You live in a small town in rural Iowa, or Missouri, or Kansas, somewhere in the Midwest where the sun rises and sets over the corn and your father and grandfather somehow made a living from the land, either farming it or working at a processing or meatpacking place. Year after year nothing changes, until you wake up one day and realize that half of your town is addicted to meth. All around you friends and neighbors are either using or making it, or both. How did this happen?
For an intimate look at meth in one small rural town, read Nick Reding's Methland. Reding spent three years living among the residents of Olwein, Iowa, and his ground-floor account of the ways meth spread through and ravaged one community, and the ways that community is trying to rebuild itself, is both engrossing and eye-opening. I won't give away the entire plot, because the book really is worth a read, but I will say that the culprit is both expected and unexpected. The culprit is agribusiness.
The consolidation of smaller family farms into conglomerates displaced people from their traditional livelihoods. This isn't news. Those who didn't farm went to work in plants; while the unionized meatpacking plant operated in Olwein, people could make a living. The shifts were long and the work was repetitive, and many meatpackers relied on speed to get through the day or the week, but the wages could support a lower middle-class life. Union plants were closed, though, and what processing work remained was non-unionized, the wages less than half what they used to be. Using meth became an antidote to despair; dealing meth became an antidote to economic hopelessness.
Food still needed to be processed by cheap labor. For various reasons, Mexican cartels cornered the meth market. Illegal immigrant labor became their distribution network. Illegals can move about undetected, transporting the drug with them. In this way the labor practices of agribusiness both created and sustain the rural meth market. As Reding shows, 20 years ago meth could be a homegrown operation, with a local dealer in control of both manufacturing and distribution. These days the local dealer is just a middleman. Meth manufacture is as consolidated as the production of ground beef, utilizing the same labor force.
Do solutions exist? Read the book to see what Olwein's civic leadership has done to stem the tide. Obviously, the real solutions are economic; only the creation of decent legal jobs can effectively combat an underground economy. Can that happen in Missouri, in Iowa, when more and more of our labor needs are exported each year? I guess that remains to be seen. In the meantime, Olwein awaits.
Showing posts with label capitalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label capitalism. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Our New Target
The resurgent Dow, the Gosselin divorce, corruption in New Jersey (yes, I know "corruption in New Jersey" is redundant), health care reform, none of the news of the day is as big, as meaningful, as life-altering, as the news that our new Target opened over the weekend. People young and old, big and small, poor and not-so-poor crammed the parking lot, jammed the aisles, and packed the check-outs. A new Target! Manna from heaven!
Oh, it's not just a run of the mill Target that I'm talking about. You see, our new Target is a Super Target, where you can purchase groceries along with your Michael Graves corkscrews and Ed Hardy knock-off T-shirts. It occupies what was recently a cornfield, just across the now traffic-congested street from the Super Wal-Mart, next door to the Super Wegman's. As you can see, we needed this Target. Seriously, it's the American way to be able to purchase prepackaged salad in a bag without ever having to make a left turn.
I'm a sucker for Grand Opening loss leaders so of course I went to check out our new mecca. And so I braved the parking lot and the crowds and strolled through the automatic doors to find myself standing inside...a Target. A Target just like all the other Targets within easy driving distance except that, if one is feeling exceptionally brave and doesn't care about the provinance of the food that one puts into one's body, one can purchase some cheap steak. All that hope, all that desire, all that anticipation, and all that results is a Target.
Life goes on, unchanged. The sun still rises and sets, my cat still vomits hairballs on a nightly basis, it still rains or doesn't rain, I still wish I could bring myself to lower my cable bill. The Super Target has accomplished nothing, save the destruction of a perfectly useful field. Six months ago a Sonic opened just up the street from this new Target, and for days cars clogged the street as hungry hoardes descended. The hoardes were rewarded at the end of their hour-long wait with a fast food burger.
Well, this is, after all, the oldest trick in marketing. Same old tired product? Change the packaging.
Oh, it's not just a run of the mill Target that I'm talking about. You see, our new Target is a Super Target, where you can purchase groceries along with your Michael Graves corkscrews and Ed Hardy knock-off T-shirts. It occupies what was recently a cornfield, just across the now traffic-congested street from the Super Wal-Mart, next door to the Super Wegman's. As you can see, we needed this Target. Seriously, it's the American way to be able to purchase prepackaged salad in a bag without ever having to make a left turn.
I'm a sucker for Grand Opening loss leaders so of course I went to check out our new mecca. And so I braved the parking lot and the crowds and strolled through the automatic doors to find myself standing inside...a Target. A Target just like all the other Targets within easy driving distance except that, if one is feeling exceptionally brave and doesn't care about the provinance of the food that one puts into one's body, one can purchase some cheap steak. All that hope, all that desire, all that anticipation, and all that results is a Target.
Life goes on, unchanged. The sun still rises and sets, my cat still vomits hairballs on a nightly basis, it still rains or doesn't rain, I still wish I could bring myself to lower my cable bill. The Super Target has accomplished nothing, save the destruction of a perfectly useful field. Six months ago a Sonic opened just up the street from this new Target, and for days cars clogged the street as hungry hoardes descended. The hoardes were rewarded at the end of their hour-long wait with a fast food burger.
Well, this is, after all, the oldest trick in marketing. Same old tired product? Change the packaging.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Waiting On My Bonus
Our tax dollars are hard at work, paying performance bonuses to AIG executives. The debate over whether or not the bonuses should have been paid is now three days old and makes me sleepy, so I'm not going to join in. Instead, I would like to formally request that the federal government pay me a bonus for my stellar 2008 fiscal and executive performance. The highlights:
1. Having bought a new house in September 2007, I attempted to sell my old house at precisely the wrong time, and listed said house for too much money. In 2008, I continued to be unable to sell the old house and watched its value plummet. However, I did find tenants for the house, turning what was a street of homeowners into a street with a rental property and thereby further eroding the value of that particular asset. Bonus time!
2. I sold my business in August, 2008 and began looking for work in the fall, at precisely the time when the financial crisis hit hard. In other words, I have been looking for work in the middle of nationwide hiring freezes. However, because I was self-employed I do not qualify for unemployment benefits. My lack of employment is in this sense actually bringing added value to the American taxpayer by not costing him a cent. For this lack of planning and foresight I should be rewarded.
3. When my investments lost 35% of their value through the end of last October, I decided that the bottom had clearly arrived and let everything be, single-handedly averting a complete panic. Those assets have since lost even more value, demonstrating the sheer idiocy of a laissez-faire attitude toward the markets. This is precisely the kind of performance that cries out for a bonus.
4. Although I am careful to pay as little in taxes as possible, I believe I am entitled to receive much more in return than I could possibly put in over my lifetime. Isn't that how markets work? Where's my payout?
Surely these arguments are as persuasive as any given by the AIG Corporate Communications office. I shall assume that my check is in the mail.
1. Having bought a new house in September 2007, I attempted to sell my old house at precisely the wrong time, and listed said house for too much money. In 2008, I continued to be unable to sell the old house and watched its value plummet. However, I did find tenants for the house, turning what was a street of homeowners into a street with a rental property and thereby further eroding the value of that particular asset. Bonus time!
2. I sold my business in August, 2008 and began looking for work in the fall, at precisely the time when the financial crisis hit hard. In other words, I have been looking for work in the middle of nationwide hiring freezes. However, because I was self-employed I do not qualify for unemployment benefits. My lack of employment is in this sense actually bringing added value to the American taxpayer by not costing him a cent. For this lack of planning and foresight I should be rewarded.
3. When my investments lost 35% of their value through the end of last October, I decided that the bottom had clearly arrived and let everything be, single-handedly averting a complete panic. Those assets have since lost even more value, demonstrating the sheer idiocy of a laissez-faire attitude toward the markets. This is precisely the kind of performance that cries out for a bonus.
