have been having retirement parties almost every other week, I hear tell.
So, in 2013, my brother and my sister will retire from state service. Not stop working altogether, mind you, but retire from state service. Both of them intend to use the next phase of their lives to do something different and new.
Although they're not party types, I would love to give them a joint retirement party to celebrate their combined 70-plus years of service.
And the first song I'd have the deejay play?
You guessed it: "Fuck you."
Hear it here.
Showing posts with label CA state worker furlough. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CA state worker furlough. Show all posts
The Benefits of Being Raised Black: Who Promised You "Fair"?
Who promised you "fair"? Well, they lied to you.
- My late mother's response whenever I said, "That's not fair."
When I read the California Supreme Court's decision upholding the state employee furloughs, of course I was mad because the legal reasoning was so twisted. The justices clearly reached high into the far recesses of their collective behinds to pull out that decision. Before I could complete my thought of, "That's not fair," the voice of my late mother, She Who Is Exalted (SWIE), came into my head:
"Who promised you 'fair'? Well, they lied to you."
At that point, I laughed, thankful for having been raised black.
Black parents don't sugarcoat anything. Life's not fair? Well, who promised you "fair"? Life knocks you down? I'll let you lie there for a little while, but then you have to get back up. Get cheated out of something you worked hard for? The world doesn't owe you a damn thing. Expecting someone to do something for you for free? Ain't nothin' free but Jesus. Do something stupid on the job that everyone else does and get singled out because you're black? Well, that's on you, according to black parents. See, you forgot you were black. Heck, I wasn't even allowed to believe in Santa Claus because my mom wasn't going to give some old guy the credit for putting Christmas presents under the tree that SHE paid for.
Growing up black means growing up expecting life to be unfair and learning to "build a bridge and get over it," as one of my nephews would say. Black parents teach you to expect unfairness because NOT to teach you this would be a disservice to you, leaving you unprepared for how the world REALLY works. Black children are taught to be resilient in the face of unfairness because life is unfair, and life for black people tends to be really unfair. You'd be crazy or depressed if you perpetually expected fairness as a black person.
So when arguably unfair things like the California Supreme Court's decision happen, you learn to shrug it off, laugh, and build a bridge and get over it.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.
- My late mother's response whenever I said, "That's not fair."
When I read the California Supreme Court's decision upholding the state employee furloughs, of course I was mad because the legal reasoning was so twisted. The justices clearly reached high into the far recesses of their collective behinds to pull out that decision. Before I could complete my thought of, "That's not fair," the voice of my late mother, She Who Is Exalted (SWIE), came into my head:
"Who promised you 'fair'? Well, they lied to you."
At that point, I laughed, thankful for having been raised black.
Black parents don't sugarcoat anything. Life's not fair? Well, who promised you "fair"? Life knocks you down? I'll let you lie there for a little while, but then you have to get back up. Get cheated out of something you worked hard for? The world doesn't owe you a damn thing. Expecting someone to do something for you for free? Ain't nothin' free but Jesus. Do something stupid on the job that everyone else does and get singled out because you're black? Well, that's on you, according to black parents. See, you forgot you were black. Heck, I wasn't even allowed to believe in Santa Claus because my mom wasn't going to give some old guy the credit for putting Christmas presents under the tree that SHE paid for.
Growing up black means growing up expecting life to be unfair and learning to "build a bridge and get over it," as one of my nephews would say. Black parents teach you to expect unfairness because NOT to teach you this would be a disservice to you, leaving you unprepared for how the world REALLY works. Black children are taught to be resilient in the face of unfairness because life is unfair, and life for black people tends to be really unfair. You'd be crazy or depressed if you perpetually expected fairness as a black person.
So when arguably unfair things like the California Supreme Court's decision happen, you learn to shrug it off, laugh, and build a bridge and get over it.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Who Moved My Velveeta?
Last Friday, on a Furlough Friday no less, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger proposed that, instead of furloughs and a 14 percent and change pay cut, state workers take a 10 percent pay cut and no furloughs, citing his growing concern that the furloughs might not be legal (Ya think? Gee, what was your first clue?). My initial response was, to borrow a line from a Schwarzenegger movie, “Fuck you, asshole!” I thought, “He must think I’m Boo Boo the Fool – that I’m going to take a pay cut AND continue to work the same number of hours like nothing’s changed when the legality of the first pay cut is still in question? I don’t think so. Homie don’t play that.”
My dear, sweet sister, the Writing Diva, has expressed her concern for my situation on her blog. Not only do I work for a general fund state agency (those most at the mercy of layoffs and the like), but I have the least amount of seniority in my classification within my agency and I’m third from the bottom in the entire agency in terms of seniority. If layoffs come, I’m screwed and tattooed. I discussed my sister’s concerns for my job security with BMNB, and he was quick to allay her/my fears. “Oh, no, we’re licensed professionals – that means we’ve got a license to go make some money. If the state acts funny, you can go do contract work. You’d make more money doing contract work than you would working for the state, anyway. Or you can go work for the feds – they pay more. Worse comes to worse, we’ll just go back to Colorado. We’ve got options.”
Can you see why I love this man?
After discussing the Governor’s proposal with my state worker siblings and unleashing a steady stream of profane language at the Governor’s unwillingness to avail himself of all the LEGAL options to reduce the state payroll – golden handshakes, hard hiring freezes, reducing all boards to necessary quorums -- I thought back to a book I’d read a long time ago and it hit me:
He’s moved my Velveeta.
