What was to be the minimum

The minimum wage has an enormous impact on the life of many of the poorest Americans and increases to it costs small business owners money and possibly the viability of their business.  With such large stakes and the current increase proposal, this seemed like a good time for me to make some jokes about it while I sit in my leather chair in the house I live in by myself that I pay for by working for a company where no one is paid the minimum wage.  Because you know, people like me know best.  To further endear me to the general public, I'll be using economic jargon and equation based models to enforce my points.  I have another blog where I post my fiction and short stories, so that might be a better destination for some readers. 

The question of whether to raise the minimum wage always brings up the argument that people will lose jobs, more small businesses will go under, and the costs of many products will increase diluting the gains the minimum wage earners achieved.  The response given to those arguments is that inflation has widely outpaced minimum wage increases since 1980, that changes to the minimum wage is one of the most studied topics in modern economics and there is a large body of evidence indicating that there is little change to job numbers in response to modest increases to the minimum wage. 

To me the first argument makes more intuitive sense, but when I look at the data I side more with the latter.  According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (Motto: Objective, timely, accurate, relevant, or none of the above) There are about 74 million workers paid on an hourly basis, and of those only 1.7 million are paid the minimum wage. Interestingly, 2.2 million have hourly wages below the minimum wage, because as it turns out, there are exemptions to the minimum wage including: certain disabled workers; full-time students employed in retail or service stores, agriculture, or colleges and universities; and those under 20 years of age who qualify for the youth minimum wage.

So this change likely wouldn't affect most people who are paid below the minimum wage.  I'm not saying this is good, I'm saying this is one reason we have not historically seen a lot of impact from these changes, the way my weight does not change when I make new years resolutions to exercise everyday because I have the exemption that days where I eat ice cream exempt me from working out that day. 

All that said, minimum wage earners tend to be younger (about 83% are 24 or younger), and let me say this, I don't care for these young people.  The young men keep trying to date my little sister so I see no reason why they should be given more capital to pursue that endeavor, and the women won't date me so I see no reason to reward them financially for spurning my romantic advances.  So, I propose that the minimum wage be increased, but only for workers over 25. 

What was to follow passion

When I hear that the K-12 students in this country have fallen behind other rich countries in Math, sciences, etc. I don't feel very surprised or even concerned. I was never good at math until I took my first econ class and realized that was what I wanted to do, then I got very good at math very quickly.

I think that performance follows passion and our educational woes are less a problem with our teachers and more an issue with the culture.  Some extraordinary teachers can change a student's personal ambitions and ignite their passions, but this is not true across all students even for those teachers, and it is not a skill set that can be imparted during an in-service day.  That said, I think in our homes we can help our children find where they are most driven to excel and I have not lost hope for our country or faith in the rising generation to find their passions and keep this country competitive.

That said, there are areas I do see this country falling behind in that are not at all acceptable

 The picture above is of Mexico's current president Enrique Peña Nieto.  Now, when President Obama was elected there was a lot of passion on both sides, but I think that when we got down to it he was elected not because of his experience or vision, so much as it was an image play.  Which I am fine with.  More and more we live in a technocracy driven by special interests, so if they want to make the figurehead handsome and enjoyable to listen to, that's fine.  But if we're going for that, let's at least make sure he's the best looking figurehead we can get.  I mean, look what Mexico came up with. 

I'm not saying President Obama is not a handsome fellow, but if he and President Peña are sitting at my table and I want to get a group of women to join us, I'm probably sending Enrique over there to make the pitch, with the expectation that the women will follow their passions. 
 

What was to be shorn

I must have grabbed an old razor before I left on my last trip, because I had only used it a few times before it was cutting my face up like a prison snitch.  I rarely enjoy shaving and typically sport a few days of stubble, not because I think I pull it off in a roguish, dashing manner, but rather because it takes some fairly significant event like a meeting or a date to make me feel like it is worth the trouble to shave (meetings are a lot more common than the dates by a factor that is too depressing to post here). 

From time to time I wonder about going old school with a straight razor, a shaving cream brush, and a strap of leather hanging near my sink for sharpening.  I wonder if I wouldn't appreciate the process and routine more that way.  But there is also something to be said for the stubble. 

But I enjoy the stubble.  There is something comforting about rubbing my fingers against it when I am deep in thought or trying to create the illusion that I am deep in thought.  And there is something comforting about the idea that if an ice age starts tomorrow then I will be a few days ahead of schedule in growing a warming facial covering. 

What was to be amusing

It is always with some measure of reluctance that I stray very far from my home.  I have invested in a mattress, towels, furniture and other amenities so that few places are more comfortable for me.  My house is also on a very steep hill the better to fend off barbarians, vandals, and other visitors. 

When I do venture into other parts of the world I always take to heart the words of Aurelius Abrosius, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."  So when I'm in Memphis I go to various barbecue establishments, when I'm in Texas I effect a drawl, and when I'm in Chicago I make it a point to get shot.  To do otherwise would show a lack of recognition and respect for local customs and traditions.  So as I find myself in Florida's Orlando this week, I venture into some of their world-famous themed parks.