4. Although I am careful to pay as little in taxes as possible, I believe I am entitled to receive much more in return than I could possibly put in over my lifetime. Isn't that how markets work? Where's my payout?
Surely these arguments are as persuasive as any given by the AIG Corporate Communications office. I shall assume that my check is in the mail.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
A Rant About General Motors
I read once that we experience time inverse to our metabolic rate. When you're a kid, with a high metabolism, time seems to stretch forever: Santa will never arrive, summers seem without end. When we're middle-aged, on the other hand, with a slowed metabolism, we can blink and a week has passed. I realized this morning though that time seems to pass so quickly once we become adults simply because more and more of it gets sucked into the vacuum of frustrating stupidity. But two hours dealing with General Motors will do that to a person.
The driver's window on my Saab has a recurring problem. When you close it using the "one touch" button it taps the top, then goes a quarter of the way down. In order to get it to close you have to simultaneously press the child lock button while you hold the window button, an operation that takes two hands. I first experienced this problem a year after purchasing the car. While it was under warranty the dealer "fixed" the sensor with a "software patch" five times. This was last "fixed" last March, and is broken again.
Now that the car is no longer under warranty, Saab has put out a "service bulletin" noting that software patches probably don't work and that what's needed is a new window motor. Duh. So I called demanding that I get a new motor for that window, since this is a recurring problem that has existed since the day I purchased the car. After an hour with the customer care rep, it was decided that I "probably" have a case, but that a dealer needs to provide an official diagnosis to Saab USA (since I'm not under warranty I've been dealing with a mechanic, not the dealer). OK, except I have to pay for the diagnosis.
Another hour of my life was wasted with my arguing that if the diagnosis is in fact that this is the recurring problem that my service records indicate it is I should not have to pay for said diagnosis. If it turns out to be a different problem, fine, I'll pay, but I should not have to pay up front and then hope for some kind of refund. No dice. If I want to have a $35,000 car with a functioning window I also have to fork over $67/hour for a diagnosis to prove that the window has a well-recorded recurring problem.
I have just lost another half hour of my life composing this rant. Sure, my metabolic rate's gradual decline might be hastening the passing of days, but mornings spent like this also play a part. Also, note to Detroit: it's things like this that lead Americans to buy Japanese cars.
The driver's window on my Saab has a recurring problem. When you close it using the "one touch" button it taps the top, then goes a quarter of the way down. In order to get it to close you have to simultaneously press the child lock button while you hold the window button, an operation that takes two hands. I first experienced this problem a year after purchasing the car. While it was under warranty the dealer "fixed" the sensor with a "software patch" five times. This was last "fixed" last March, and is broken again.
Now that the car is no longer under warranty, Saab has put out a "service bulletin" noting that software patches probably don't work and that what's needed is a new window motor. Duh. So I called demanding that I get a new motor for that window, since this is a recurring problem that has existed since the day I purchased the car. After an hour with the customer care rep, it was decided that I "probably" have a case, but that a dealer needs to provide an official diagnosis to Saab USA (since I'm not under warranty I've been dealing with a mechanic, not the dealer). OK, except I have to pay for the diagnosis.
Another hour of my life was wasted with my arguing that if the diagnosis is in fact that this is the recurring problem that my service records indicate it is I should not have to pay for said diagnosis. If it turns out to be a different problem, fine, I'll pay, but I should not have to pay up front and then hope for some kind of refund. No dice. If I want to have a $35,000 car with a functioning window I also have to fork over $67/hour for a diagnosis to prove that the window has a well-recorded recurring problem.
I have just lost another half hour of my life composing this rant. Sure, my metabolic rate's gradual decline might be hastening the passing of days, but mornings spent like this also play a part. Also, note to Detroit: it's things like this that lead Americans to buy Japanese cars.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Endurance
What if money was worthless? What would our lives be without money?
I assume none of us would work, or at least not work as we currently understand it. Why slave away in an office if the return is useless paper? We'd only do a job that resulted in tangible returns: food, clothing, fuel. The only jobs that would result in such returns would be jobs that produced something that could in turn be bartered. In other words, we'd work only to produce commodities that could be exchanged for other commodities. Press releases and brochures are not such commodities, so if I wanted to work, I'd need to change careers fast.
Very few of us have any experience producing commodities these days, though. Those of us who now hold production or manufacturing jobs, those of us who now do the manual labor and are not the best compensated, would become those who are best equipped to survive. White collar workers, on the other hand, will be relegated to the bottom of the food chain. Us white collar workers won't have jobs to go to, anyway. If money is worthless, we won't need bankers, investment advisors, insurance agents, analysts. We won't need people to sit in chairs all day emailing and taking meetings.
I assume we'll be allowed to stay in our houses since the "banks," which won't be around anymore, won't have any use for a nation full of empty structures. All of us white collar workers will have to learn to grow our own food if we want to have something to eat, and if we want to possess a commodity that we can barter. The only way to have fuel in the winter will be to produce food in the summer. Maybe more of us will take up hunting, assuming we have something to trade for the bullets and the guns. Now that I think about it, a thinning of the deer population around my house would be one positive outcome of the total unraveling of our economy.
If we have nothing to barter with, we won't have any gas for our cars. We'll walk everywhere, or use what public transportation is available (I assume the government will try to put people to work by trading surplus grain and cheese for labor). The end of our economy would be good for the environment not only because we would of necessity produce as much of our own food as possible, thereby ending agribusiness, but also because we'd stop burning so much fossil fuel. With nothing to trade for heating oil or gas or for electricity, those of us with fireplaces would gather wood and brush to burn, ending the production of yard waste. Waste in general would be a thing of the past. Cans and bottles would also once again become commodities, things to be reused rather than discarded.
Without money, we'd end up knowing each other better, more intimately. Electricity is a commodity that will be available only to those who can generate it themselves or trade something for it. Until the day that each of us has our own solar panel and/or windmill, or some sort of hydroelectric system, we'll live with periods of darkness when we can't afford to power our computers and televisions. We'll turn to each other for entertainment and information, we'll rely on personal interactions. We'll live closer together in order to have access to information and resources, thereby ending sprawl.
Sure, life would be harder, much as it was harder hundreds or thousands of years ago. Access to medicine and education would be limited. The rule of law would be harder to enforce. In many ways, it would suck. But if money was worthless, I would never have to spend another day like this one, thinking about the fact that I need to find a job.
I assume none of us would work, or at least not work as we currently understand it. Why slave away in an office if the return is useless paper? We'd only do a job that resulted in tangible returns: food, clothing, fuel. The only jobs that would result in such returns would be jobs that produced something that could in turn be bartered. In other words, we'd work only to produce commodities that could be exchanged for other commodities. Press releases and brochures are not such commodities, so if I wanted to work, I'd need to change careers fast.
Very few of us have any experience producing commodities these days, though. Those of us who now hold production or manufacturing jobs, those of us who now do the manual labor and are not the best compensated, would become those who are best equipped to survive. White collar workers, on the other hand, will be relegated to the bottom of the food chain. Us white collar workers won't have jobs to go to, anyway. If money is worthless, we won't need bankers, investment advisors, insurance agents, analysts. We won't need people to sit in chairs all day emailing and taking meetings.
I assume we'll be allowed to stay in our houses since the "banks," which won't be around anymore, won't have any use for a nation full of empty structures. All of us white collar workers will have to learn to grow our own food if we want to have something to eat, and if we want to possess a commodity that we can barter. The only way to have fuel in the winter will be to produce food in the summer. Maybe more of us will take up hunting, assuming we have something to trade for the bullets and the guns. Now that I think about it, a thinning of the deer population around my house would be one positive outcome of the total unraveling of our economy.