I haven’t been in state service long enough to know whether Spencer Johnson’s “Who Moved My Cheese?” became required reading for state workers as it was for private sector employees a decade ago. It’s a fable about two mice and two Littlepeople (the term in the book, not mine) and how they react to change. The mice and the Littlepeople get up every morning, put on their running shoes and jogging suits, and walk through a maze to find cheese, which just happens to be in abundance in Cheese Station C. The mice, Sniff and Scurry, never assume the cheese will always be in Cheese Station C, so they keep their running shoes tied around their necks and their jogging suits on, and they continue to monitor how much cheese there is or isn’t every day while they dine on it. The Littlepeople, Hem and Haw, get comfortable with the cheese always being there to the point that they expect the cheese to always be there. They stop keeping their running shoes tied around their necks and they hang up their jogging suits. Why not? There’s cheese in abundance.
Then, one day, the cheese is gone. How Sniff, Scurry, Hem and Haw react to the loss of cheese is the lesson in dealing with change. I won’t ruin the story for you, but there’s much to learn about change, and fear of change, from it. The cheese, as you can guess, is a metaphor for what motivates you – job security, success, pay, etc. In state service, the cheese is definitely Velveeta – work with lower pay relative not only to private industry but to other government agencies, with difficulty in advancing and getting training, in exchange for better benefits, job security and regular pay. Well, the “Velveeta” has been moved – job security and regular pay are definitely on the chopping block.
I’m not in control of the state budget. I’m not in control of my union. I’m not in control of the judges who will rule on the numerous furlough law suits and, possibly, the pay cut law suits to come.
What I am in control of is how I react to the shifting career sands under my feet. And, perhaps unbeknownst to my dear sister, I’ve been “sniffing” and “scurrying” in anticipation of these changes to the state work force.
I truly believe that the state worker life of my parents’ generation is going to be no more. I foresee a decrease, if not total elimination, of pensions. I see seniority going by the wayside in exchange for job security for the most productive state workers. If the state were truly innovative, it would trash the entire civil service exam system and hire, promote, and fire much like the private sector – a results-oriented approach to human resources. The problem is that those at the top – the appointed folks and the CEAs – don’t want metrics, goals, and consequences like those in the private industry. So there will be two standards – one for those at the top, and a tougher, results-and-production-oriented standard for those on the bottom.
I don’t intend to stay at the bottom. By that, I mean I don’t intend to be at the mercy, financially or otherwise, of those at the top.
Like Sniff, I’ve been sniffing out the coming changes, and like Scurry, I’ve been planning accordingly. I met with a CalPERS representative to find the best way to get service credit and, as a result, the most in pension payments and healthcare benefits in retirement, for the least amount of hard time (time actually working) and money. I set my retirement date from state service, or any CalPERS entity for that matter, based on that information. I’m in Tier 1, so as soon as I vest (I’ll have five years of service credit on May 1), I’ll buy another five years’ service credit at my salary now, which will be the lowest cost assuming that one day salaries will increase. I will possibly do another fifteen years and retire after 20 years of service and an additional 5 years of purchased service credit for a pension benefit of 50% of my average salary for the 3 highest earning years in state service, plus health care benefits. That’s assuming I stick with state service and that the pension and benefits formula stay the same, and I don’t make that assumption; I just make sure I know the best option if it does. In either event, I intend to hang on in state civil service until I vest, since I doubt the state can adopt a budget fast enough or send me a pink slip fast enough to lay me off before May 1. The state doesn’t work that fast. And even if it did, there’s always contract work until I can return to state service and vest.
Like Haw, I’ve asked myself, “What would I do if I weren’t afraid?” and planned accordingly. I’ve been working to expand my knowledge in my small legal field and in other legal fields I find interesting in order to make myself more marketable in the event I do get laid off. I’ve also been studying to take another licensing exam that I won't discuss, and I’m contemplating taking the Colorado bar exam just in case BMNB and I decide to move back to Colorado. A bookstore near where I work is going out of business, and I’ve been stocking up on professional licensing exam books and the like at 50-60 percent discounts. I’m also thinking of doing some teaching on the side now that I’ve had a nice long break from it, and I will be looking into the ethics of returning to the private sector and using what I’ve learned in state government to represent clients before my agency. And I’m still working on my writing and publishing. In other words, I don’t assume that my Velveeta won’t be moved. In fact, I not only assume that the Governor AND the Legislature will move my Velveeta; I assume that I will need to go out and find some new and better Velveeta outside of and in addition to state service Velveeta.
All I know is that I long ago tired of being afraid of what was going to happen – what the Governor and the Legislature were going to do to state workers -- and decided to take control of the one thing I could control – my own human capital. And once I did, I felt a whole lot better. The Writing Diva need not worry.
And when this all shakes out, I fully intend to enjoy some wine with my Velveeta.
My dear, sweet sister, the Writing Diva, has expressed her concern for my situation on her blog. Not only do I work for a general fund state agency (those most at the mercy of layoffs and the like), but I have the least amount of seniority in my classification within my agency and I’m third from the bottom in the entire agency in terms of seniority. If layoffs come, I’m screwed and tattooed. I discussed my sister’s concerns for my job security with BMNB, and he was quick to allay her/my fears. “Oh, no, we’re licensed professionals – that means we’ve got a license to go make some money. If the state acts funny, you can go do contract work. You’d make more money doing contract work than you would working for the state, anyway. Or you can go work for the feds – they pay more. Worse comes to worse, we’ll just go back to Colorado. We’ve got options.”
