What are you thinking? While you are complaining about having to live on a minimum wage of $7.25 per hour, what are you paying the person who does odd jobs for you? Do you realize he worked ten hours on your yard and you paid him $20 total? Ten hours times $7.25 is $72.50 is it not? You get over three times as much as you paid him and you can't live on it? How is he supposed to buy his food and take the bus? Does he not deserve an occasional luxury? Do you wonder why he quit and took his hard work elsewhere? But you can't afford to pay him as much as you make? Then you should do your own odd jobs.
You say you are having a hard time with your bank account this summer. Will he go ahead and do the work now and get paid later? Say what? Your bank account is messed up for the third straight summer? Maybe you had better transplant your own rose bushes.
You've got this wonderful idea. You have that old trailer that he could really use for his lawn care equipment. It's really just a cart, isn't it? A cart for a man that has no car. But you thought of your own needs, not his. You chose to kill two birds with one stone. You got rid of your storage problem and got your work for free.
Same for the man who wants to unload his tractor as a Christmas gift, but wants him to work for free to pay for it. Gift, or wage? How will he buy food and ride the bus to the next job? But you can't understand why he isn't kissing your feet with gratitude.
The barter system cannot work well in this day of unemployment problems. It could work for middle class individuals trading luxury items for other luxury items. But, the hordes of unemployed need cash for work. They have to pay the same amount for food as you do. How will they pay for their rent?
We need to quit using the desperate who want to work for a living as our personal "dumpees". There may come a day that you and I are the desperate ones. How would you want to be treated?
Do unto others . . .
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Monday, December 16, 2013
Not Guilty As Charged
"Maureen laughed loudly. What can I say? I'm not a politician. I'm a counselor. In my work I do what I can to help people discover their own prejudices and to deal with them . . ." Maureen, a character in Changes, a novel by Lou Hough -- published by Jamie Carr Publishing in 2004.
I saw on the news today that another movie describing injustice to people of color is about to hit the big screen. I'd like a word here before it does and before my community gets rapped up at the side of the head -- again. The raps are coming pretty fast these days.
Just as I didn't cut in front of that black chick at the Dollar Tree the other day, I didn't enslave negroes several centuries ago. I didn't make black people use a separate restroom. I didn't make you sit at the back of the bus. I didn't refuse to serve you in a restaurant. Neither did most of the people who live in your city, walk down your street or shop where you shop.
I saw a sound bite one time where Denzel Washington said with great drama, "They enslaved us." Well, no Denzel, they didn't. Unless you are among the ranks of the walking dead it isn't possible. Maybe they enslaved an ancestor, but not you, so the people alive today don't owe you any guilt or apology and they don't deserve your anger. They definitely are not your scapegoats or punching bags for any past trespasses against your race -- real or imagined.
Just as most Americans didn't beat up Rodney King, most of those shop owners didn't deserve to have their stores looted and burned. The entire American public does not deserve to be punished for the acts of a handful of bigots.
The Butler, a movie which focuses on the gross injustice of underpaying the servants at the Whitehouse -- interesting and well done as it was -- has a basic flaw. All those featured on the butler's staff were black. Now, had there been a white butler who had worked the same or less length of time that was paid more than the black butler, then that would have been discrimination.
I'm not saying the serving crowd wasn't underpaid. Most employees are, even in this day and age. I am saying welcome to the club. I never had a job in my life where I was adequately paid for all my hard work. So, I would like to request that the current black population quit blaming the current white population for ancient history.
If you are a supervisor today, do you give equal opportunity to white job applicants? A lot of black supervisors don't. Do you recommend that a white employee receive as big a raise as your favorite black employee? Ummmm-hummmmm! If you provide money for college tuition, do you include white students?
Before blaming white folk for what their ancestors did hundreds of years ago, look to the beam in your own eye. Racism is a two-way street. Are you socially correct yourself? Do you watch what you say about the white folk? Or do you strike out at the first white person to stand in your path after you believe you have been wronged? The American Civil Liberties Union is supposed to be for everyone, not just you. We are not guilty as charged!!!!
I saw on the news today that another movie describing injustice to people of color is about to hit the big screen. I'd like a word here before it does and before my community gets rapped up at the side of the head -- again. The raps are coming pretty fast these days.