If we have nothing to barter with, we won't have any gas for our cars. We'll walk everywhere, or use what public transportation is available (I assume the government will try to put people to work by trading surplus grain and cheese for labor). The end of our economy would be good for the environment not only because we would of necessity produce as much of our own food as possible, thereby ending agribusiness, but also because we'd stop burning so much fossil fuel. With nothing to trade for heating oil or gas or for electricity, those of us with fireplaces would gather wood and brush to burn, ending the production of yard waste. Waste in general would be a thing of the past. Cans and bottles would also once again become commodities, things to be reused rather than discarded.
Without money, we'd end up knowing each other better, more intimately. Electricity is a commodity that will be available only to those who can generate it themselves or trade something for it. Until the day that each of us has our own solar panel and/or windmill, or some sort of hydroelectric system, we'll live with periods of darkness when we can't afford to power our computers and televisions. We'll turn to each other for entertainment and information, we'll rely on personal interactions. We'll live closer together in order to have access to information and resources, thereby ending sprawl.
Sure, life would be harder, much as it was harder hundreds or thousands of years ago. Access to medicine and education would be limited. The rule of law would be harder to enforce. In many ways, it would suck. But if money was worthless, I would never have to spend another day like this one, thinking about the fact that I need to find a job.
Friday, November 14, 2008
The $13 Flight Takes Off
Cheapie Irish airline Ryanair announced last week that it plans to offer service from it's base outside London to New York, Boston, LA, San Francisco, and some as yet undetermined cities in Florida. The cost? Ten euros, currently around 13 bucks. I'm assuming that's one way, but still, that seems too good to be true. Of course, this apparently is too good to be true, since Ryanair charges fees for everything from checking in at a counter to speaking with an agent. Add in the fees and you still have a round-trip flight to England for, say, a hundred bucks. Is it worth it?
I've never flown Ryanair, but apparently it out-budgets American budget haulers. The windows don't have shades, the seats don't recline, there's no back pocket in which to stuff smelly sandwiches and boring magazines, and you have to put up with a live version of QVC for the duration of your flight, with attendants hawking everything from beverages and meals to jewlery, watches, and George Foreman grills. OK, the George Foreman grills might be stretching it, but you see my point.
If you're hopping from one European city to another all of this is probably an inconvenience you'll put up with for an hour or two in order to get to your destination cheaply. The question becomes whether enough consumers will be willing to fly for at least six hours without being able to recline their seat, and with what amounts to a live auction going on in front of them. Yes, suddenly we're all poor, and maybe this will be the only way any of us can afford international travel for the next couple of years, if we can afford it at all. On the other hand, maybe I'm just too old for this kind of crap, because I think I'd rather stay home or take a cheap flight to Ft. Lauderdale than spend that number of hours trapped upright in a small seat breathing bad air.
No start date for the service has been announced, because Ryanair has yet to purchase the needed planes. Once it's up and running, we'll see what the market will bear, and how frugal the American consumer can really be.
I've never flown Ryanair, but apparently it out-budgets American budget haulers. The windows don't have shades, the seats don't recline, there's no back pocket in which to stuff smelly sandwiches and boring magazines, and you have to put up with a live version of QVC for the duration of your flight, with attendants hawking everything from beverages and meals to jewlery, watches, and George Foreman grills. OK, the George Foreman grills might be stretching it, but you see my point.
If you're hopping from one European city to another all of this is probably an inconvenience you'll put up with for an hour or two in order to get to your destination cheaply. The question becomes whether enough consumers will be willing to fly for at least six hours without being able to recline their seat, and with what amounts to a live auction going on in front of them. Yes, suddenly we're all poor, and maybe this will be the only way any of us can afford international travel for the next couple of years, if we can afford it at all. On the other hand, maybe I'm just too old for this kind of crap, because I think I'd rather stay home or take a cheap flight to Ft. Lauderdale than spend that number of hours trapped upright in a small seat breathing bad air.
No start date for the service has been announced, because Ryanair has yet to purchase the needed planes. Once it's up and running, we'll see what the market will bear, and how frugal the American consumer can really be.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Market Research
Last week, as I was in the middle of cooking something or other, the phone rang. Because I was distracted, I let the market researcher talk for a few minutes, forgetting even to ask why he was calling someone on the "Do Not Call" list. His company was doing market research on a new TV show, he explained. Would I be willing to watch a pilot and answer a few questions about it? Sure, I replied. I mean, we all know how much I love crappy TV.
I was told the DVD would arrive Monday, October 13, and that I had to watch the show Monday, October 13 for whatever reason. UPS dutifully delivered a package to my door yesterday afternoon. It contained a DVD, instructions, and two sealed surveys. I was told to open and complete the first survey before watching the pilot. I figured this would contain questions about my demographic profile and about what shows I currently watch and enjoy. I guess I'm just a naive idiot; it was a survey asking me about my brand preferences for such things as canned tuna and fabric softener.
Because the survey contained no words, just photographs of various name brands (I put a check next to the photo of my favorite brand in each category), the good news was that this took up only approximately 43 seconds of my day. Time to watch the pilot. Judging from the clothing and horrible "jokes," I'd say that this pilot was shot approximately 10 years ago. There's a reason why it was never picked up: it sucked. It sucked with an awfulness apparent even before the end of the opening teaser. I was asked a total of five questions about the show, which I answered within two minutes of pushing "play."
In order to ensure "the complete attention of the viewer" the DVD's rewind and fast forward features had been disabled. I soon discovered the real reason these features had been disabled: this pilot came complete with commercials, so many commercials that it's length was about 40 minutes, rather than the 30 minutes running time of a network situation comedy. Of course, I couldn't skip these commercials. And yes, the ads were for many of the products that had been featured in the pre-show survey.
After I was done folding laundry and brushing the cat the show was over. Time to fill out the post-viewing survey. It was the same as the pre-viewing survey. Exactly the same. I filled it out with exactly the same answers. What was the purpose of this exercise? It appears that the market research company is trying to find out how effective these commercials are. Would my preference for Downy change to a preference to Bounce after watching an ad? Did the happy family scarfing down Ortega tacos entice me to switch my allegiance from Old El Paso?
At least that's the only sense I can make of the whole thing. That, or there was no ulterior purpose and it was just a way of getting a bunch of unsuspecting Americans to forcibly watch some commercials. The market research company is calling me at 3:30 this afternoon to ask me some questions about the "pilot." I can't wait to talk to whoever is assigned the task of calling me. I have some questions of my own, after all. How much did each advertiser pay for this? Is this the most cost-effective way of marketing? What percentage of participants see through this charade? What percentage of those who see through it are angry? Aren't I on the "Do Not Call" list? Does this mean that television as a medium for delivering commercial messages as we now know them is dead? If we go entirely to product placement and "branded entertainment," what happens to the 30-second commercial? Is this what happens to it?
Bring it on, market research company. I can't wait to talk to you some more.
I was told the DVD would arrive Monday, October 13, and that I had to watch the show Monday, October 13 for whatever reason. UPS dutifully delivered a package to my door yesterday afternoon. It contained a DVD, instructions, and two sealed surveys. I was told to open and complete the first survey before watching the pilot. I figured this would contain questions about my demographic profile and about what shows I currently watch and enjoy. I guess I'm just a naive idiot; it was a survey asking me about my brand preferences for such things as canned tuna and fabric softener.
Because the survey contained no words, just photographs of various name brands (I put a check next to the photo of my favorite brand in each category), the good news was that this took up only approximately 43 seconds of my day. Time to watch the pilot. Judging from the clothing and horrible "jokes," I'd say that this pilot was shot approximately 10 years ago. There's a reason why it was never picked up: it sucked. It sucked with an awfulness apparent even before the end of the opening teaser. I was asked a total of five questions about the show, which I answered within two minutes of pushing "play."
In order to ensure "the complete attention of the viewer" the DVD's rewind and fast forward features had been disabled. I soon discovered the real reason these features had been disabled: this pilot came complete with commercials, so many commercials that it's length was about 40 minutes, rather than the 30 minutes running time of a network situation comedy. Of course, I couldn't skip these commercials. And yes, the ads were for many of the products that had been featured in the pre-show survey.
