Tag Archives: work

Zero Credit

The image above represents something very important to me and I’m sure to most working people.  For the first time since about 2000 I have no credit card debt.  I paid off my last outstanding credit card in February and felt so ecstatic I almost had an orgasm!  Key word – “almost”.  But it’s still a great feeling.  Credit card debt has been one of my vices – along with alcohol and road rage.  Then again credit card debt has been the vice of many Americans.  Currently Americans hold approximately USD 1.13 trillion in credit card debt; an expense that worsened with the 2008 economic downturn and even more so with the COVID-19 pandemic.  (Ironically a Republican was president of the United States at the start of each fiasco, which may or may not factor into it – but that’s a different matter.)

I remember paying off a massive amount of credit card debt in 1998, along with the truck loan I had at the time.  And I was able to stay debt free until I lost my job at a bank in 2001.  Odd how those two things often coincide, isn’t it?

I always used to tell myself I just needed to earn more money.  I struggled constantly when I worked for that bank and I kept saying I should return to college and earn a degree.  I finally did that in 2007.  But after graduating in December 2008, the engineering company I was working for then couldn’t afford much in the way of salary increases because of – wait for it – the sudden economic downturn.  Damn!  Then I got laid off in the fall of 2010 and struggled somewhat as I tried to make my freelance technical writing career flourish.

But by then, I’d learned an even more important lesson: you don’t always solve money problems with money.  Indeed some people earn six and seven figure annual salaries and are always in debt.  It’s true, for the most part, that middle class incomes have shrunk considerably since the late 1970s; that is, in relation to the overall cost of living.  A few years ago economic statisticians finally confirmed what the rest of us lowly working class drones already knew – “trickle down” economics doesn’t work!  It never has and it never will.  Yet conservative politicians keep pushing that theory onto the masses, and many people keep falling for it.  That’s why I say my brain is too big to be conservative – with all due respect to my conservative friends and relatives.

In high school I was forced to take algebra and geometry and later wondered what purpose either discipline served.  Other than knowing the shortest distance between two objects is a straight line, I feel that the ability to balance a checkbook and figure out percentages (so you know how much to tip the bartender) are the only truly essential math.  Budgeting should be included.  It’s good to know how long a light year is, but it’s more important to realize that it’s not worth having a savings account if you have more in credit card debt.  Two plus two is so hard for some folks to figure out.

Regardless I’m glad I don’t have to wait for that zombie apocalypse to wipe out my credit card debt.  Reality is often better.

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Well Life

In my essay last month about turning 60, I declared I’ll never get “old”.  But I also have to emphasize that I’m in a better place now than I have been in years.  Much of it, I’m sure, has to do with the job I landed this past August.  More importantly, though, I’ve realized that all I’ve endured during my seven decades on Earth hasn’t just brought me here – it’s made me who I am.  We all base our views of reality on our own life experiences, and it’s something that none of us can change.  It’s just a natural progression of life.

But, while we can never change what happened way back when – one vice that has always personally tormented me – we can make use of those experiences and go forward.  We have to move ahead.  We have no choice.

For me, I’m feeling the same way now that I did around the turn of the century.  Over a decade ago – as I reflected on my life to date – I recalled the excitement of the new century and the new millennium.  Overall, the 1990s was the best decade of my life – even now!  I had come into my own as a person; finally understanding that I’m better than even I realized at the time.  I don’t want to sound like a talk show victim, but I grew up shy and introverted; characteristics that carried into my adulthood.  I didn’t boast the same level of self-esteem as my parents – something they never could understand.  Making friends was easy for them, but it was a chore for me.

By the 1990s, however, I had come to realize I didn’t need a large gallery of friends to be whole and complete.  And eventually I accepted my introverted personality as perfectly normal for me.  Two years ago I got into a heated text message debate with a long-time acquaintance who insinuated my introverted nature is a sign of mild autism.  Excuse me?  He worked in the mental health field, so he knew all about those things.  I’m a tech writer, so I’m not familiar with autism. Yet to me, it’s one step above mental retardation.  I was offended – and shocked that he would make that assumption about me.  We were cyber-friends and had communicated for years.  But although we’d never met in person, I had believed he knew me well enough to understand who I am.  He kept trying to reassure me that he wasn’t labeling me as retarded; that retardation was a completely different cerebral condition.  But I remained unconvinced.