This is the right time of year, it seems, for this sort of excursion, as the crowds are small and the traffic is virtually non-existent.  But my body, it seems, does not appreciate the quick succession of jarring and disorienting rides.  It has become accustomed to slow life in the country, the steady monotony of the treadmill, and the easy acceleration of the hybrid.  It does not appreciate being made to spin around and having its ocular senses assaulted with a stroboscopic lights.  It seems fine with the occasional roller coaster, but would prefer to avoid the more exotic feats of engineering.

This physical unease that I then feel as I sit outside the ride and wait to regain  my composure is compounded by the metaphysical unease that comes from feeling that I am innately unqualified for this sort of entertainment and the worry that there may be other activities for which I am preemptively disqualified as well.  Is a low motion-caused nausea threshold correlated with other attributes the opposite sex finds unappealing?  Is my low tolerance for spinning why I don't enjoy dancing or granting clubs my patronage?

As I sit there; my head swimming with these thoughts and my stomach churning with my breakfast, I look around and think, "Well, I suppose someone has to stay out with the stroller and the bags."   



 

What was to be airborne

I hate flying, but I love the takeoff.  I love the feel, I love the sound, and I love watching the ground move away.  But then the fun is over and you're just in small tube 30,000 feet above the ground surrounded by strangers, some of whom are infants and toddlers and behave accordingly.  Then there is the classic decision of whether or not to strike up a conversation with your neighbors.  Do they want to be left alone or if started will they not shut up for the rest of the flight?  This admission will not shock those that know me, but I typically opt not to start the conversation. 

I typically resolve my flight issues by sleeping through the trips.  I traveled a lot for work from 2007 to 2009 and I used drugs and revised sleeping schedules to condition myself to sleep on planes, which may be another reason my mind enjoys the trigger of the takeoff.  Although, the sleeping strategy works best when you have the window seat and can be problematic when coupled with other seating assignments.            

The worst part of flying though is the experience in the airport.  It's like if the DMV made you take off your shoes or if your church made you show up at least an hour early to sit there or wait in line.  In an upcoming trip I have a 4 hour layover.  The city hardly matters, because that's almost the perfect amount of time to not be able to get out into the city, do something, and get back through security.  It's a 4 hour layover in an airport which is a problem for me, because in recent years, I have had to work very hard to not be bored when I’m close to lots of food.  Thus, the airport is an impossible scenario for me, so I will no doubt be found at JFK at a table laden with all manner of foods while I people watch and watch or read something innocuous.  

What was to remain unfinshed

It's not that I haven't been writing, it's that I don't want you to read what I have been writing about.  My room is a mess, my kitchen needs cleaning, my clothes are wrinkled, and I don't have all the records I need to file my taxes.  In nothing am I a perfectionist except for what I write and present professionally and academically.  But it's not even the helpful kind of perfectionism where the finished product is clean and neat and creates a significant impact.  My perfectionism is a more insidious type that is based on sterilizing all of my output so it can never be used against me.  Hidden away in my draft folders are the posts about gun control, race, gender, and a variety of other current issues.  I write, and rewrite, then save and close out the browser without posting, confident that no one is going to yell at me on facebook.

Same with work.  I peform the analysis, write up the reccomendation, create any appendix deck, then email it only to myself and no one else if I think there is any room for someone to point out a flaw or superior approach. 

I do not believe the reason behind this witholding of product is a lack of self-confidence, but rather an odd personal utility curve over others' perceptions of me.  I prefer the reputation and lifestyle of a lazy/unmotivated genius to that of an up and coming go getter who makes his share of mistakes.  "Him? Oh yeah, he's brilliant, never seen anything but the best work come out of his office, but he's pretty slow getting around to requests." 

And I probably would have changed this behavior by now if work didn't keep rewarding me for it. Sometimes I entertain the possibilities of where I might be in the world if I applied myself more strenuously,  took the bigger swings, and made the bigger bets.  But it's hard to imagine that version of myself in the alternative reality getting as much sleep as I did last night, enjoying his long lunch any more thand I did today, and having time to write a blog post instead of paying attention to this HR presentation. 

What was to be serialized

I have had writer's block for a few weeks now; also, worker's block, and house cleaning block.  I would add social block to that list, but that has been going on for years now and isn't accurate to include it in the list of recent and probably temporary maladies.  The holiday time was busy for me as far as work went with one colleague on vacation and another on maternity leave during a very busy rush of campaigns.  I had a few company holidays but ended up working for a few hours on each of them with some rush requests.   It didn't seem bad in the moment, but has left me feeling burnt out and lazy in the New Year.

That said, I am a good member of the economy and have not shirked from my responsibilities as a consumer.  I just finished consuming the Band of Brothers miniseries, which I have been avoiding up until now as I thought it was a documentary about the Hanson brothers (I'm concerned that joke dates me and I should have used Jonas Brothers to be young and hip).  What I chiefly enjoyed about this miniseries was that they had the capacity and took the time to illustrate what things were like for that company of men between the heroics and the terrifying battles.  The waiting and the anticipation for events not easily predicted.            

Most WWII dramas have time to take a few minutes to show the boys writing home or joking around ;a vignette of life in camp. But I thought this was interesting in that they had more time to delve deeper into the distinct personalities and how they interacted, developed, and responded in such high stress scenarios.

You watch these depictions and wonder how you would respond in similar settings, and as pale as the comparison may be, I have to wonder taking these last four weeks, if I wouldn't respond well during the battle, but afterwards sleep in too much, not write home, and go too long without doing the dishes.