After I was done folding laundry and brushing the cat the show was over. Time to fill out the post-viewing survey. It was the same as the pre-viewing survey. Exactly the same. I filled it out with exactly the same answers. What was the purpose of this exercise? It appears that the market research company is trying to find out how effective these commercials are. Would my preference for Downy change to a preference to Bounce after watching an ad? Did the happy family scarfing down Ortega tacos entice me to switch my allegiance from Old El Paso?
At least that's the only sense I can make of the whole thing. That, or there was no ulterior purpose and it was just a way of getting a bunch of unsuspecting Americans to forcibly watch some commercials. The market research company is calling me at 3:30 this afternoon to ask me some questions about the "pilot." I can't wait to talk to whoever is assigned the task of calling me. I have some questions of my own, after all. How much did each advertiser pay for this? Is this the most cost-effective way of marketing? What percentage of participants see through this charade? What percentage of those who see through it are angry? Aren't I on the "Do Not Call" list? Does this mean that television as a medium for delivering commercial messages as we now know them is dead? If we go entirely to product placement and "branded entertainment," what happens to the 30-second commercial? Is this what happens to it?
Bring it on, market research company. I can't wait to talk to you some more.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
It Figures
My car came with a four-year warranty (Did you know that this is the correct spelling, rather than "warrantee"? Neither did I), which expired on September 29. Monday. When I started the car Tuesday, both headlights burned out and the check engine light went on. Are manufacturers really that smart? And if they are that smart, why are automakers losing money left and right? That's all I have to say today.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Here's a Bucket, Start Bailing
Brody and I are getting ready for our road trip to Virginia. I'm nearly certain that the Amherst Motor Inn will not feature free internet, or any internet, for that matter, so I'll be offline until Monday. I'm hoping that while I'm gone the Senate Banking Committee decides to give me a bailout. It's true, I haven't done anything to damage our entire economic system, and in that sense I'm not the most deserving among us, but I could use a bailout nonetheless. In exchange for a truly modest sum, the American taxpayers can have an equity stake in the home Countrywide and I co-own. It's a really good deal for everyone. I think taxpayers like me would be better served with a stake in my mid-century modern house (it's got central air! and a garage!) than with a percentage of AIG or some tottering investment bank. Why buy failing securities when we can buy a nice three-bed, one and a half bath with fireplace and hardwood floors? I'll even throw in partial ownership of my cat, if Chuck Shumer wants me to. He's a nice cat, and he'd be proud to be partially owned by the American taxpayer.
Come on, Senate Banking Committee. Stop talking and bail me out already.
Come on, Senate Banking Committee. Stop talking and bail me out already.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Another Report from the Economic Front
Brody ran through the woods Saturday and emerged looking like Julius Caesar, wearing a crown of brambles plastered around his head and to his ears, so I did something I don't ordinarily do: I went to the mall, to get a flea comb to help remove said brambles. School starts today or tomorrow all over the region, so I expected the mall to be crowded with kids and parents buying clothes and whatever. The place was crowded, but it didn't look like too many people were actually buying anything. Maybe the crowds were all there to steal vacuum cleaners.
When money's tight, puppies are probably down there on the bottom of a shopping list. The puppies at the mall pet store therefore tended to be much older than eight weeks, and to be on sale. It's never good to be a puppy in a pet store, but the present economic environment would seem to make it an even worse lot in life. Because the store happened to have a Brittany pup, I spent a few minutes visiting with him and finding out about his history. He's six months old, came from a puppy mill in Oklahoma, and had been shuttled around from store to store; this was his fourth pet store. I asked what happens to puppies they aren't able to sell, but the salesperson claimed not to know. I probably don't want to know the answer anyway. The Brittany was on sale for $399, with an additional $78 off Saturday afternoon.
So, no one was buying pets. While I was there, I thought I'd look for new pair of jeans. Jeans shopping is the bane of the American woman, or at least of this American woman, so it's important to follow through while an urge exists. I went to one of the department stores to check out the selection. The department store was essentially empty; the crowds were circling the mall itself, but not flowing into this particular store at all. I don't blame them, since all I found there were a bunch of Mom jeans. On to American Eagle.
This store was full of teenagers and their mothers pawing through the merchandise, but I was alone back in the dressing area. As crowded as was the store, I was also alone at the cash register, where I found that my jeans were not only on sale, but that I could get a second pair at half off. In other words, people weren't buying despite a pretty impressive sale.
I stopped at the Gap on my way out, just because everything in that store is perpetually marked down to ridiculous levels, and sure enough I found a nice blouse for $7.99. I also found an actual line at the cash register, three people ahead of me, all buying items marked down below ten bucks. Good news for the Gap, a company that has been battered in recent years: it was the only store making sales that afternoon. Bad news for the Gap: everything purchased was on clearance.
I've never been a retailer, but I do know that we are entering the crucial time of year for retailers, that mid-August through Christmas is the time when all the profit for the year is made. If Saturday was any indication, the last quarter of 08 is going to be a bumpy ride.
When money's tight, puppies are probably down there on the bottom of a shopping list. The puppies at the mall pet store therefore tended to be much older than eight weeks, and to be on sale. It's never good to be a puppy in a pet store, but the present economic environment would seem to make it an even worse lot in life. Because the store happened to have a Brittany pup, I spent a few minutes visiting with him and finding out about his history. He's six months old, came from a puppy mill in Oklahoma, and had been shuttled around from store to store; this was his fourth pet store. I asked what happens to puppies they aren't able to sell, but the salesperson claimed not to know. I probably don't want to know the answer anyway. The Brittany was on sale for $399, with an additional $78 off Saturday afternoon.
So, no one was buying pets. While I was there, I thought I'd look for new pair of jeans. Jeans shopping is the bane of the American woman, or at least of this American woman, so it's important to follow through while an urge exists. I went to one of the department stores to check out the selection. The department store was essentially empty; the crowds were circling the mall itself, but not flowing into this particular store at all. I don't blame them, since all I found there were a bunch of Mom jeans. On to American Eagle.
This store was full of teenagers and their mothers pawing through the merchandise, but I was alone back in the dressing area. As crowded as was the store, I was also alone at the cash register, where I found that my jeans were not only on sale, but that I could get a second pair at half off. In other words, people weren't buying despite a pretty impressive sale.
I stopped at the Gap on my way out, just because everything in that store is perpetually marked down to ridiculous levels, and sure enough I found a nice blouse for $7.99. I also found an actual line at the cash register, three people ahead of me, all buying items marked down below ten bucks. Good news for the Gap, a company that has been battered in recent years: it was the only store making sales that afternoon. Bad news for the Gap: everything purchased was on clearance.
I've never been a retailer, but I do know that we are entering the crucial time of year for retailers, that mid-August through Christmas is the time when all the profit for the year is made. If Saturday was any indication, the last quarter of 08 is going to be a bumpy ride.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Fine Dining
Today's Times includes a review of a restaurant in Brooklyn that has only two items on the menu: dumplings and Hawaiian shave ice. There's no reasoning behind this other than the fact that the owner likes dumplings, and spent his Hawaiian honeymoon eating shave ice. Once he returned to Brooklyn he missed shave ice, so he decided to serve it at his restaurant.
Most restaurants have a theme, or focus on a particular type of cooking. But it really doesn't have to be that way, does it? A menu can be developed any way at all. If you're going to own a restaurant, why not own one that serves only the food you want to eat? With that in mind, I decided to create a menu comprised of my favorite foods. I'd name the restaurant "Like," because it would be a place I'd like. I wouldn't have any tables. Instead, I'd have a bunch of couches and TVs; diners could eat off the coffee table while watching Big Brother, just like I do at home. Here's the menu; there are no appetizers, salads, entrees, etc., because everything comes in a dinner-sized portion just like at home, where I'm too lazy to cook more than one item for dinner:
Garlic bread
Cantonese noodle soup with wontons
Asparagus
Lobster tail
Spare ribs
Grits
Raw fresh peas
Bagels and lox
Salad greens with goat cheese and candied walnuts
Roasted capon
Twizzlers (strawberry)
Hunks of cheese with one small piece of bread
Wild rice
Ribeye steak
Dark chocolate Klondike bars
Pigs in a blanket
I feel certain this would be the most popular restaurant ever. On the other hand, maybe there's a good reason why I'm not a restauranteur.