Can you see why I love this man?
After discussing the Governor’s proposal with my state worker siblings and unleashing a steady stream of profane language at the Governor’s unwillingness to avail himself of all the LEGAL options to reduce the state payroll – golden handshakes, hard hiring freezes, reducing all boards to necessary quorums -- I thought back to a book I’d read a long time ago and it hit me:
He’s moved my Velveeta.
I haven’t been in state service long enough to know whether Spencer Johnson’s “Who Moved My Cheese?” became required reading for state workers as it was for private sector employees a decade ago. It’s a fable about two mice and two Littlepeople (the term in the book, not mine) and how they react to change. The mice and the Littlepeople get up every morning, put on their running shoes and jogging suits, and walk through a maze to find cheese, which just happens to be in abundance in Cheese Station C. The mice, Sniff and Scurry, never assume the cheese will always be in Cheese Station C, so they keep their running shoes tied around their necks and their jogging suits on, and they continue to monitor how much cheese there is or isn’t every day while they dine on it. The Littlepeople, Hem and Haw, get comfortable with the cheese always being there to the point that they expect the cheese to always be there. They stop keeping their running shoes tied around their necks and they hang up their jogging suits. Why not? There’s cheese in abundance.
Then, one day, the cheese is gone. How Sniff, Scurry, Hem and Haw react to the loss of cheese is the lesson in dealing with change. I won’t ruin the story for you, but there’s much to learn about change, and fear of change, from it. The cheese, as you can guess, is a metaphor for what motivates you – job security, success, pay, etc. In state service, the cheese is definitely Velveeta – work with lower pay relative not only to private industry but to other government agencies, with difficulty in advancing and getting training, in exchange for better benefits, job security and regular pay. Well, the “Velveeta” has been moved – job security and regular pay are definitely on the chopping block.
I’m not in control of the state budget. I’m not in control of my union. I’m not in control of the judges who will rule on the numerous furlough law suits and, possibly, the pay cut law suits to come.
What I am in control of is how I react to the shifting career sands under my feet. And, perhaps unbeknownst to my dear sister, I’ve been “sniffing” and “scurrying” in anticipation of these changes to the state work force.
I truly believe that the state worker life of my parents’ generation is going to be no more. I foresee a decrease, if not total elimination, of pensions. I see seniority going by the wayside in exchange for job security for the most productive state workers. If the state were truly innovative, it would trash the entire civil service exam system and hire, promote, and fire much like the private sector – a results-oriented approach to human resources. The problem is that those at the top – the appointed folks and the CEAs – don’t want metrics, goals, and consequences like those in the private industry. So there will be two standards – one for those at the top, and a tougher, results-and-production-oriented standard for those on the bottom.
I don’t intend to stay at the bottom. By that, I mean I don’t intend to be at the mercy, financially or otherwise, of those at the top.
Like Sniff, I’ve been sniffing out the coming changes, and like Scurry, I’ve been planning accordingly. I met with a CalPERS representative to find the best way to get service credit and, as a result, the most in pension payments and healthcare benefits in retirement, for the least amount of hard time (time actually working) and money. I set my retirement date from state service, or any CalPERS entity for that matter, based on that information. I’m in Tier 1, so as soon as I vest (I’ll have five years of service credit on May 1), I’ll buy another five years’ service credit at my salary now, which will be the lowest cost assuming that one day salaries will increase. I will possibly do another fifteen years and retire after 20 years of service and an additional 5 years of purchased service credit for a pension benefit of 50% of my average salary for the 3 highest earning years in state service, plus health care benefits. That’s assuming I stick with state service and that the pension and benefits formula stay the same, and I don’t make that assumption; I just make sure I know the best option if it does. In either event, I intend to hang on in state civil service until I vest, since I doubt the state can adopt a budget fast enough or send me a pink slip fast enough to lay me off before May 1. The state doesn’t work that fast. And even if it did, there’s always contract work until I can return to state service and vest.
Like Haw, I’ve asked myself, “What would I do if I weren’t afraid?” and planned accordingly. I’ve been working to expand my knowledge in my small legal field and in other legal fields I find interesting in order to make myself more marketable in the event I do get laid off. I’ve also been studying to take another licensing exam that I won't discuss, and I’m contemplating taking the Colorado bar exam just in case BMNB and I decide to move back to Colorado. A bookstore near where I work is going out of business, and I’ve been stocking up on professional licensing exam books and the like at 50-60 percent discounts. I’m also thinking of doing some teaching on the side now that I’ve had a nice long break from it, and I will be looking into the ethics of returning to the private sector and using what I’ve learned in state government to represent clients before my agency. And I’m still working on my writing and publishing. In other words, I don’t assume that my Velveeta won’t be moved. In fact, I not only assume that the Governor AND the Legislature will move my Velveeta; I assume that I will need to go out and find some new and better Velveeta outside of and in addition to state service Velveeta.
All I know is that I long ago tired of being afraid of what was going to happen – what the Governor and the Legislature were going to do to state workers -- and decided to take control of the one thing I could control – my own human capital. And once I did, I felt a whole lot better. The Writing Diva need not worry.
And when this all shakes out, I fully intend to enjoy some wine with my Velveeta.
Ain't No "Yum-O" In This GD Cookbook!