That I’ve never had many friends and I’m not a fan of my fellow humans is no indication of a mental disorder on my part.  It’s indicative that people generally have pissed me off to the point where I want little do with them.  That’s why the remote nature of this job is ideal.  I might add that my years of reading, writing, jogging and weightlifting have been extremely therapeutic for me; in other words, they prevented me from either killing myself or becoming a serial killer.

But the period from 1996 to the summer of 2001 was a time of personal renewal; a realignment of my spirituality and priorities.  The world seemed wide open, and the future looked endless.  I felt euphoric, perhaps even naïve.  I have that same feeling now, but I view it with greater caution.  I’m much older and won’t take anything for granted.  I know I have more years behind me than I do ahead of me, so I continue to pursue my various ambitions.  I’ve made it this far – thus I’m not going to give up on myself at this point.  I’ve given up on so many assorted dreams and projects in the past and almost gave up on life altogether.

And yet, I’m still here.  Everyone needs to understand they’re worth the troubles that life throws at them.  You’re all worth something.  Please understand that and keep moving forward.

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Happy Labor Day 2023

“The only place success comes before work is the dictionary.”

Vince Lombardi

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Swinging

As Labor Day fast approaches here in the U.S., I’m happy to point out that I recently started a new job; a full-time position with a firm that does a great deal of government contract work.  And, if you know anything about the U.S. federal government, there’s a lot of work to be done!  It’s similar to the kind of work I did with an engineering company more than a decade ago.

Yes, that’s me in the scary unretouched photo above – slaving away over a hot keyboard and fighting spreadsheet eyes.  Although my company has a local office, they switched to remote work at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic three years ago and have found that it seems to be the best functional model for everyone.  So I get to sit at a desk in my home bare-chested and in gym shorts shuffling through a myriad of digital documents.  As a devout introvert, it’s a utopian environment for me.

It’s especially ironic in that I’ll be 60 in some two months – and finding a job at this point in life is challenging for anyone.  I’d been doing contract and freelance work since 2010, so it’s quite a change.  But welcome nonetheless.  Yes, it’d be great if my debut novel (or any future novel) could be sold to a motion picture company for X amount – preferably in the seven figure range – that would be extraordinary.  But I know how unlikely that is.  I’m not naïve.

I listen carefully to close friends and fellow bloggers as they vent about their own struggles to get from one point to another in the working world.  One friend lives in the Los Angeles area and works for a major television network.  He studied filmmaking and screenwriting at New York University in the 1990s and is witnessing – and feeling – the impact of the ongoing writers’ and actors’ strikes firsthand.  I commented a while back about his education.  “A lot of good that did me!” he replied.  I often felt the same, as I struggled over the past decade to find work.  I kept relying upon that degree in English I finally earned.  What good has it done? I asked myself more than a few times.  But I’m still proud of it.

My father was essentially forced to retire shortly after turning 62 in 1995.  When he called the local Social Security office to apply for his benefits, the clerk stated (almost sarcastically), “I guess you want your money now.”  My father answered, “You’re damn right I do!”  In the middle of one day several years ago he decided on a whim to have a glass of wine.  One of my uncles lives alone in a neighboring suburb with a cat and once told me, “I’m happy to sit around on my fat ass and watch TV all day!”  Aside from a brief stint in the U.S. Army in the 1960s, he worked in warehouses most of his life.  Like my father, he did hard labor – donkey-type work; the kind that wears out people quickly.

Other people, like my mother, did white-collar work – the kind that wears on the mind.  I don’t know what’s worse – mental or physical exhaustion.  I suppose they’re equally stressful.

Regardless I’m back in the swing of things with the labor force.  I actually enjoy what I’m doing – mainly because I’m doing it from home and can sit around bare-chested while listening to music such as this.  It helps fight those spreadsheet eyes.