Most restaurants have a theme, or focus on a particular type of cooking. But it really doesn't have to be that way, does it? A menu can be developed any way at all. If you're going to own a restaurant, why not own one that serves only the food you want to eat? With that in mind, I decided to create a menu comprised of my favorite foods. I'd name the restaurant "Like," because it would be a place I'd like. I wouldn't have any tables. Instead, I'd have a bunch of couches and TVs; diners could eat off the coffee table while watching Big Brother, just like I do at home. Here's the menu; there are no appetizers, salads, entrees, etc., because everything comes in a dinner-sized portion just like at home, where I'm too lazy to cook more than one item for dinner:
Garlic bread
Cantonese noodle soup with wontons
Asparagus
Lobster tail
Spare ribs
Grits
Raw fresh peas
Bagels and lox
Salad greens with goat cheese and candied walnuts
Roasted capon
Twizzlers (strawberry)
Hunks of cheese with one small piece of bread
Wild rice
Ribeye steak
Dark chocolate Klondike bars
Pigs in a blanket
I feel certain this would be the most popular restaurant ever. On the other hand, maybe there's a good reason why I'm not a restauranteur.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
It's the Stupid, Economy
I read stories about our economic woes in every morning's papers. Everything costs more than it did a year ago, it's a bear market, we're in a recession, blah, blah, blah. Besides annoyance every time I fill my tank, I don't really notice many changes in or around me. My friends and I are all living our lives just the same as we have been; no one has been laid off, no one is entering foreclosure, no one is eating cat food. It took a weekend at the shore to really see the economic downturn in action.
On the macro level, boom and bust were evident everywhere in Wildwood. I have no prior knowledge of the island, but the remnants of the recent housing boom were readily observable. It was clear that the Wildwoods were a working-class resort; most of the housing consisted of modest beach cottages. Many of those cottages had been recently renovated; many of them had been torn down and replaced with larger structures: long, narrow, three or four story multi-unit condos. I didn't walk down a single block that didn't feature a plethora of "For Sale" or "For Rent" signs. Had I awakened yesterday morning with a sudden desire to rent a house or a condo and stay for the week, I could have had my choice of rentals. Investment in Wildwood real estate had clearly been rampant for at least several years, and those investments were now clearly lying fallow.
Had I driven down Friday on a whim, I also could have had my choice of motel rooms for the weekend. Driving around Friday night, a "No Vacancy" sign was the aberration, not the norm. The motels that had vacancies weren't those on the bay, or four blocks from the beach, or those that looked sketchy. Even oceanfront motels had vacancies aplenty. From what I can tell Wildwood is not an expensive resort. An efficiency suite that sleeps four at an oceanfront motel, with balcony with ocean view, went for $195 a night in this, the high season. The number of vacancies would seem to indicate that even a weekend at a beach less than a tank of gas away is beyond the reach of many this summer.
This was proven at the micro level. All weekend the day parking lots and the beach were relatively full. Wildwood's beaches are free, so for a nominal parking fee a family can have a day by the ocean. Although the boardwalk had plenty of pedestrians, the shops and arcades were empty. As of 9 PM Friday night, the amusement parks didn't have enough takers for most of the rides, so that the roller coaster, ferris wheel, etc. were standing idle. People lined up for slices of pizza, but we were able to get a table at a seafood restaurant overlooking the bay without a reservation and only a half hour wait. This summer, a day at the shore wouldn't seem to include any extras.
For Sunday happy hour we drove to a motel that had a swim-up tiki bar. A DJ was set up in a corner for karoke, but no one was singing; the bar had fewer than a dozen patrons on this sunny weekend day. You know things are bad when no one's drinking at the Jersey shore.
The good news was a painless weekend away, when we could get tables without reservations and get a seat at any bar we desired. The bad news is the way business, even in this resort area, is suffering, the wait staff who aren't making the tips they need, the business owners who perhaps aren't covering expenses, the homeowners who can't rent or sell. And the bad news is that it's summer. In August, no one is paying to heat their home. What will it be like in January, even for me, when my heating bill is almost as much each month as my mortgage?
I guess it's a good thing I feed my cat nutritional high-protein food. Maybe we'll be sharing it come January.
On the macro level, boom and bust were evident everywhere in Wildwood. I have no prior knowledge of the island, but the remnants of the recent housing boom were readily observable. It was clear that the Wildwoods were a working-class resort; most of the housing consisted of modest beach cottages. Many of those cottages had been recently renovated; many of them had been torn down and replaced with larger structures: long, narrow, three or four story multi-unit condos. I didn't walk down a single block that didn't feature a plethora of "For Sale" or "For Rent" signs. Had I awakened yesterday morning with a sudden desire to rent a house or a condo and stay for the week, I could have had my choice of rentals. Investment in Wildwood real estate had clearly been rampant for at least several years, and those investments were now clearly lying fallow.
Had I driven down Friday on a whim, I also could have had my choice of motel rooms for the weekend. Driving around Friday night, a "No Vacancy" sign was the aberration, not the norm. The motels that had vacancies weren't those on the bay, or four blocks from the beach, or those that looked sketchy. Even oceanfront motels had vacancies aplenty. From what I can tell Wildwood is not an expensive resort. An efficiency suite that sleeps four at an oceanfront motel, with balcony with ocean view, went for $195 a night in this, the high season. The number of vacancies would seem to indicate that even a weekend at a beach less than a tank of gas away is beyond the reach of many this summer.
This was proven at the micro level. All weekend the day parking lots and the beach were relatively full. Wildwood's beaches are free, so for a nominal parking fee a family can have a day by the ocean. Although the boardwalk had plenty of pedestrians, the shops and arcades were empty. As of 9 PM Friday night, the amusement parks didn't have enough takers for most of the rides, so that the roller coaster, ferris wheel, etc. were standing idle. People lined up for slices of pizza, but we were able to get a table at a seafood restaurant overlooking the bay without a reservation and only a half hour wait. This summer, a day at the shore wouldn't seem to include any extras.
For Sunday happy hour we drove to a motel that had a swim-up tiki bar. A DJ was set up in a corner for karoke, but no one was singing; the bar had fewer than a dozen patrons on this sunny weekend day. You know things are bad when no one's drinking at the Jersey shore.
The good news was a painless weekend away, when we could get tables without reservations and get a seat at any bar we desired. The bad news is the way business, even in this resort area, is suffering, the wait staff who aren't making the tips they need, the business owners who perhaps aren't covering expenses, the homeowners who can't rent or sell. And the bad news is that it's summer. In August, no one is paying to heat their home. What will it be like in January, even for me, when my heating bill is almost as much each month as my mortgage?
I guess it's a good thing I feed my cat nutritional high-protein food. Maybe we'll be sharing it come January.
Monday, July 7, 2008
I Don't Think I've Seen it All, But This Comes Close
If, like me, you watched the raid on the FLDS Yearning for Zion Ranch in Texas and the attendant court cases and thought, "I want to look like Holly Hobby, too! Where do I get those clothes?" then you're in luck. Although currently only children's sizes are available, the FLDS has begun selling clothing that adheres to the Church's standards for modesty through this website.
Why the Web venture? Spokesperson Maggie Jessop told the Salt Lake Tribune last week that "(they) have to make a living the same as everyone else does." A living they should make; a basic dress will run you around $40, which seems steep even if the child will outgrow it before it goes out of style. I didn't feel like going through the motions of check-out, but I am left wondering whether or not they are charging sales tax, given their precarious relationship with state and federal government.