As infrequently as I make guest appearances in my own kitchen, there ought to be klieg lights, a makeup artist, a director and a dialogue coach when I show up. Cooking on a regular, sustained basis requires planning and creativity I just don't care to develop. But I know I need to. When I think of what BMNB and I spend eating out -- mind you, we spend a lot less than we did before the furlough -- I could easily feed us for a lot less on $ .99 per lb chickens from Safeway and the like. Again, planning and creativity. Mind you, my mom used to put a meal for eight on the table seven days a week when I was a child. I have no excuse.
I was reading an article on Slate.com about using coupons to get free groceries and after trolling forums I found out about this cookbook entitled -- get this -- "Get In The Kitchen, Bit@hes!". This cookbook is described as "not your Grandma's cookbook." If you visit the author's website, and click on "The Book" tab, you'll be greeted thusly:
Tired of all the cookbooks written by wholesome and sweet chefs that make you want to smack them in the face with a frying pan?
Well… you’re in luck! I’m not gonna coddle you, hold your hand or even tell you that you look hot in an apron. I’m not your momma, sweetheart. I’m your daddy!
Stop wasting money eating out and ordering in. Don’t have the time to cook? Don’t like cooking? Quit your damn whining and Get in the Kitchen!
Just the prompt I needed. There's a free recipe page with entrees the likes of "Love You Long Time Pork Ribs," "Poke Me Pork," and "Trailer Park Chicken Marsala." I haven't tried any yet -- I'm going to try the "Love You Long Time Pork Ribs" -- but just the idea of the book, along with its recipe difficulty rating system -- "Dumb Ass" (easiest), "The Little Chef That Could" (more difficult), and "Are You Fu#@ing Kidding Me?" (hardest) -- had me almost falling off my chair laughing. If someone could go to this trouble to make cooking this easy AND this funny, I need to make the effort to get in the kitchen. If I like the ribs, I'm definitely buying the book.
Ain't no "Yum-O" in this cookbook, no sirree. I guess this lazy bit@h betta get in the kitchen. Between the furloughs, car repairs, vet bills and the holiday season coming up, I need to make a dollar out of 15 cents, starting in the kitchen.
I was reading an article on Slate.com about using coupons to get free groceries and after trolling forums I found out about this cookbook entitled -- get this -- "Get In The Kitchen, Bit@hes!". This cookbook is described as "not your Grandma's cookbook." If you visit the author's website, and click on "The Book" tab, you'll be greeted thusly:
Tired of all the cookbooks written by wholesome and sweet chefs that make you want to smack them in the face with a frying pan?
Well… you’re in luck! I’m not gonna coddle you, hold your hand or even tell you that you look hot in an apron. I’m not your momma, sweetheart. I’m your daddy!
Stop wasting money eating out and ordering in. Don’t have the time to cook? Don’t like cooking? Quit your damn whining and Get in the Kitchen!
Just the prompt I needed. There's a free recipe page with entrees the likes of "Love You Long Time Pork Ribs," "Poke Me Pork," and "Trailer Park Chicken Marsala." I haven't tried any yet -- I'm going to try the "Love You Long Time Pork Ribs" -- but just the idea of the book, along with its recipe difficulty rating system -- "Dumb Ass" (easiest), "The Little Chef That Could" (more difficult), and "Are You Fu#@ing Kidding Me?" (hardest) -- had me almost falling off my chair laughing. If someone could go to this trouble to make cooking this easy AND this funny, I need to make the effort to get in the kitchen. If I like the ribs, I'm definitely buying the book.
Ain't no "Yum-O" in this cookbook, no sirree. I guess this lazy bit@h betta get in the kitchen. Between the furloughs, car repairs, vet bills and the holiday season coming up, I need to make a dollar out of 15 cents, starting in the kitchen.
Y'all Gon' Make Me Lose My Mind . . . .
Y’all gon’ make me lose my house
Up in heh, up in heh
Y’all gon’ make me starve my kids
Up in heh, up in heh
Y’all gon’ make me really flip
Up in heh, up in heh
Where’s my gun? Where’s my clip?
Up in heh, up in heh
- a parody of “Party Up (Up in Heh)”, with apologies to DMX
I try. I mean, I really do try. When famous African Americans do some really dumb stuff, I try to have an open mind and judge fairly. I have been trained to do this by my parents, who always believed that we should judge our own fairly because no one else would.
But I’m really having a hard time judging California Assembly Speaker Karen Bass, and all the other California legislators for that matter, fairly. In a time when general fund state employees and many other state workers are dealing with three furlough days a month, I find it hypocritical at best that Speaker Bass and other legislators would give some legislative staffers raises. Are the Speaker and the legislators really that politically tone deaf to what is supposed to be a budget crisis?
Now, maybe I don’t have all the facts. Maybe these salary increases resulted from promotions, not raises. I hope that’s the case.
But if it isn’t the case, between the Governor setting out layoff scenarios of up to 20,000 state employees and rank-and-file state workers finding it hard to cope with close to a 15% pay cut, I’m surprised that more state workers haven’t gone postal on our legislature and our Governor. Now, as an officer of the court, I can’t encourage or condone violence, or, in the case of state workers, even striking, given the terms of our union contracts. But, to borrow from Chris Rock, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand it.
You can only push people so far before they lose it. I mean really, really lose it.
Do they not get that some state workers might lose their homes behind these furloughs? That there are state workers who are now patronizing food banks in order to feed their children? That most state workers aren’t making $60,000 a year?
