Category Archives: Nonfiction

Wages

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– Wages –

By Jon Reed

Once upon a time, companies paid employees by handing them paper checks issued by a payroll department every other Friday afternoon. Not surprisingly, attendance was higher those days, much to the irritation of management. Except, of course, if Michigan’s first day of deer season fell on a November 15th Friday, few employees showed up at all. Paper checks were standard before computers existed and commercial banks had improved electronic abilities. Handing over pay to civilian workers was a little different than the United States military pay system for servicemen at the time.

After enlisting in the United States Air Force, I discovered the difference. At the end of our second week in basic military training, we were lined up to receive our first pay. We had been screamed-at and harangued for so long, we were being handed cash for belonging to the military. Standing under a broiling sun, surrounded by snakes and scorpions, it was quite bizarre for a young man at the time. We were paid something like $30 in greenbacks, although memory fails after so long. It worked out to about 600 hours or five-cents an hour, somewhat less than my salary as an engineer only a few weeks before.

Sergeant Tough Guy sat with an open cash box on a card table. Near his right hand lay a loaded M1911 Colt .45 caliber automatic pistol pointing right at us. I suppose it was meant to prevent foolish people from making a grab for the money. I had no idea whether the gun would go off if the card table collapsed, but I’m sure it would have put a large hole through several trainees with a single round. Oddly, there is no history of anyone robbing a Lackland Air Force basic military training cash box.

Of course, with $30 to spend every two weeks, like everyone else I had no idea what to do with it because there was no place and nothing to spend it on. The Post Exchange only sold toiletry articles, chewing gum, magazines, and souvenir United States Air Force tee-shirts. No one wanted more souvenirs than bad memories of crawling through live-fire training ranges under barbed wire and mines exploding to keep things interesting. No, we had enough souvenirs, thank you. Returning to civilian life after the military, I was glad our company didn’t line us up for our pay every other Friday with a loaded .45 pointed in our direction.

But it changed in the early-seventies when we were informed wages would henceforth be automatically transferred to us in a new Direct Deposit Program without worrying about lost time and paperwork costs. A week before the new program was to begin, my wife and I discussed the changes it would bring. We decided to split our responsibilities so she could manage most of it. Thursday afternoon before the program began, I called home and she said, “We need some cash for the weekend. Can you stop at the bank and get $180? We need two fifties, three twenties, and two tens.”

I was confused, thinking she didn’t understand the program. “Listen, it’s Thursday. We don’t get paid until tomorrow, Friday, the 15th of the month. We don’t have $180, in our account. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow night or Saturday. I can’t go today and try to take out more money than is in our account.”

“Yes, you can. The transfer to our bank takes place tomorrow morning at 12:01 am Friday. The bank cannot register a withdrawal transaction this afternoon until tomorrow and the start of Friday’s business day.” She was growing impatient. “Listen. Just tell them your wife said it’s alright. And could you pick up some clean clothes from the dry-cleaners on Michigan Avenue, afterward?”

I hung up thinking trying to withdraw money that wasn’t there couldn’t work and I would be painfully embarrassed. Besides, I’d never heard of anyone walking out of a bank with more money than they had on deposit unless they were waving a gun and chased by wailing squad cars. And what was with the dry cleaners request? How can anyone pick up dry-cleaner clothes without a ticket?

I pulled up to a teller’s window at 5:30 pm that afternoon and filled out a withdrawal slip. Minutes later, the vacuum canister whooshed away a piece of paper requesting two $50’s, three $20’s, two $10’s, along with my driver’s license. A querulous, disembodied teller’s voice came over the inter-com, embarrassed and confused, as if dealing with early dementia. “I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t seem to have enough money in your family account to cover this transaction.”

I could feel my face blushing but no one was around. This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen. All I could say was, “Well, we’ve just implemented a Direct Deposit Program. My wife said my salary for this pay period will be transferred to the bank at 12:01 am before the Friday business day begins … and that to tell you that it’s alright.”

There was a slight pause while this was assimilated, and I wondered whether the bank’s security personnel or city squad cars would begin arriving with wailing sirens. Instead, a sympathetic voice came back, “Oh. Well then. It’s alright then, isn’t it?” The vacuum tube whooshed and the canister came back with a clunk, complete with $180, bank slip, and driver’s license. “Have a good day, sir.”