I'm also left wondering when the competing e-commerce sites for Amish wear and Hasidic garb will be launched. Everyone does need to make a living, after all.
Why the Web venture? Spokesperson Maggie Jessop told the Salt Lake Tribune last week that "(they) have to make a living the same as everyone else does." A living they should make; a basic dress will run you around $40, which seems steep even if the child will outgrow it before it goes out of style. I didn't feel like going through the motions of check-out, but I am left wondering whether or not they are charging sales tax, given their precarious relationship with state and federal government.
I'm also left wondering when the competing e-commerce sites for Amish wear and Hasidic garb will be launched. Everyone does need to make a living, after all.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Letter to the President
Dear President Bush,
Where's my economic stimulus check? It's almost July already. I know my Social Security number puts me near the end of the list, but come on. All my neighbors have been happily filling up their gas tanks and buying eggs and milk, then putting the 68 cents they have left in the bank, while my refrigerator and tank remain empty. I've been dreaming all month of taking a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a few things I don't need that have been manufactured in China. Things aren't too great around here, and I need that check to help out.
Plus, President Bush, I've been bored. I just don't know what to do with myself if I'm not spending money! I shot my wad paying for heat this past winter. I know, I know, that was thoughtless and poor planning. I should have put something aside in order to help Kohl's meet its second quarter profits. What can I say? I'm a greedy Democrat, tax and spend and all that. You taxed me; where's my check so I can do some spending? Don't you care about Kohl's? This week "novelty" t-shirts made in Malaysia are on sale for $9.99 and I can't buy one.
Hey, thank you (and your predecessors) for the continuing, decades-long support of United Fruit, though. At least bananas flown up from South America are still cheap. Your unwavering support of pharmaceutical companies has also been a great help to a couple of my neighbors who work for Merck. I don't have much of a prescription plan and had to spend $300 for some Wellbutrin a couple of months ago, but that was just me doing my part for Q1 earnings. It's all good for me in the end, right?
But I digress. I'm honestly just wondering when I'll get that check. Here I am, ready and willing to buy something. Help me out already. I'll even buy some Budweiser to do my part at keeping those nasty Belgians at bay. Sorry I posted this letter on the web rather than putting it in the mail; without my stimulus I couldn't afford the stamp.
Love,
Elucidator
Where's my economic stimulus check? It's almost July already. I know my Social Security number puts me near the end of the list, but come on. All my neighbors have been happily filling up their gas tanks and buying eggs and milk, then putting the 68 cents they have left in the bank, while my refrigerator and tank remain empty. I've been dreaming all month of taking a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a few things I don't need that have been manufactured in China. Things aren't too great around here, and I need that check to help out.
Plus, President Bush, I've been bored. I just don't know what to do with myself if I'm not spending money! I shot my wad paying for heat this past winter. I know, I know, that was thoughtless and poor planning. I should have put something aside in order to help Kohl's meet its second quarter profits. What can I say? I'm a greedy Democrat, tax and spend and all that. You taxed me; where's my check so I can do some spending? Don't you care about Kohl's? This week "novelty" t-shirts made in Malaysia are on sale for $9.99 and I can't buy one.
Hey, thank you (and your predecessors) for the continuing, decades-long support of United Fruit, though. At least bananas flown up from South America are still cheap. Your unwavering support of pharmaceutical companies has also been a great help to a couple of my neighbors who work for Merck. I don't have much of a prescription plan and had to spend $300 for some Wellbutrin a couple of months ago, but that was just me doing my part for Q1 earnings. It's all good for me in the end, right?
But I digress. I'm honestly just wondering when I'll get that check. Here I am, ready and willing to buy something. Help me out already. I'll even buy some Budweiser to do my part at keeping those nasty Belgians at bay. Sorry I posted this letter on the web rather than putting it in the mail; without my stimulus I couldn't afford the stamp.
Love,
Elucidator
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
All Power to the People
I received an email yesterday notifying me that my cable bill was past due, and that if I didn't pay by phone immediately my service would be shut off. That struck me as odd; I'm a good American and I always pay my bills. I looked through my receipts and noticed that I didn't in fact receive a cable bill last month, which explains why I didn't pay it.
So I called the cable company and worked my way through the voice menu until 15 minutes later I had a real human being on the other end of the line. I explained that I'd never received a bill last month, and wondered what was up. "Just a minute, let me make an adjustment," she said. I said, "OK," and waited. "There!" she exclaimed. "I changed your account so that you'll automatically receive a bill every month."
"Why wouldn't I receive a bill every month?" I asked. "I've received a bill every month but last month."
"Well," she explained, "if your bill is the same every month sometimes the system just doesn't send it out once in a while. I don't know why. I can remove the late fee for you, though."
"Are you intentionally not sending out bills so you can collect late fees? Is that what you're telling me? Even if that's legal, it's not very polite," I stated politely.
She replied that she honestly didn't know, and of course I believe her. Customer Service reps don't make policy decisions for major utilities. Here's another crap thing about this cable company: if you decide your bill is too high and have the time and patience to wait for a human voice on the other end of the phone, you can say, "My bill's so high! Do you have any promotions right now?" and they will take at least $20 off your bill for six months or a year. In other words, they overcharge anyone willing to pay a bill without asking questions, which means they are overcharging 90% of their customers.
Do I have choice? Could I get my cable and internet from another company? Yes. Would that be a huge pain in the butt? Yes. Would a different utility treat me any better, any differently? Nah. The days of public utilities are over, and utility companies are not our friends. No conglomerate is a friend. The only way for services such as electric, gas, phone and cable to be delivered to my house in a warm and friendly manner would be for me to hook a treadmill up to a battery and a generator and let my dog power everything by running in place.
I don't even think there's a lesson here, or a larger point, except this: sometimes "the man" really is out to get you, and you best stick it to him first.
So I called the cable company and worked my way through the voice menu until 15 minutes later I had a real human being on the other end of the line. I explained that I'd never received a bill last month, and wondered what was up. "Just a minute, let me make an adjustment," she said. I said, "OK," and waited. "There!" she exclaimed. "I changed your account so that you'll automatically receive a bill every month."
"Why wouldn't I receive a bill every month?" I asked. "I've received a bill every month but last month."
"Well," she explained, "if your bill is the same every month sometimes the system just doesn't send it out once in a while. I don't know why. I can remove the late fee for you, though."
"Are you intentionally not sending out bills so you can collect late fees? Is that what you're telling me? Even if that's legal, it's not very polite," I stated politely.
She replied that she honestly didn't know, and of course I believe her. Customer Service reps don't make policy decisions for major utilities. Here's another crap thing about this cable company: if you decide your bill is too high and have the time and patience to wait for a human voice on the other end of the phone, you can say, "My bill's so high! Do you have any promotions right now?" and they will take at least $20 off your bill for six months or a year. In other words, they overcharge anyone willing to pay a bill without asking questions, which means they are overcharging 90% of their customers.
Do I have choice? Could I get my cable and internet from another company? Yes. Would that be a huge pain in the butt? Yes. Would a different utility treat me any better, any differently? Nah. The days of public utilities are over, and utility companies are not our friends. No conglomerate is a friend. The only way for services such as electric, gas, phone and cable to be delivered to my house in a warm and friendly manner would be for me to hook a treadmill up to a battery and a generator and let my dog power everything by running in place.
I don't even think there's a lesson here, or a larger point, except this: sometimes "the man" really is out to get you, and you best stick it to him first.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Sweat Stains of the Stars
The Style section of the Thursday Times is always packed with useful information. What's new in cosmetic surgery? How do I order my Thanksgiving dinner online? What's it like shopping at a sneaker boutique? When I need these answers, I rely on the Style section. If you're like me, you've been wondering where you could purchase some of Oprah's used clothes, and again the Times delivers, with a story about the Oprah Store in Chicago.