I’m surprised that some single parent mom state worker, trying to feed three kids and buy back-to-school clothes on $25,000 a year as an Office Assistant before furloughs, hasn’t tried to stalk the Governor at his public appearances or tried to “meet” him at the Executive Airport as he slithers, uh, I mean, flies, back to Santa Monica. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind, up in heh, up in heh . . . .
I’m surprised that some state worker hasn’t put a “Thinking of You” greeting card at the bottom of her cat’s litter box for a week, retrieved it with gloves, and popped it in an envelope and mailed it to one of the legislators who gave their staff raises. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me go all out, up in heh, up in heh . . . . .
I’m surprised that thousands of purple-shirted state workers haven’t stormed the Capitol chanting “Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind, up in heh, up in heh,” armed with brown paper lunch bags filled with dog poo to be flung at their state leaders. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me act a fool, up in heh, up in heh . . . .
I’m surprised that the Governor and legislators haven’t been egged at their fundraising appearances back in their districts. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me lose my cool, up in heh, up in heh . . . .
I wouldn’t be surprised if, should the Governor make his annual appeal for state employee contributions to the California State Employee Charitable Campaign (CSECC), state employees were to give their contributions directly to CSECC charities, wipe their behinds on their CSECC forms, and send them directly to the Governor. Asking for charitable contributions from the very people whose salaries you cut by almost 15%? Crazy. Yep, I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
I don’t think the Governor and the legislators really get how close they’ve pushed state workers to the edge. You can only push people so far before some really weird and tragic shit jumps off. I couldn’t condone it, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand it.
Up in heh, up in heh
Y’all gon’ make me starve my kids
Up in heh, up in heh
Y’all gon’ make me really flip
Up in heh, up in heh
Where’s my gun? Where’s my clip?
Up in heh, up in heh
- a parody of “Party Up (Up in Heh)”, with apologies to DMX
I try. I mean, I really do try. When famous African Americans do some really dumb stuff, I try to have an open mind and judge fairly. I have been trained to do this by my parents, who always believed that we should judge our own fairly because no one else would.
But I’m really having a hard time judging California Assembly Speaker Karen Bass, and all the other California legislators for that matter, fairly. In a time when general fund state employees and many other state workers are dealing with three furlough days a month, I find it hypocritical at best that Speaker Bass and other legislators would give some legislative staffers raises. Are the Speaker and the legislators really that politically tone deaf to what is supposed to be a budget crisis?
Now, maybe I don’t have all the facts. Maybe these salary increases resulted from promotions, not raises. I hope that’s the case.
But if it isn’t the case, between the Governor setting out layoff scenarios of up to 20,000 state employees and rank-and-file state workers finding it hard to cope with close to a 15% pay cut, I’m surprised that more state workers haven’t gone postal on our legislature and our Governor. Now, as an officer of the court, I can’t encourage or condone violence, or, in the case of state workers, even striking, given the terms of our union contracts. But, to borrow from Chris Rock, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand it.
You can only push people so far before they lose it. I mean really, really lose it.
Do they not get that some state workers might lose their homes behind these furloughs? That there are state workers who are now patronizing food banks in order to feed their children? That most state workers aren’t making $60,000 a year?
I’m surprised that some single parent mom state worker, trying to feed three kids and buy back-to-school clothes on $25,000 a year as an Office Assistant before furloughs, hasn’t tried to stalk the Governor at his public appearances or tried to “meet” him at the Executive Airport as he slithers, uh, I mean, flies, back to Santa Monica. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind, up in heh, up in heh . . . .
I’m surprised that some state worker hasn’t put a “Thinking of You” greeting card at the bottom of her cat’s litter box for a week, retrieved it with gloves, and popped it in an envelope and mailed it to one of the legislators who gave their staff raises. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me go all out, up in heh, up in heh . . . . .
I’m surprised that thousands of purple-shirted state workers haven’t stormed the Capitol chanting “Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind, up in heh, up in heh,” armed with brown paper lunch bags filled with dog poo to be flung at their state leaders. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me act a fool, up in heh, up in heh . . . .
I’m surprised that the Governor and legislators haven’t been egged at their fundraising appearances back in their districts. I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
Y’all gon’ make me lose my cool, up in heh, up in heh . . . .
I wouldn’t be surprised if, should the Governor make his annual appeal for state employee contributions to the California State Employee Charitable Campaign (CSECC), state employees were to give their contributions directly to CSECC charities, wipe their behinds on their CSECC forms, and send them directly to the Governor. Asking for charitable contributions from the very people whose salaries you cut by almost 15%? Crazy. Yep, I couldn’t condone it, but I would understand it.
I don’t think the Governor and the legislators really get how close they’ve pushed state workers to the edge. You can only push people so far before some really weird and tragic shit jumps off. I couldn’t condone it, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand it.
The Golden Butt Kick
It ain’t over for me
No it ain’t over for me
I’ma step up my game and get what’s comin’ to me . . .
“It Ain’t Over,” from the movie “Hustle and Flow"
Any moment now, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger will sign yet another stop-gap state budget that now incorporates three furlough days per month for most state civil service employees. The possibility of four of five furlough days per month in the next budget cycle looms.
As one of my college friends used to say, “Whoopdee shit.”
If I thought for a moment that every single state employee, whether they work for an agency or the Legislature OR AS A LEGISLATOR, was going to be furloughed three days a month or face equivalent salary cuts, the furloughs might be palatable. If I thought for a moment that the furloughs were a temporary stop-gap measure intended only to close the budget gap, maybe I could get with them.