I drove away, still wondering about the power of a wife’s permission and direction. Now greatly emboldened, I walked into the dry-cleaners shop ten minutes later and gave my name before mentioning I didn’t have a ticket to pick up our clothes. But my wife had said it was alright. The owner gave me a long look and shrugged, before I paid the bill and he handed over the clothes. As I put them in the trunk, I realized I was set for life; all I had to do from then on was say, “My wife says it’s all right” and I could get away with most anything.

Top 5 Myths about the “Real World”

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Top 5 Myths about the “Real World” by John McCarthy

I recently read a syllabus for a college course that struck me as odd. According to the syllabus, the instructor stated that he was preparing his students for the real world. How? If students brought out their cell phone in class they would immediately be told to leave the class. Also, if a student is sent out of the class twice during the course, that person would be kicked out of the course.

This is not made up. Based on the instructor’s faulty logic, people in the workforce are fired without opportunity to redress or remediate the problem, when there is often some sort of due process. Even if the logic was true, if employers let go of employees for the most minor of faults, they would be under staffed, and would be critiqued by their boss for the high cost of constantly retraining new employees. Most likely the manager would be fired for creating such disruption in the work force.

Here are some other myths about the real world that are perpetrated in schools. See which ones you may have encountered:

  1. Late work will not be accepted.

In the real world, a supervisor needs a memo or work product even past the deadline. In most cases, the staffer charged with the task is still required to get it done. Will there be a consequence afterwards? Yes, either officially or unofficially. The staffer may get a dressing down, warned, written up, and/or not be given such responsibility for a long while. Firing is a possibility, but usually not the first option. The work must get done, and if it’s high quality, the staffer might get off with no official penalty.

Accepting late work sends the message to students that they are not off the hook and must get it done.

  1. Listening to music using earbuds while working is a distraction.

There are many offices, cubicles, and cafes where people work while listening to music. They wear earbuds or headphones so as not to disturb others. Work time is different from times for lectures and discussions. Banning the practice denies the opportunity for coaching students on proper etiquette.

  1. Do not ask questions during emergency drills.

A mother shared with me how her child received a demerit for talking during a tornado drill. On the surface, this seems appropriate. If you’re talking then you and those around you won’t hear the instructions from the authorities. In this case, the offending student was asking another student why for a tornado drill they were marching outside to another structure. The other structure was a tornado shelter, which makes sense to an adult mind. However, this child did not understand and asked the teacher, whose adult-minded logical response did not satisfy the concerned child, “But why would you go outside at all if there were a tornado?”

While idle chatter is not appropriate, inquiring questions should be welcomed. People ask questions about different situations and under different circumstances. Schools and most workplaces are not military installations. Speaking up to inquire under any conditions is an important skill, just as responding to someone’s concerns under difficult conditions is critical.

  1. When students fail due to low test scores and missing assignments it’s their responsibility.

Students do share a responsibility to do their best and complete all tasks assigned to them. It’s also the teacher’s responsibility to model perseverance by providing all resources to meet the needs of their students. These efforts can be draining, yet determination and doggedness can lead to students turning around and finding success. How can we expect students to learn to persevere and strive past obstacles if the highly trained professionals give up on them–and the students know it?

In the teaching workforce, when an employee struggles to be effective, they are placed on a work plan. The intent is to help the person improve their practice so as to get off the plan. The process can be quite extensive. Both teacher and administrator are responsible to work together. We should offer the same real-world opportunities to all students.

  1. If a student fails a test there are no retakes.

Only in academia is this practice believed to be the way of life. In many other fields, future professionals can take the required tests multiple times until they pass or get the score that they need. Such examples of these tests for professional certifications include C.P.A (accountants), Bar exam (lawyers), ACT & SAT (prospective college students) and state certification for licensure of teachers.

Allow students to retake a test when they are ready and have grown in their understanding. It’s more important to have highly skilled students then a collection of grades based on the archaic practice of averaging scores.

What are other myths about the real-world that you have experienced or heard about? Post them in the comments section below.

Crowdsourcing

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I was looking into crowdsourcing as a possible way to publish Broken String next year. Kickstarter.com is the one I was looking at, but there are others. Crowdsourcing is a way to find supporters to fund your “project.” That project can be just about anything from a space satellite to a movie, or a book. You start by pledging something in return for supporters’ dollars. One project offered to shout out your name in a ballpark for a pledge of one dollar, but most just offer tee-shirts, mugs or deep discounts on the product they are trying to get started. Kickstarter has had some success with publishing books, but mostly graphic novels and children’s books from what I see on their website. They’ve had a little success with fiction books, but most fiction titles I see are “non-starters;” projects that did not raise the amount of money needed in the time allowed. Non-starters don’t happen and no one is obligated to anything. The project turns into digital dust.