The store is conveniently located across from Harpo Studios, where her talk show is taped, so rabid fans can easily find a place to buy O-themed souvenirs to commemorate their experience. There, shoppers can purchase all manner of accessories and housewares, from tea sets to t-shirts. They can also visit Oprah's Closet, the exclusive outlet for Oprah's hand-me-downs. Is Oprah so popular and powerful a symbol that she can sell anything, even her old shoes? That's a rhetorical question if ever there was one.
The Times reporter interviewed Barbara Jean Hoy, a retired Chicago housekeeper who had purchased a $40 cream-colored blouse. While some items in Oprah's Closet appear never to have been worn, Hoy was thrilled that her blouse contains underarm stains, proof to Hoy that Oprah's armpits had at some point touched the blouse. Overall, this made Hoy feel "great, like you are somebody, like Oprah is touching you."
Proceeds from Oprah's Closet do go to charity, so the second-hand store of the star is not exactly naked capitalism. It still feels somewhat creepy to me. Oprah is an everywoman, a user-friendly celebrity. She knows her fans adore her. She obviously knows her fans will buy anything she's touched. Offering sweat-stained blouses for sale, even to benefit charity, feels like an IPO of intimacy. Fans will buy the clothes to feel close to Oprah, but the fact that the closeness is achieved through a commercial transaction creates distance instead.
However, Oprah's fans are pleased, so who am I to judge? Besides, I'm feeling a little under-capitalized myself. I have some pit and neck stained t-shirts lying around, and I've decided that fans of this blog can purchase them for $20 apiece. Each shirt will come with a certificate authenticating its provenance. Supplies aren't particularly limited, but it's still best to email me today and reserve your treasure from Elucidator's Rag Bag.
The store is conveniently located across from Harpo Studios, where her talk show is taped, so rabid fans can easily find a place to buy O-themed souvenirs to commemorate their experience. There, shoppers can purchase all manner of accessories and housewares, from tea sets to t-shirts. They can also visit Oprah's Closet, the exclusive outlet for Oprah's hand-me-downs. Is Oprah so popular and powerful a symbol that she can sell anything, even her old shoes? That's a rhetorical question if ever there was one.
The Times reporter interviewed Barbara Jean Hoy, a retired Chicago housekeeper who had purchased a $40 cream-colored blouse. While some items in Oprah's Closet appear never to have been worn, Hoy was thrilled that her blouse contains underarm stains, proof to Hoy that Oprah's armpits had at some point touched the blouse. Overall, this made Hoy feel "great, like you are somebody, like Oprah is touching you."
Proceeds from Oprah's Closet do go to charity, so the second-hand store of the star is not exactly naked capitalism. It still feels somewhat creepy to me. Oprah is an everywoman, a user-friendly celebrity. She knows her fans adore her. She obviously knows her fans will buy anything she's touched. Offering sweat-stained blouses for sale, even to benefit charity, feels like an IPO of intimacy. Fans will buy the clothes to feel close to Oprah, but the fact that the closeness is achieved through a commercial transaction creates distance instead.
However, Oprah's fans are pleased, so who am I to judge? Besides, I'm feeling a little under-capitalized myself. I have some pit and neck stained t-shirts lying around, and I've decided that fans of this blog can purchase them for $20 apiece. Each shirt will come with a certificate authenticating its provenance. Supplies aren't particularly limited, but it's still best to email me today and reserve your treasure from Elucidator's Rag Bag.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Employment Journal, Part III
Joan Crawford needs a job. Her name is Mildred Pierce; she's left her husband, and she can't bake enough pies to keep her bratty daughter Veda in piano lessons and expensive frocks. So Joan goes out to pound the pavements of Los Angeles, ending the day with only sore ankles to show for it. Four-inch pumps will do that to you. Joan does the only sensible thing, which is to go to a restaurant for a cup of tea. Spending money is the only remedy for feeling broke, after all. In the restaurant, waitresses are bickering. The place is so understaffed not even Eve Arden can control the chaos. "Can I have a job," Joan Crawford asks. No, she doesn't have any experience, but yes, she'll learn. And learn she does. After a short montage and voice-over she's made enough money to open Mildred's and hire Eve Arden to be her manager.
There are too many ways this could never happen today to enumerate, but most laughable is the thought of being hired to waitress in middle-age without any previous experience.
Although I knew I would get nowhere because I've never tended bar or waitstaffed, I decided to see what restaurant jobs might be available. For me, none. I decided not to lie, and was told everywhere I went that only the experienced need apply. This was as much the case at a diner as it was at a finer restaurant. After my fourth stop I decided to stop the ruse and began just going into places and telling managers that I'm a freelance journalist writing about the local economy and wondering how the downturn has effected staffing. Has turnover decreased? Have applications increased?
The good news is that, for those who are unemployed but who have restaurant experience, there are jobs to be had. About half of the ten places I visited yesterday are either hiring or taking applications. The bad news is that none of those positions would have paid particularly well, since all were in mid to low-priced places, all were for lunch shifts, and none were for more than a couple of shifts a week. Maybe a job like that would bring out the Mildred Pierce in some of us. I'm just glad that I don't have to spend 20 hours a week on my feet dealing with people and end up unable to pay my mortgage.
Turnover has decreased at finer establishments, according to my unscientific study. Those who have dinner shifts, frequent shifts, and who work at places where the tips are high are not switching jobs with the frequency that was seen until about a year ago. I was told applications are up at the higher-end restaurants, and that they were about the same everywhere else, except that those looking for work in the mid and lower priced places were coming in with more experience than is the norm. Make of all that what you will. I take it to mean that I'd lose my house before I'd find anything other than dishwasher or busperson.
By the way, I ended up staying for something to eat or drink at the last four places I visited. There's no better way to feel well-off than to spend money, after all.
There are too many ways this could never happen today to enumerate, but most laughable is the thought of being hired to waitress in middle-age without any previous experience.
Although I knew I would get nowhere because I've never tended bar or waitstaffed, I decided to see what restaurant jobs might be available. For me, none. I decided not to lie, and was told everywhere I went that only the experienced need apply. This was as much the case at a diner as it was at a finer restaurant. After my fourth stop I decided to stop the ruse and began just going into places and telling managers that I'm a freelance journalist writing about the local economy and wondering how the downturn has effected staffing. Has turnover decreased? Have applications increased?
The good news is that, for those who are unemployed but who have restaurant experience, there are jobs to be had. About half of the ten places I visited yesterday are either hiring or taking applications. The bad news is that none of those positions would have paid particularly well, since all were in mid to low-priced places, all were for lunch shifts, and none were for more than a couple of shifts a week. Maybe a job like that would bring out the Mildred Pierce in some of us. I'm just glad that I don't have to spend 20 hours a week on my feet dealing with people and end up unable to pay my mortgage.
Turnover has decreased at finer establishments, according to my unscientific study. Those who have dinner shifts, frequent shifts, and who work at places where the tips are high are not switching jobs with the frequency that was seen until about a year ago. I was told applications are up at the higher-end restaurants, and that they were about the same everywhere else, except that those looking for work in the mid and lower priced places were coming in with more experience than is the norm. Make of all that what you will. I take it to mean that I'd lose my house before I'd find anything other than dishwasher or busperson.
By the way, I ended up staying for something to eat or drink at the last four places I visited. There's no better way to feel well-off than to spend money, after all.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Employment Journal, Part II
I only had a couple of hours to spend looking for work yesterday, so I limited my search to department stores on the theory that the larger stores might be more likely to need help. No such luck. I went to three different stores in two different malls and came home feeling slightly humiliated.
Things started badly at Store 1. After a fruitless search for either the manager's office or someone who could tell me where to find said office, I finally encountered an employee in the sock section. "Can you tell me where the manager's office might be?" I asked hopefully. She looked me over and quickly replied, "You won't be hired." Although I wasn't wearing a business suit I was fully clothed and my fly was not open, so I have no idea where that hostility came from. "I'd like to try anyway," I said, and she begrudgingly sent me on my way.