But I have it on good authority that the furloughs aren’t intended just to deal with short-term budget shortfalls. Au contraire, Pierre stateworker. The furloughs are intended to get rid of stateworkers, period.
The kind folks at the Department of Finance, whose quant jocks have done all the projections to determine how many furlough days it would take to get stateworkers off the payroll without paying unemeployment benefits, refer to the furloughs, with laughter no less, as “The Golden Butt Kick.”
Anyone with any significant history with California civil service knows that in times past, the state has rid itself of excess state workers by offering “The Golden Handshake,” whereby state workers within shooting range of the minimum service credits needed for retirement were given service credits merely for saying an early goodbye to state service. I would presume that many stateworkers were waiting for a Golden Handshake this time around.
Instead, we got The Golden Butt Kick.
And it’s working. My sister who works at a state agency has been seeing an increase in retirement parties where she works. Anyone who can afford to get out of state civil service is going. Attorneys like myself, already underpaid relative to other government attorneys, are looking for opportunities with the federal government or other local entities. It simply doesn’t make sense if you are at the height of your earning years not to look around to see if you have other options, especially if you are highly educated or have special skills. Why take a pay cut if you don’t have to?
And so it goes for me. I’m looking. Consider my butt kicked. It would be sheer financial foolishness for me to continue to subsidize the State of California with my lower wages for stupidity not of my making, especially if I can find something that pays as much as I used to make before the furloughs. I’m not greedy; I just want what I had before. And it would be stupid for me not to look around and see if I can get it.
It’s especially galling for those of us who played by all the financial rules. BMNB and I waited to buy our house until the boom was over. In the interim, we saved our money, cut coupons, shopped at Winco, and made no big ticket purchases other than cars necessary to replace our aging vehicles. We buy furniture at the Habitat for Humanity REstore. We haven’t vacationed since we married. We rarely ever use credit cards. To just sit and let the State of California take money out of my pocket because other people were stupid with their money? I don’t think so.
So, in the words of Terrence Howard’s pimp in “Hustle and Flow,” I’ma step up my game and get what’s comin’ to me. And it ain’t no three-day-a-month furlough.
No it ain’t over for me
I’ma step up my game and get what’s comin’ to me . . .
“It Ain’t Over,” from the movie “Hustle and Flow"
Any moment now, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger will sign yet another stop-gap state budget that now incorporates three furlough days per month for most state civil service employees. The possibility of four of five furlough days per month in the next budget cycle looms.
As one of my college friends used to say, “Whoopdee shit.”
If I thought for a moment that every single state employee, whether they work for an agency or the Legislature OR AS A LEGISLATOR, was going to be furloughed three days a month or face equivalent salary cuts, the furloughs might be palatable. If I thought for a moment that the furloughs were a temporary stop-gap measure intended only to close the budget gap, maybe I could get with them.
But I have it on good authority that the furloughs aren’t intended just to deal with short-term budget shortfalls. Au contraire, Pierre stateworker. The furloughs are intended to get rid of stateworkers, period.
The kind folks at the Department of Finance, whose quant jocks have done all the projections to determine how many furlough days it would take to get stateworkers off the payroll without paying unemeployment benefits, refer to the furloughs, with laughter no less, as “The Golden Butt Kick.”
Anyone with any significant history with California civil service knows that in times past, the state has rid itself of excess state workers by offering “The Golden Handshake,” whereby state workers within shooting range of the minimum service credits needed for retirement were given service credits merely for saying an early goodbye to state service. I would presume that many stateworkers were waiting for a Golden Handshake this time around.
Instead, we got The Golden Butt Kick.
And it’s working. My sister who works at a state agency has been seeing an increase in retirement parties where she works. Anyone who can afford to get out of state civil service is going. Attorneys like myself, already underpaid relative to other government attorneys, are looking for opportunities with the federal government or other local entities. It simply doesn’t make sense if you are at the height of your earning years not to look around to see if you have other options, especially if you are highly educated or have special skills. Why take a pay cut if you don’t have to?
And so it goes for me. I’m looking. Consider my butt kicked. It would be sheer financial foolishness for me to continue to subsidize the State of California with my lower wages for stupidity not of my making, especially if I can find something that pays as much as I used to make before the furloughs. I’m not greedy; I just want what I had before. And it would be stupid for me not to look around and see if I can get it.
It’s especially galling for those of us who played by all the financial rules. BMNB and I waited to buy our house until the boom was over. In the interim, we saved our money, cut coupons, shopped at Winco, and made no big ticket purchases other than cars necessary to replace our aging vehicles. We buy furniture at the Habitat for Humanity REstore. We haven’t vacationed since we married. We rarely ever use credit cards. To just sit and let the State of California take money out of my pocket because other people were stupid with their money? I don’t think so.
So, in the words of Terrence Howard’s pimp in “Hustle and Flow,” I’ma step up my game and get what’s comin’ to me. And it ain’t no three-day-a-month furlough.
Until I Freakin' Die - A Spite Pension
Welcome to my mid-life crisis. I have weeks like this one when I question whether I want to continue doing what I do for a living, especially for the entity I do it for – the State of California. Given the 5% pay cut I’m facing next fiscal year in addition to the 9.4% pay cut/unpaid furloughs I’m already experiencing, I’m tempted to continue working for the State of California just until my pension vests, in about a year, just to piss off the top dogs in State bureaucracy and make the actuaries at CalPERS work harder to figure out how much I and my fellow Baby Boomers are going to cost.