Gulp.

It’s like a poker game where you’re all in. If you win, you’re up, up and away. But if you lose, you’re left with just hot air and no balloon. I’d love to hear from someone who’s published a novel this way, to get an idea of their experience. I’m not afraid to take a chance, I just want to have a look over the cliff before I jump.

Reading through some of Kickstarter’s history and success stories, it seems the most fully funded projects are the ones where you, yourself, bring in a lot of supporters in the beginning. The best way seems to have a rollout where you create a lot “buzz.” Then launch the project on a specific day and get your “circle” to “support” the project on Day-1. That initial surge of interest gets the casual Kickstarter members checking out what all the fuss is about.

That’s great if you’re a big satellite company or a movie mogul where you’ve got thousands following you on social media, but it’s scary for a lonely fiction writer whose circle of friends could be corralled with his belt.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Check out Kickstarter.com if you haven’t already. It’s easy to get lost in some of the projects, many of which are fascinating new ways to tackle old problems, like the mechanic’s glove with a magnetic index finger to hold nuts and washers in place at odd angles. Brilliant!

Would a suspense novel be a success? Would folks want to read it enough to actually buy it? You know, with money? What do I have to lose? Well, confidence for one thing. It’s like amateur night and I’m at the mike. Hope people will laugh at my jokes, but what if they don’t? This isn’t my first trip to the mike, so to speak. Guess I won’t know if my audience is growing or shrinking unless I try.

Kickstarter gives “publish or perish” a whole new ring to it these days. Any hints, ideas or suggestions to help me sleep at night?

Tales From the Garden – Part 2

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I had such a good time volunteering at the Chicago Botanic Garden my first summer that I decided to go back the next year. This time I volunteered in the Fruit & Vegetable Garden. It was an entirely different experience.

All the Fruit & Vegetable volunteers, usually about four of us, would arrive early in the morning, before the garden officially opened, and meet in the Fruit & Vegetable Garden Office. The staff would tell us all about the plant we would be giving away that day. They would also prep us so we could answer basic questions about its care, use and how to cook it.

Then we’d go into the garden to the carts. One cart was parked just at the entrance to the Fruit & Vegetable Garden. The other was somewhere in the middle. One volunteer would staff each cart and the other two volunteers would walk through the garden greeting people and answering their questions. We’d change jobs every hour.

F and V 2

From the Chicago Botanic Garden’s Website www.chicagobotanic.org

The carts were made of wood and painted brown. There was plenty of room on the inside to keep all the plants we would be giving away that day. On the shelf at the top we would display a few plants to create interest. We’d also put our information sheets there. On one side, the sheet would tell all about the plant, its history and how to take care of it. On the other side, the sheet would have one or two recipes telling how to cook it.

I always tried to get the cart at the entrance. I met more people that way. I’d approach them as they entered the garden, saying, “Good morning! How are you?” Usually they’d respond back.

I’d continue, “Would you like a plant to take home today? They’re free and it’s a lot of fun growing them once they start producing peppers (tomatoes, basil, etc.). We also have a sheet that tells how to grow it and there are some recipes on the back.”

From the Chicago Botanic Garden’s Website www.chicagobotanic.org

From the Chicago Botanic Garden’s Website
www.chicagobotanic.org

Most people said yes. Usually each person in the group wanted their own plant, especially the children. Sometimes people would stop and talk. They’d share how their gardens were coming along at home or how the last plant they’d gotten from us had done.

I always saw lots of smiles. Everyone likes to get something for free, especially when it’s something they can take home, grow for themselves and then actually eat.

The summer passed before I knew it and I had to go back to work. Next time I’ll tell you what I did my third summer at the Garden!

Falling in Love with Perfect Arrangements

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KellysDuring my college days, I became friends with a girl who was valedictorian of her high school class. She sometimes annoyed me with her intellect. After a test in our art history class, she and I milled about and fretted over how our individual results would rank on the class curve. She worried and said, “I think I failed.” Only later, we found out that she scored the highest in the class. This routine repeated on several occasions and I learned pretty quickly that her failing just wasn’t possible.