Just as I didn't cut in front of that black chick at the Dollar Tree the other day, I didn't enslave negroes several centuries ago. I didn't make black people use a separate restroom. I didn't make you sit at the back of the bus. I didn't refuse to serve you in a restaurant. Neither did most of the people who live in your city, walk down your street or shop where you shop.
I saw a sound bite one time where Denzel Washington said with great drama, "They enslaved us." Well, no Denzel, they didn't. Unless you are among the ranks of the walking dead it isn't possible. Maybe they enslaved an ancestor, but not you, so the people alive today don't owe you any guilt or apology and they don't deserve your anger. They definitely are not your scapegoats or punching bags for any past trespasses against your race -- real or imagined.
Just as most Americans didn't beat up Rodney King, most of those shop owners didn't deserve to have their stores looted and burned. The entire American public does not deserve to be punished for the acts of a handful of bigots.
The Butler, a movie which focuses on the gross injustice of underpaying the servants at the Whitehouse -- interesting and well done as it was -- has a basic flaw. All those featured on the butler's staff were black. Now, had there been a white butler who had worked the same or less length of time that was paid more than the black butler, then that would have been discrimination.
I'm not saying the serving crowd wasn't underpaid. Most employees are, even in this day and age. I am saying welcome to the club. I never had a job in my life where I was adequately paid for all my hard work. So, I would like to request that the current black population quit blaming the current white population for ancient history.
If you are a supervisor today, do you give equal opportunity to white job applicants? A lot of black supervisors don't. Do you recommend that a white employee receive as big a raise as your favorite black employee? Ummmm-hummmmm! If you provide money for college tuition, do you include white students?
Before blaming white folk for what their ancestors did hundreds of years ago, look to the beam in your own eye. Racism is a two-way street. Are you socially correct yourself? Do you watch what you say about the white folk? Or do you strike out at the first white person to stand in your path after you believe you have been wronged? The American Civil Liberties Union is supposed to be for everyone, not just you. We are not guilty as charged!!!!
Monday, December 9, 2013
The Best Christmas Ever
Matthew 2:1
Well, at least it was the best Christmas since the actual birth of Jesus. Had my brother and I been older, we would have been able to read the signs and understand the reason it was special.
The first clue was when Mother took me to the window at Carp's Department Store and had me pick any doll I wanted. She took me in to buy it, but we were told they were all sold but the broken one on display.
Later, I was dust mopping my Mother's bedroom floor and the mop met an obstruction. It was the doll. I didn't tell my parents I had spoiled the lovely surprise by looking in the box. The clerk, a friend of Mother's, had called when someone failed to pick up a lay away. As Christmas approached, my Dad bought chocolate hay stacks, his favorite Christmas candy. He hung a bright red peignoir set on the floor lamp near the tree -- an occasional gift he liked to get for Mom.
Christmas Eve, Bill and Elizabeth came over to play pinochle for match sticks. At the appropriate time, my grandparents and Uncle wandered across the alley with the traditional wicker basket full of gifts. We were sent to bed to wait for Santa.
About 4:00 in the morning, we were awakened by a train whistle running through our bedroom. Two little kids (my Dad and another uncle) were sitting in the bedroom floor playing with the train Santa had left for my little brother.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and found my doll and her new wardrobe tucked in bed beside me. My Mom and Aunt had been busy making her clothes.
We had our usual Christmas dinner, complete with all the trimmings. It was a very happy day. But, you know what was really best about it? The war was finally over and our family had all come home okay.
Well, at least it was the best Christmas since the actual birth of Jesus. Had my brother and I been older, we would have been able to read the signs and understand the reason it was special.
The first clue was when Mother took me to the window at Carp's Department Store and had me pick any doll I wanted. She took me in to buy it, but we were told they were all sold but the broken one on display.
Later, I was dust mopping my Mother's bedroom floor and the mop met an obstruction. It was the doll. I didn't tell my parents I had spoiled the lovely surprise by looking in the box. The clerk, a friend of Mother's, had called when someone failed to pick up a lay away. As Christmas approached, my Dad bought chocolate hay stacks, his favorite Christmas candy. He hung a bright red peignoir set on the floor lamp near the tree -- an occasional gift he liked to get for Mom.
Christmas Eve, Bill and Elizabeth came over to play pinochle for match sticks. At the appropriate time, my grandparents and Uncle wandered across the alley with the traditional wicker basket full of gifts. We were sent to bed to wait for Santa.