See, I’m part of the big pension funding problem the State is going to have to deal with in about 20 years or less. Worse, I’m on the end of the Baby Boom generation. Even worse, my pension, should I stay long enough to vest, will be higher than your average state worker pension because my salary is higher than the average state worker and my pension is, I’m told, calculated under the older, more remunerative Tier 1 formula. My understanding is that if I put in 20 years and retire no earlier than 50 (as if!) I get lifetime health care benefits, too. The pension won’t amount to much, but because it’s a pension, I would be entitled to it and the health care benefits until I freakin’ die.
That should be enough to make the State’s big financial dogs tremble – paying pension and health care benefits to a whole bunch of healthy, elderly and, in my case, hypochondriac Baby Boomers until they decide to shove off the planet. Hell, you can’t get Baby Boomers off the stage, much less off the planet, to wit: Bill Clinton. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the State hire mercenaries from Blackwater to start taking out retired California state workers. It would be cheaper than paying health care benefits and pensions until they freakin’ die. And I'm sure Blackwater wouldn't get caught.
Call mine a "spite pension."
Mind you, there are days when I don’t like practicing law. Even in an advisory capacity, I often feel like I’m at war, constantly having to defend my legal opinions and proposed decisions to other lawyers and my superiors. I constantly allow the perfect to get in the way of the good, as do most lawyers, because you feel there’s little if any room for error in the advice you give. Someone’s going to be making plans based on that advice, so it better be correct. The quest for perfection is tiring at my age. Even a stripper is allowed a little imperfection in her work, a little cellulite without getting booed off the stage. Lawyers, not so much. Added to that is the flaming hatred most Californians have for state civil service employees. I don't remember things being so rabid when my parents worked for the State. It wears on your spirit to be hated just for having the job you have, regardless of whether you do it well.
With the State laying off employees and looking to cut salaries for employees of general fund agencies, which I am (Don’t get it twisted – state employees of the University of California, the California State University system, some special fund agencies, and agencies headed by constitutionally-elected officials have not faced unpaid furloughs), and given my ennui about law practice these days, it’s easy for me to consider laying the foundation for my immediate exit from state service (Any literary agents out there?) so I don't experience any loss of income in the short run. There's no loyalty between the State and its employees these days, and for folks like me, it's like playing financial chicken to see how long you can hold out without getting laid off. But assuming I can avoid being laid off until I vest, I will probably stay with the State for no other reason than to have a source of income, no matter how small, until I freakin’ die. Or at least the claim to one. Oh, and just to piss the State of California off.
In the meantime, I’m gonna try to get really healthy, take dietary supplements, and get in shape so I can live long to enjoy that pension when I’m old. Until I freakin’ die. Just to piss the State off.
Pilates, anyone?
See, I’m part of the big pension funding problem the State is going to have to deal with in about 20 years or less. Worse, I’m on the end of the Baby Boom generation. Even worse, my pension, should I stay long enough to vest, will be higher than your average state worker pension because my salary is higher than the average state worker and my pension is, I’m told, calculated under the older, more remunerative Tier 1 formula. My understanding is that if I put in 20 years and retire no earlier than 50 (as if!) I get lifetime health care benefits, too. The pension won’t amount to much, but because it’s a pension, I would be entitled to it and the health care benefits until I freakin’ die.
That should be enough to make the State’s big financial dogs tremble – paying pension and health care benefits to a whole bunch of healthy, elderly and, in my case, hypochondriac Baby Boomers until they decide to shove off the planet. Hell, you can’t get Baby Boomers off the stage, much less off the planet, to wit: Bill Clinton. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the State hire mercenaries from Blackwater to start taking out retired California state workers. It would be cheaper than paying health care benefits and pensions until they freakin’ die. And I'm sure Blackwater wouldn't get caught.
Call mine a "spite pension."
Mind you, there are days when I don’t like practicing law. Even in an advisory capacity, I often feel like I’m at war, constantly having to defend my legal opinions and proposed decisions to other lawyers and my superiors. I constantly allow the perfect to get in the way of the good, as do most lawyers, because you feel there’s little if any room for error in the advice you give. Someone’s going to be making plans based on that advice, so it better be correct. The quest for perfection is tiring at my age. Even a stripper is allowed a little imperfection in her work, a little cellulite without getting booed off the stage. Lawyers, not so much. Added to that is the flaming hatred most Californians have for state civil service employees. I don't remember things being so rabid when my parents worked for the State. It wears on your spirit to be hated just for having the job you have, regardless of whether you do it well.
With the State laying off employees and looking to cut salaries for employees of general fund agencies, which I am (Don’t get it twisted – state employees of the University of California, the California State University system, some special fund agencies, and agencies headed by constitutionally-elected officials have not faced unpaid furloughs), and given my ennui about law practice these days, it’s easy for me to consider laying the foundation for my immediate exit from state service (Any literary agents out there?) so I don't experience any loss of income in the short run. There's no loyalty between the State and its employees these days, and for folks like me, it's like playing financial chicken to see how long you can hold out without getting laid off. But assuming I can avoid being laid off until I vest, I will probably stay with the State for no other reason than to have a source of income, no matter how small, until I freakin’ die. Or at least the claim to one. Oh, and just to piss the State of California off.
In the meantime, I’m gonna try to get really healthy, take dietary supplements, and get in shape so I can live long to enjoy that pension when I’m old. Until I freakin’ die. Just to piss the State off.
Pilates, anyone?
Citigroup Must Die
Citigroup must die.