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Spent

Last November, for my 59th birthday, I met a long-time friend, Preston*, at my gym.  For years I made it a habit to visit my gym on my birthday.  Even though I’ve changed gyms over the years, I hadn’t been to a gym on my birthday since 2019.  So this was a refreshing change.  Preston had turned 55 the previous July and – as we conversed about life and related topics – the subject of retirement arose.  Like me (and millions of others across the globe), Preston has worked most of his adult life.  He did what’s expected of so many people – especially men – in our society: he attended college, found a good job, got married and had kids.  His wife went on maternity leave shortly before giving birth to their daughter some two decades ago and never returned to work.  Thus, Preston – like millions of men – continued working.

Prior to meeting at my gym last November he’d said something that surprised me, yet to which I could relate.  “I’m tired of working so hard.”

It was ironic because the same feelings had been rumbling around in my mind over the previous months.  An uncle told me he’d retired in 2002 at the age of 62 simply because he was tired of working.  Even though he didn’t get the most out of his Social Security, he simply had become weary of the labor grind and therefore, was willing to take the risk of living a more modest life.

My father had essentially been forced to retire at 62 in 1995, but my mother managed to retire at 70 in 2003.  My folks managed to make the most of their golden years – my father dived full-time into genealogical research, and my mother spent hours reading and doing crossword puzzles.  They didn’t travel or go out dancing; they didn’t join any clubs to make a bevy of new friends.  They spent their remaining time on Earth living simply and quietly.

Whenever it’s my turn to retire, I’m certain I’ll spend my time doing what I love to do: reading and writing.  I’d love to travel, but that’s still a dream.

Right now I’m trying desperately to find a job within my chosen profession – technical writing – but I’m not having much luck.  Since the first of this year I have literally applied to more than 100 jobs.  If I actually receive a response, it’s usually a no or the position has been closed.  And even those are rare.  In the state of Texas, the unemployment rate is roughly 4%, lower than most anywhere else in the country.  I’m starting to get the impression my age is a factor.  A friend tells me I’m just being paranoid, but I know age discrimination – though illegal – is a reality in the American work force.

But right now the U.S. government is mired in an impasse over the debt limit.  As usual it’s a battle between political ideologies, and neither side seems willing to concede.  And, as usual, average Americans like The Chief are caught in the mud fight.

I don’t need a palatial beachfront estate with a 6-car garage to be happy.  I don’t need billions in stock or hard cash to feel content.  I just need to make a basic and decent living.  My freelance writing fell flat after the COVID-19 pandemic and hasn’t recovered.  A friend suggested I try to be an Uber driver, but I don’t have a 4-door vehicle and I’m bad at directions.  I think I’m too old for porn, so I won’t even try – again.  Yet I’m not too proud to work and don’t like being idle anyway.

Yet I have to concede I’m tired.  Decades ago I recall my father saying he no longer really cared for being praised for his work; he wanted to be rewarded monetarily.  The bank where I used to work often gave out perfect attendance awards and various other accolades that ultimately weren’t worth the paper on which they were printed.  Now I know what my father meant.

*Name changed.

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Labor Day 2022

“Hard work never killed anybody, but why take a chance?”

Edgar Bergen

Image: Loose Parts

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Bothered

As all my followers well know, The Chief is always asking the tough questions about our world.  For example, how do sexual harassment policies work in adult film production companies?  I realize that’s a hard one to think about, but just try.  You never know what you’ll come up with!

I will now refrain from posting anything for the rest of the weekend.

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Best Quotes of the Week – May 7, 2022

“We need more mechanics, not MBA’s.”

Paul Begala, former presidential advisor and current political commentator, on “Real Time With Bill Maher” 05/06/2022 (min. 38:20)

The panel was discussing the possibility President Joe Biden may cancel trillions in student debt.

“As we’ve warned, SCOTUS isn’t just coming for abortion — they’re coming for the right to privacy Roe rests on which includes gay marriage and civil rights.”

Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, regarding the possibility the U.S. Supreme Court could overturn the 1973 Roe vs. Wade decision

“As “Gilded Glamour and White Tie” pays homage to the period of rapid prosperity, industrialization and growth in the US from 1870 to 1890, some have called it ‘out of touch’.”