About 4:00 in the morning, we were awakened by a train whistle running through our bedroom. Two little kids (my Dad and another uncle) were sitting in the bedroom floor playing with the train Santa had left for my little brother.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and found my doll and her new wardrobe tucked in bed beside me. My Mom and Aunt had been busy making her clothes.
We had our usual Christmas dinner, complete with all the trimmings. It was a very happy day. But, you know what was really best about it? The war was finally over and our family had all come home okay.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Don't Let Them Out Without Their Meds
A friend sent pictures of her Christmas tree when she got it set up. That got me all inspired to decorate my living room just before Thanksgiving. But the mood was doused by gray, gray skies and unseasonably cold air. I don't handle extremes of weather well. Heat gives me fever and cold and gray induce seasonal affect disorder. I just couldn't jumpstart my Christmas shopping spirit.
A news anchor mentioned an activity coming December 15, which she said was next weekend. Whoops! That's the date of my youngest son's birthday. Then, an early Christmas card reminded me I hadn't bought mine yet. Here it was Friday the 6th and I had to go out into the cold, dark world. After I got my laundry finished, I hit the road. It was already 3:30 p.m.
So, with flattened affect, I started my shopping at the Dollar Tree. First aisle in the door, I managed to solve the Christmas card problem. (I'm a really big spender). I continued around the corner where a lady was blocking the next entrance. I skipped to the next one. When said lady hit my aisle, I went back to the other where I surmised correctly I would find candy for another son and the grandson who never thanks me for anything but candy. When said aisle blocker returned there with a smirk of a smile, it became apparent she was attempting to rile me. I eventually figured out ways to avoid her as well as another person who was always in my path. Then I rounded a corner where a lady in a wheel chair was pulling a cart right down the middle. I figured she held all the rights on that aisle, so I tried the next one. Oh sigh, it was the one where people were waiting to check out of the store. I was blocked from going forward or right by a person in the center of the aisle. Said person (black) apparently had just finished an altercation with another person. The lady, white, said to her, "I'm sorry, did I just cut in front of you? I can let you in . . ." The aisle blocker glared her to silence. I was paused there waiting for her to notice and move aside or for a break in the interchange so I could ask her to let me through.
Another black lady rounded from behind me and asked several times if she would let her through. When she didn't respond, the second black lady charged right through, knocking against her so hard her body moved backward. If I had done that with my basket she would have been injured. Don't tempt me, Lord, don't tempt me.
For whatever reason, she didn't want to deal with the original person who caused her ire or the one who almost knocked her arm off. She zeroed in on me. I asked in a quiet voice if she would please excuse me and let me through. She ignored me. I waited. I tried again. I told her about the woman in the wheel chair blocking the other aisle. "May I please get through?" She said, "No, you can just wait there while I pee all over myself." I waited. By now she had at least two feet in front of her where she could have moved out of the way. She stayed. I said, "Ma'am, that lady behind you was polite to you and I am being polite . . ." She cut over me saying, "That's not being polite, saying 'May I please be excused.' You want what you want when you want it. No, you can just stand there and pee and shit all over yourself." By this time, of course, the average lay person was able to tell she was emotionally disturbed.
No telling why I didn't lose my own temper. But, as I said earlier, I was in a state of flattened affect. Then she goes into an attitude of prayer, still blocking the aisle. I said -- to Jesus, not aloud -- you don't mean this evil witch is actually pretending to pray. The standoff continued.
When a clerk announced she was opening another line, said black lady almost mowed down everyone in her path trying to get there. My trip through the store wasn't a total trauma after that. I even found a coffee mug of similar shape and color to a favorite I had recently broken. As I shopped, I laughingly told God He should tell her family not to let her out without her meds.
At the exit, a car pulled up and blocked the sidewalk. I skirted behind it and walked against the traffic to my car. The same car turned in front of me again. The driver, another black, was looking at me and laughing his behind off. The car had a sign on it asking "How is my driving?" Did he really want my answer?
Every leg of the trip, I felt like abandoning the shopping I hadn't wanted to start, but there was a reason I couldn't. I needed K-Mart to buy the birthday boy a gift. Eggs were a lot cheaper at Aldis. I had to go to Price Chopper to buy stamps and get $20 and smokes to pay my older son for work he had done for me.