I’m not just saying this because they hold my mortgage (which I originated with Wells Fargo, only to have Wells Fargo sell it to Citigroup – bastards!).
I’m saying this because, despite receiving government assistance, despite being told on the down-low that they probably shouldn’t take delivery of new corporate jets after receiving TARP money (see my blog entry, “The Big Pimpin’ Awards, January 30, 2009), Citigroup or Citibank or Citifailure – pick a name – continues to operate as if they were a successful going concern for which its employees should be rewarded, to wit:
(Reuters) - Citigroup Inc (C.N) is paying about $13 million to compensate employees who had been expected to go on various trips that were later canceled, a person familiar with the matter said on Monday.
The bank is paying 1,900 employees of its Primerica Financial Services unit $5,000 each, after canceling a February trip for top agents to a Bahamas resort, according to the person, who declined to be named because the information is not public.
Citigroup also awarded employees of its Smith Barney unit $3.5 million of debit cards in lieu of trips, the person said.
Banks that received taxpayer money have been slashing expenses for events and perks amid growing criticism from politicians about costs they deem wasteful.
Some banks have argued that eliminating certain expenses hurts morale and can put them at a competitive disadvantage.
"During this difficult environment, we have deeply cut employee recognition-based costs, in some instances by 80 percent," Citigroup said in a statement. "We need to reward, retain and develop the best employees of these profitable Citi businesses. In the instance of Primerica, we we're legally obligated to do so."
Hold up, Citiplayas. Slow your roll.
For starters, if you have received any government assistance of any kind to stay in business, you have failed. No one in the organization should be rewarded when the entire organization has failed, whether it’s Smith Barney, Primerica, whoever. When a company is on the ropes, it needs to act conservatively to preserve cash – especially when it’s come out of my taxpaying pocket, HELLOOOOO! In times of crisis, there are no trips, no payouts, nada. You hunker down and try to survive. Just ask any furloughed California state worker. The entire state government has failed, and we furloughed folks are taking in the shorts even though we don’t run a damn thing. It’s the way it goes. We’re supposed to be happy that we even have jobs, and I am.
Second, as you can imagine, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about hurting employee morale at these corporate behemoths. Don’t like it that you’re not getting a trip or a debit card payout? Well, walk then. Try your luck down the street with all the other failing banks. Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split ya. My employee morale is down about 9.3 percent – the amount of the pay cut I took just for the privilege of keeping my job. I sure as hell don’t want to subsidize the employee morale for companies that helped start this whole mortgage debacle in the first place.
What I need from my President is that he stop playing nice. He needs to make like a pimp and get these corporate hos in check. From where I stand, they’re up in my pocket, and they’re out of pocket. Nothing like making an example of the worst one to get the others in line.
That, my friends, is why Citigroup must die.
I’m not just saying this because they hold my mortgage (which I originated with Wells Fargo, only to have Wells Fargo sell it to Citigroup – bastards!).
I’m saying this because, despite receiving government assistance, despite being told on the down-low that they probably shouldn’t take delivery of new corporate jets after receiving TARP money (see my blog entry, “The Big Pimpin’ Awards, January 30, 2009), Citigroup or Citibank or Citifailure – pick a name – continues to operate as if they were a successful going concern for which its employees should be rewarded, to wit:
(Reuters) - Citigroup Inc (C.N) is paying about $13 million to compensate employees who had been expected to go on various trips that were later canceled, a person familiar with the matter said on Monday.
The bank is paying 1,900 employees of its Primerica Financial Services unit $5,000 each, after canceling a February trip for top agents to a Bahamas resort, according to the person, who declined to be named because the information is not public.
Citigroup also awarded employees of its Smith Barney unit $3.5 million of debit cards in lieu of trips, the person said.
Banks that received taxpayer money have been slashing expenses for events and perks amid growing criticism from politicians about costs they deem wasteful.
Some banks have argued that eliminating certain expenses hurts morale and can put them at a competitive disadvantage.
"During this difficult environment, we have deeply cut employee recognition-based costs, in some instances by 80 percent," Citigroup said in a statement. "We need to reward, retain and develop the best employees of these profitable Citi businesses. In the instance of Primerica, we we're legally obligated to do so."
Hold up, Citiplayas. Slow your roll.
For starters, if you have received any government assistance of any kind to stay in business, you have failed. No one in the organization should be rewarded when the entire organization has failed, whether it’s Smith Barney, Primerica, whoever. When a company is on the ropes, it needs to act conservatively to preserve cash – especially when it’s come out of my taxpaying pocket, HELLOOOOO! In times of crisis, there are no trips, no payouts, nada. You hunker down and try to survive. Just ask any furloughed California state worker. The entire state government has failed, and we furloughed folks are taking in the shorts even though we don’t run a damn thing. It’s the way it goes. We’re supposed to be happy that we even have jobs, and I am.
Second, as you can imagine, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about hurting employee morale at these corporate behemoths. Don’t like it that you’re not getting a trip or a debit card payout? Well, walk then. Try your luck down the street with all the other failing banks. Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split ya. My employee morale is down about 9.3 percent – the amount of the pay cut I took just for the privilege of keeping my job. I sure as hell don’t want to subsidize the employee morale for companies that helped start this whole mortgage debacle in the first place.
What I need from my President is that he stop playing nice. He needs to make like a pimp and get these corporate hos in check. From where I stand, they’re up in my pocket, and they’re out of pocket. Nothing like making an example of the worst one to get the others in line.
That, my friends, is why Citigroup must die.
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