Maya Yang, about the annual gala that raises money for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, in The Guardian

The event regularly attracts the wealthy and powerful, mostly from the entertainment community.  While figures for the 2022 affair are unavailable, seats for the 2021 gala started at $35,000, although those on a highly selective guest list aren’t charged anything.  Last year’s event raised more than $16 million.  The MMA’s Costume Institute is the only department at the museum that is required to raise its own funds.  A smattering of the night’s excess can be found here.

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Neuro-Excited

As The Chief continues his technical writing pursuits, I periodically encounter some odd elements.

In the email below, for example, the recruiter either wasn’t familiar with the English language or they tried to be inspirational.  But yeah!  There are few things more exciting than looking for a job!  I mean what reasonable person doesn’t enjoy the rigor of composing a perfect correspondence to a potential employer – especially if they’re desperate to find a job.

Then there’s this beauty below.  While applying for another tech writing job last December, I had to complete a section which asked a question I’d never seen before.

‘Do you identify as neurodivergent.’

Neurodivergent?!  I actually had to look that up – and was offended they’d made such an inquiry.

For years companies have been taking people’s fingerprints and making copies of their driver’s licenses.  I never had a problem with that and always acquiesced.  It was just part of the hiring process.

I’ve also undergone drug screenings, which entail urinating into a plastic cup.  I still find that more intrusive than anything and – after my last such screening a few years ago – vowed never to do it again.  In that incident I inadvertently starting washing my hands after stepping out of the room, which I didn’t know was forbidden.  I’d already handed the cup to the gloved associate who had been standing immediately outside.  When she practically hollered at me for reaching towards the sink, one of her colleagues (they were both female) passed by and made some chicken-shit comment about men not being able to follow instructions.  They began laughing to which I promptly responded, “Excuse you!”  That seemed to upset them, but I will not be disrespected.  Imagine if male associates had said something similar to a woman.

Now some employers are asking for proof of COVID vaccinations.  And exactly what type of shot I received!  And from where!  That’s when I stop being conciliatory.  I simply told one recruiter ‘NO’.  I would not tell them exactly what type of anti-COVID vaccine I received, much less provide a copy of the card displaying my personal data.  If it’s a remote position, who really cares if I’m vaccinated?!  I received both shots, each of which made me ill.

Understand I’m not some right-wing extremist or a Canadian truck driver.  I think the COVID hysteria has reached a crescendo.

But neurodivergent?!  That’s a new one, which I find as intrusive as the cup thing.

Several years ago a human resources associate with the energy company where I worked asked if I’d had personality disputes with coworkers.

“Come on now,” I replied.  “You’ve been around long enough to know, when you gather different people from different backgrounds in one location to work together, inevitably there’ll be some conflict.”

My elaborate answer seemed to surprise her.  I surmise she was accustomed to hearing something like, ‘Oh never!’  Or, ‘Of course not.  I get along with everybody.  I’m a people person.’

But she had to concede I was right.  A company never knows what they’re going to get when they hire someone new.

Neurodivergent?!

This moment came a few months after I’d had a heated text discussion with a long-time acquaintance who lives in California.  He was involved with two younger men – a couple he’d met on a dating site.  He described one of them as somewhat anti-social, adding that the guy’s mental aptitude fell along the autism spectrum.  He went further, though, declaring that people who aren’t good in dealing with other people are borderline autistic.

It stunned me.  I’ve never been good in dealing with other people.  My parents could never understand why I had such a tough time making friends.  But no one had ever deemed me autistic.  To me autism is just one step above mental retardation.  My California acquaintance tried to assure me he wasn’t insinuating I’m mentally retarded, but I remain unconvinced.  He doesn’t really know me.  We’ve never even met.  So I found his cyber-assessment of me as autistic insulting.

I answered no to the “neurodivergent” inquiry, but I wished there had been another option: ‘Who gives a shit!’

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Political Cartoon of the Week – February 5, 2022

Khalil Bendib

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