Besides being very smart, she was tall and beautiful. Guys noticed her and liked talking to her; however, I can’t remember her dating any of them. Devoted to her faith, she wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol and I never saw her break that rule. She and I didn’t have deep discussions about our beliefs, but I knew that she wasn’t Catholic like I was, at the time.

At some point during our undergraduate years, she confided that she was going to be introduced to a man whom her parents had arranged for her to marry. That revelation seemed preposterous to me. We were ambitious young women with career objectives! We were close to breaking free from dependence upon our parents—close to being able to support ourselves. An arranged marriage seemed like a step backwards in time. I couldn’t imagine marrying someone I didn’t choose myself; someone I didn’t know and love.

She began regularly meeting with the man and eventually said she had grown to love him. They married and I hoped her love for him was true. I wanted her to be happy.

When I knew little about arranged marriages, I viewed them as oppressive, stifling, controlling. During my recent attendance at an Orthodox Jewish wedding ceremony, my opinion changed. I saw great beauty in symbolism and tradition and in genuine expressions of love. This particular arranged marriage showed me that helping sons and daughters select a spouse is one of the most precious gifts parents can bestow upon their children.

The parents of the bride and groom had prepared and shared family résumés with one another. Then, their children exchanged personal résumés and became interested in going on a first date. But it wasn’t a typical dinner and movie; instead, it was a sit-down, serious discussion about hopes and dreams, faith, family, goals for the future. The children got to know one another through subsequent meetings and eventually decided that they wanted to wed one another.

Those steps, starting with the exchanging of résumés, may seem too calculating and business-like for our modern, American society—secular or not, conservative or liberal. Culturally we’re accustomed to finding a mate through spontaneity, chance encounters, being in the right place at the right time. We trust in love at first sight—we like what we see, then we take time to evaluate whether or not our love interest has the other qualities we’re looking for in a spouse.

If those measures don’t work, we embrace well-intended efforts by friends who play match-makers and we turn to online dating services. Why not consider the opinions of the two people—mother and father—who love their child most?

My seventeen year-old son recently told me that he was going to go out on a date, that evening, with a girl who I had never heard him mention. I asked him to show me a picture of her because I wanted to see how she represented herself to others. There was something revealing in that picture: pursed lips and a flirtatious, seductive tilt of the head. My son had shared that image from the girl’s Twitter profile. So, I had to wonder what he really knew about her, beyond finding her physically attractive. He admitted that he didn’t really know anything more, except that she attended the same high school.

Aha. Time for a little parental guidance. I told him that, before dating any girl who expresses her interest in him, I’d like him to know what qualities he’s looking for in a future wife. I reminded him that a common faith is very important; at least it was for his dad and me. Customs, habits, traditions, morals are influenced, in our case, by our faith in Christ. My son will have to decide for himself what is important, but I made it clear that my hopes for him are that he’ll consciously look for specific, admirable attributes in the girls he chooses to spend his time with.

With similar aspirations for their children, the Orthodox Jewish parents sought out a family that complemented their own. I’m sure they considered faith, first and foremost, as well as community involvement, personal education, and reputation. I’m not sure if finances were specifically disclosed, but the families’ respective priorities could be determined by the way they spent their time and money. The parents were responsible for helping their children find their intended spouses. But the young couple wasn’t forced to marry. Their opinions mattered.

The groom knew he didn’t have to marry the first woman his parents approved. His older brother had gone on dates with twenty-five different ladies before finding his own bride. The repetitive and time-consuming search may have been slightly frustrating to the parents, who were increasingly unsure of whether or not they would ever marry the elder son off. But they valued his input and supported him throughout the sensitive process.

When my son announced that he had cancelled his date with Twitter Girl, I was relieved and proud. He had taken what I said and thought about it. Then he had the good sense to call one of his female friends from our church’s youth group for additional advice. He described her as having “the best judgement of anyone I know.” She told him Twitter Girl wasn’t the kind of girl he should be going out with. I happen to love this girl from church and used to have her in mind when I would confide in my friends, “If I could only choose who my children marry…”

Now, more than ever, I admire the practice of a closely-knit community of Orthodox Jews who arrange marriages for their children. I respect the groom’s father, who I know as a kind and generous man.

During the wedding reception, I was blessed to see deeper into his heart.

“Your new daughter-in-law is stunningly beautiful,” I commented.

He was well-acquainted with her, smiled at me, and simply replied, “Yes, she is. Inside and out.”