In the manager's office I waited 15 minutes for a 22 year-old to get off the phone and was handed an application. I filled it out while she made several more phone calls. The application asked for the address and phone number of my high school. I had no idea this was information that would be pertinent in life. When she got off the phone 20 minutes later, I handed her my application and asked if they were hiring. "I don't think so," she replied. "The manager will call you, maybe, but you should come back later in the summer when we hire for the holidays." OK, off to Store 2.
There, I easily found the office and was immediately handed an application. I again needed to know the address and phone number of my high school. This time I was also handed a true or false questionnaire: All merchandise on the premises is the property of Store 2 - true or false? I'm thinking I passed. I handed my materials to the man behind the counter and asked if they were hiring. He read over my application, looked at me, and said, "We don't handle headquarters. You have to apply to corporate." I told him I was looking for a job on the floor, to which he replied, "Oh?" Silence. He finally told me that they'd keep my application on file and someone might call me.
Store 3 was much the same, only this time I spoke with the actual store manager, who read my application and opined, "Well, you have lots of....experience. Are you sure you want to work here?" I explained that I just really needed a job. She in turn explained that Store 3 prefers to hire "career workers," and that it didn't look as if I'd want to make Store 3 my career. So I don't think I'll be hearing from her.
In short, I don't appear to be the kind of worker department stores are looking for, although I got the sense that they aren't looking for any kind of employee right now. I'll return to the malls and see if any of the smaller retailers are hiring at a later date. I won't have time to look for work today - my real jobs beckon - but later this week I think I'll give some restaurants a try.
Things started badly at Store 1. After a fruitless search for either the manager's office or someone who could tell me where to find said office, I finally encountered an employee in the sock section. "Can you tell me where the manager's office might be?" I asked hopefully. She looked me over and quickly replied, "You won't be hired." Although I wasn't wearing a business suit I was fully clothed and my fly was not open, so I have no idea where that hostility came from. "I'd like to try anyway," I said, and she begrudgingly sent me on my way.
In the manager's office I waited 15 minutes for a 22 year-old to get off the phone and was handed an application. I filled it out while she made several more phone calls. The application asked for the address and phone number of my high school. I had no idea this was information that would be pertinent in life. When she got off the phone 20 minutes later, I handed her my application and asked if they were hiring. "I don't think so," she replied. "The manager will call you, maybe, but you should come back later in the summer when we hire for the holidays." OK, off to Store 2.
There, I easily found the office and was immediately handed an application. I again needed to know the address and phone number of my high school. This time I was also handed a true or false questionnaire: All merchandise on the premises is the property of Store 2 - true or false? I'm thinking I passed. I handed my materials to the man behind the counter and asked if they were hiring. He read over my application, looked at me, and said, "We don't handle headquarters. You have to apply to corporate." I told him I was looking for a job on the floor, to which he replied, "Oh?" Silence. He finally told me that they'd keep my application on file and someone might call me.
Store 3 was much the same, only this time I spoke with the actual store manager, who read my application and opined, "Well, you have lots of....experience. Are you sure you want to work here?" I explained that I just really needed a job. She in turn explained that Store 3 prefers to hire "career workers," and that it didn't look as if I'd want to make Store 3 my career. So I don't think I'll be hearing from her.
In short, I don't appear to be the kind of worker department stores are looking for, although I got the sense that they aren't looking for any kind of employee right now. I'll return to the malls and see if any of the smaller retailers are hiring at a later date. I won't have time to look for work today - my real jobs beckon - but later this week I think I'll give some restaurants a try.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Acts of Daily Journalism
If, like me, you're a big fan of David Simon and every word he's ever written (which means you're a big fan of The Wire, The Corner - book and series, and Homicide - book and series) then you'll want to pick up the March issue of Esquire, which features Simon's essay about his years at the Baltimore Sun and the decline of the daily newspaper. You can follow the link to Esquire's website to read part of the essay, but you'll have to buy the print version to read it all, which is a business model to keep in mind when thinking about the decline of the newspaper.
I spent my first two years of college thinking that I would graduate, go to j-school, and become a reporter. Simon is just five years older than I am, and he entered the profession at this same time, the early 80s, when newspapers were still wearing their post-Watergate glow. The daily paper wasn't only a source of news, but a source of reform and change. That statement isn't just a reflection of the idealism of the young; 25 years ago, newspapers were still flush with advertising revenue and could afford the kind of staff needed for investigative reporting. 25 years ago 24-hour news channels and the internet were just a dream.
To say that the newspaper has fallen victim to increased competition is to only tell part of the story. Simon concentrates on consolidation and how the cutbacks in staff enacted by conglomerates have made reporting of the real stories important to a city impossible, and I can see that this is true. The consolidation happened because newspapers were losing money, though, and they were losing money primarily because of the decline of the department store. Department store circulars, as well as department store multi-page spreads, are the lifeblood of the daily paper. As regional department stores failed or were consolidated, so went the regional and smaller-market dailies.
Newspapers also didn't adapt well to the internet. Most of them were late in developing web content and are now trying to survive with a business model where they charge for what they should be giving away (the print version) and not selling ads where they should be (for the web version). My hometown daily is incredibly cheap, only 50 cents, but I almost always just read it online, for free, without an ad in sight. No wonder that paper was eaten up by a larger chain; consolidation is the only way the paper can survive economically.
Of course, the decline of the daily can be seen as a tragedy, or as an opportunity. For Simon, who loved his work at the Sun, the daily's loss of significance is a personal loss. However, the inability of short-staffed dailies to report on the specifics of the lives of a city's residents simply makes room for alternative media to take up the slack. The monopoly of the daily has been broken, and there's more room for the free weekly or monthly, and for the blogger, to join in the conversation.
I hope the newspaper as we know it will continue. I hope to always have the opportunity to get ink on my fingers while I drink my morning coffee. But I also hope that the shrinking of the daily leads to the proliferation of other media, other voices.
I spent my first two years of college thinking that I would graduate, go to j-school, and become a reporter. Simon is just five years older than I am, and he entered the profession at this same time, the early 80s, when newspapers were still wearing their post-Watergate glow. The daily paper wasn't only a source of news, but a source of reform and change. That statement isn't just a reflection of the idealism of the young; 25 years ago, newspapers were still flush with advertising revenue and could afford the kind of staff needed for investigative reporting. 25 years ago 24-hour news channels and the internet were just a dream.
To say that the newspaper has fallen victim to increased competition is to only tell part of the story. Simon concentrates on consolidation and how the cutbacks in staff enacted by conglomerates have made reporting of the real stories important to a city impossible, and I can see that this is true. The consolidation happened because newspapers were losing money, though, and they were losing money primarily because of the decline of the department store. Department store circulars, as well as department store multi-page spreads, are the lifeblood of the daily paper. As regional department stores failed or were consolidated, so went the regional and smaller-market dailies.
Newspapers also didn't adapt well to the internet. Most of them were late in developing web content and are now trying to survive with a business model where they charge for what they should be giving away (the print version) and not selling ads where they should be (for the web version). My hometown daily is incredibly cheap, only 50 cents, but I almost always just read it online, for free, without an ad in sight. No wonder that paper was eaten up by a larger chain; consolidation is the only way the paper can survive economically.
Of course, the decline of the daily can be seen as a tragedy, or as an opportunity. For Simon, who loved his work at the Sun, the daily's loss of significance is a personal loss. However, the inability of short-staffed dailies to report on the specifics of the lives of a city's residents simply makes room for alternative media to take up the slack. The monopoly of the daily has been broken, and there's more room for the free weekly or monthly, and for the blogger, to join in the conversation.
I hope the newspaper as we know it will continue. I hope to always have the opportunity to get ink on my fingers while I drink my morning coffee. But I also hope that the shrinking of the daily leads to the proliferation of other media, other voices.
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