At Aldis I remembered that just before Thanksgiving, 2012, I had run into another certifiable black lady in that store. All the time I was in the checkout line (about ten minutes) plus another ten while packing my groceries, there had been an empty box on the shelf. When I ran out of space in my own bags, I picked up the box and began using it. I was suddenly blind-sided by an angry black woman screaming "That's my box. You take your stuff out of there right now!" She proceeded to throw my "stuff" out on the counter. That time, I had to pray, myself. "Lord, please help me to handle this well." I turned to her and quietly asked if it were hers, why she had left it abandoned on the shelf the staff uses to provide boxes for us all.
I don't know if she had put the box there. It was in my line of view for at least twenty minutes with nobody touching it, so I don't think she had. I believe she saw it from a distance, decided she was going to use it and would start World War III to get her way. Some healthy appearing young man was carrying groceries for her and driving the car. They were parked in a handicapped slot. When she saw me outside, she began to rant and rave again. The memory of this made me joke to God that there must be a nursing home or halfway house for emotionally disturbed people somewhere in the vicinity. I did a double take. The crazy woman at the Dollar tree, the apparent car service, the crazy lady at Aldis, may mean my joke was instead a truth. What am I God, a giant magnet for the insane?
But, ladies and gentlemen out there, I have thanked the good Lord for putting you in my path today. You see, He knows me well. He expected you would be the topic of my newest blog, where readers in countries across the globe can see the true ugliness of your souls.
Be careful whom you choose taunt. And be careful how you tell this tale. Some of your listeners may actually follow my work. They will see the cowardly woman who chose not to confront the two who committed aggressive acts upon her, but chose instead to verbally assault the one who politely asked her to let her pass so she could finish her shopping. And, oh, you were so sure you were the one in the right! I'm just saying . . .
A news anchor mentioned an activity coming December 15, which she said was next weekend. Whoops! That's the date of my youngest son's birthday. Then, an early Christmas card reminded me I hadn't bought mine yet. Here it was Friday the 6th and I had to go out into the cold, dark world. After I got my laundry finished, I hit the road. It was already 3:30 p.m.
So, with flattened affect, I started my shopping at the Dollar Tree. First aisle in the door, I managed to solve the Christmas card problem. (I'm a really big spender). I continued around the corner where a lady was blocking the next entrance. I skipped to the next one. When said lady hit my aisle, I went back to the other where I surmised correctly I would find candy for another son and the grandson who never thanks me for anything but candy. When said aisle blocker returned there with a smirk of a smile, it became apparent she was attempting to rile me. I eventually figured out ways to avoid her as well as another person who was always in my path. Then I rounded a corner where a lady in a wheel chair was pulling a cart right down the middle. I figured she held all the rights on that aisle, so I tried the next one. Oh sigh, it was the one where people were waiting to check out of the store. I was blocked from going forward or right by a person in the center of the aisle. Said person (black) apparently had just finished an altercation with another person. The lady, white, said to her, "I'm sorry, did I just cut in front of you? I can let you in . . ." The aisle blocker glared her to silence. I was paused there waiting for her to notice and move aside or for a break in the interchange so I could ask her to let me through.
Another black lady rounded from behind me and asked several times if she would let her through. When she didn't respond, the second black lady charged right through, knocking against her so hard her body moved backward. If I had done that with my basket she would have been injured. Don't tempt me, Lord, don't tempt me.
For whatever reason, she didn't want to deal with the original person who caused her ire or the one who almost knocked her arm off. She zeroed in on me. I asked in a quiet voice if she would please excuse me and let me through. She ignored me. I waited. I tried again. I told her about the woman in the wheel chair blocking the other aisle. "May I please get through?" She said, "No, you can just wait there while I pee all over myself." I waited. By now she had at least two feet in front of her where she could have moved out of the way. She stayed. I said, "Ma'am, that lady behind you was polite to you and I am being polite . . ." She cut over me saying, "That's not being polite, saying 'May I please be excused.' You want what you want when you want it. No, you can just stand there and pee and shit all over yourself." By this time, of course, the average lay person was able to tell she was emotionally disturbed.
No telling why I didn't lose my own temper. But, as I said earlier, I was in a state of flattened affect. Then she goes into an attitude of prayer, still blocking the aisle. I said -- to Jesus, not aloud -- you don't mean this evil witch is actually pretending to pray. The standoff continued.
When a clerk announced she was opening another line, said black lady almost mowed down everyone in her path trying to get there. My trip through the store wasn't a total trauma after that. I even found a coffee mug of similar shape and color to a favorite I had recently broken. As I shopped, I laughingly told God He should tell her family not to let her out without her meds.
At the exit, a car pulled up and blocked the sidewalk. I skirted behind it and walked against the traffic to my car. The same car turned in front of me again. The driver, another black, was looking at me and laughing his behind off. The car had a sign on it asking "How is my driving?" Did he really want my answer?
Every leg of the trip, I felt like abandoning the shopping I hadn't wanted to start, but there was a reason I couldn't. I needed K-Mart to buy the birthday boy a gift. Eggs were a lot cheaper at Aldis. I had to go to Price Chopper to buy stamps and get $20 and smokes to pay my older son for work he had done for me.
At Aldis I remembered that just before Thanksgiving, 2012, I had run into another certifiable black lady in that store. All the time I was in the checkout line (about ten minutes) plus another ten while packing my groceries, there had been an empty box on the shelf. When I ran out of space in my own bags, I picked up the box and began using it. I was suddenly blind-sided by an angry black woman screaming "That's my box. You take your stuff out of there right now!" She proceeded to throw my "stuff" out on the counter. That time, I had to pray, myself. "Lord, please help me to handle this well." I turned to her and quietly asked if it were hers, why she had left it abandoned on the shelf the staff uses to provide boxes for us all.
I don't know if she had put the box there. It was in my line of view for at least twenty minutes with nobody touching it, so I don't think she had. I believe she saw it from a distance, decided she was going to use it and would start World War III to get her way. Some healthy appearing young man was carrying groceries for her and driving the car. They were parked in a handicapped slot. When she saw me outside, she began to rant and rave again. The memory of this made me joke to God that there must be a nursing home or halfway house for emotionally disturbed people somewhere in the vicinity. I did a double take. The crazy woman at the Dollar tree, the apparent car service, the crazy lady at Aldis, may mean my joke was instead a truth. What am I God, a giant magnet for the insane?
But, ladies and gentlemen out there, I have thanked the good Lord for putting you in my path today. You see, He knows me well. He expected you would be the topic of my newest blog, where readers in countries across the globe can see the true ugliness of your souls.
Be careful whom you choose taunt. And be careful how you tell this tale. Some of your listeners may actually follow my work. They will see the cowardly woman who chose not to confront the two who committed aggressive acts upon her, but chose instead to verbally assault the one who politely asked her to let her pass so she could finish her shopping. And, oh, you were so sure you were the one in the right! I'm just saying . . .
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Casting Call For Techies
There seems to be a nationwide shortage of people with high-level computer programing skills. How do I know this? I read a lot. I even watch television news and information stories.
Mark Zuckerberg and other technical entrepreneurs need qualified people with such skills to fill positions soon.
It is my opinion that there are many skilled programmers looking for work -- especially recent college graduates. If you have such skills, especially with a college degree from any reputable university, why not check the Websites of some of the California based companies? If you have not already checked the Websites of these firms, why don't you do so to locate vacancies as well as needed credentials and information on how to apply? There may even be national agencies who look for potential employees for these firms.
If you need a job and are not averse to moving, what an opportunity this would be for you. Wouldn't it be nice to leave tornado alley, snow and ice or hurricane seasons for sunnier climes?
There just needs to be someone willing to put the companies and the potential work force in touch with each other. In fact, if there are not enough agencies head hunting in this area, perhaps your future could be to start up such a company.
Good luck to all sides.
Mark Zuckerberg and other technical entrepreneurs need qualified people with such skills to fill positions soon.
It is my opinion that there are many skilled programmers looking for work -- especially recent college graduates. If you have such skills, especially with a college degree from any reputable university, why not check the Websites of some of the California based companies? If you have not already checked the Websites of these firms, why don't you do so to locate vacancies as well as needed credentials and information on how to apply? There may even be national agencies who look for potential employees for these firms.
If you need a job and are not averse to moving, what an opportunity this would be for you. Wouldn't it be nice to leave tornado alley, snow and ice or hurricane seasons for sunnier climes?
There just needs to be someone willing to put the companies and the potential work force in touch with each other. In fact, if there are not enough agencies head hunting in this area, perhaps your future could be to start up such a company.
Good luck to all sides.
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