Raising Cain

Glenn Reynolds links to this NYTimes column regarding the slippery slope of the ever expanding definition of sexual harassment.  Since no one has offered any substantive specifics on just what Cain did or didn’t do, and whether it crossed any legal or moral boundaries, it seems to me this situation is as likely to be political dirty tricks as it is inappropriate behavior. 

Having recently retired after 34 years of federal government service, this post brought back memories.  We had annual mandatory workshops on “sexual harassment” and “diversity” and sometimes the content was downright Orwellian.  My favorite story was the time the diversity instructor told us solemnly that the paper easel he was using for his presentation should not be called a “flip” chart as that term would be considered offensive to people of Filipino origin.  Instead, we should call it a “rip chart”.  To our credit, several folks immediately burst out laughing.  And then we started asking what we should do if called upon to “flip a coin”.   Or if we could no longer “flip the bird” when cut off in traffic.  In went on in that vein until the flustered diversity expert gave the class an unscheduled coffee break.  I guess he was surprised we all flipped out on him by being so flip about such a serious matter.

Slip slidin’ away

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Me on X-country skis in the White Mountains of Arizona, circa 1981.  It’s been 30 years.  That blows me away…

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,

Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,

Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten

Long and long ago,

As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall

In a long forgotten snow.

                                                       —Sara Teasdale

A letter from my email…

Subject: FW: To All My Valued Employees (Great Letter)
 
 

To All My Valued Employees,There have been some rumblings around the office about the future of this company, and more specifically, your job. As you know, the economy has changed for the worse and presents many challenges. However, the good news is this: The economy doesn’t pose a threat to your job.

What does threaten your job however, is the changing political landscape in this country. Of course, as your employer, I am forbidden to tell you whom to vote for – it is against the law to discriminate based on political affiliation, race, creed, religion, etc.

Please vote for who you think will serve your interests the best. However, let me tell you some little tidbits of fact which might help you decide what is in your best interest. First, while it is easy to spew rhetoric that casts employers against employees, you have to understand that for every business owner there is a back story.

This back story is often neglected and overshadowed by what you see and hear.  Sure, you see me park my Mercedes outside.  You saw my big home at last years Christmas party. I’m sure all these flashy icons of luxury conjure up some idealized thoughts about my life. However, what you don’t see is the back story.

I started this company 12 years ago. At that time, I lived in a 300 square foot studio apartment for 3 years. My entire living space was converted into an office so I could put forth 100% effort into building a company, which by the way, would eventually employ you.

My diet consisted of Ramen Pride noodles because every dollar I spent went back into this company. I drove a rusty Toyota Corolla with a defective transmission. I didn’t have time to date. Often times, I stayed home on weekends, while my friends went out drinking and partying. In fact, I was married to my business — hard work, discipline, and sacrifice.

Meanwhile, my friends got jobs. They worked 40 hours a week and made a modest $50K a year and spent every dime they earned. They drove flashy cars and lived in expensive homes and wore fancy designer clothes.  Instead of hitting Nordstrom’s for the latest hot fashion item, I was trolling through the Goodwill store extracting any clothing item that didn’t look like it was birthed in the 70’s.

My friends refinanced their mortgages and lived a life of luxury. I, however, did not. I put my time, my money, and my life into a business — with a vision that eventually, some day, I too, will be able to afford these luxuries my friends supposedly had.

So, while you physically arrive at the office at 9 am, mentally check in at about noon, and then leave at 5 pm, I don’t. There is no “off” button for me. When you leave the office, you are done and you have a weekend all to yourself.  I unfortunately do not have the freedom.  I eat, ****, and breathe this company every minute of the day. There is no rest. There is no weekend. There is no happy hour. Every day this business is attached to me like a 1 day old baby.

You, of course, only see the fruits of that garden — the nice house, the Mercedes, the vacations… You never realize the back story and the sacrifices I’ve made. Now, the economy is falling apart and I, the guy that made all the right decisions and saved his money, have to bail out all the people who didn’t.

The people that overspent their paychecks suddenly feel entitled to the same luxuries that I earned and sacrificed a decade of my life for.  Yes, business ownership has its benefits but the price I’ve paid is steep and not without wounds. Unfortunately, the cost of running this business, and employing you, is starting to eclipse the threshold of marginal benefit and let me tell you why:

I am being taxed to death and the government thinks I don’t pay enough. I have state taxes. Federal taxes. Property taxes. Sales and use taxes. Payroll taxes. Workers compensation taxes. Unemployment taxes. Taxes on taxes. I have to hire a tax man to manage all these taxes and then guess what?   I have to pay taxes for employing him. Government mandates and regulations and all the accounting that goes with it, now occupy most of my time. On Oct 15th, I wrote a check to the US Treasury for $288,000 for quarterly taxes.  You know what my “stimulus” check was? Zero. Nada. Zilch.

The question I have is this: Who is stimulating the economy? Me, the guy who has provided 14 people good paying jobs and serves over 2,200,000 people per year with a flourishing business? Or, the single mother sitting at home pregnant with her fourth child waiting for her next welfare check?

Obviously, government feels the latter is the economic stimulus of this country. The fact is, if I deducted (Read: Stole) 50% of your paycheck you’d quit and you wouldn’t work here. I mean, why should you? That’s nuts. Who wants to get rewarded only 50% of their hard work? Well, I agree which is why your job is in jeopardy. Here is what many of you don’t understand .. to stimulate the economy you need to stimulate what runs the economy. Had suddenly government mandated to me that I didn’t need to pay taxes, guess what?   Instead of depositing that $288,000 into the Washington black-hole, I would have spent it, hired more employees, and generated substantial economic growth. My employees would have enjoyed the wealth of that tax cut in the form of promotions and better salaries. But you can forget it now.

When you have a comatose man on the verge of death, you don’t defibrillate and shock his thumb thinking that will bring him back to life, do you? Or, do you defibrillate his heart?   Business is at the heart of America and always has been. To restart it, you must stimulate it, not kill it. Suddenly, the power brokers in Washington believe the mud of America are the essential drivers of the American economic engine.

Nothing could be further from the truth and this is the type of change you can keep. So where am I going with all this? It’s quite simple. If any new taxes are levied on me, or my company, my reaction will be swift and simple. I fire you. I fire your co-workers.   You can then plead with the government to pay for your mortgage, your SUV, and your child’s future. Frankly, it isn’t my problem any more. Then, I will close this company down, move to another country, and retire.

You see, I’m done. I’m done with a country that penalizes the productive and gives to the unproductive. My motivation to work and to provide jobs will be destroyed, and with it, will be my citizenship.

While tax cuts to 95% of America sounds great on paper, don’t forget the back story: If there is no job, there is no income to tax. A tax cut on zero dollars is zero. So, when you make decision to vote, ask yourself, who understands the economics of business ownership and who doesn’t?  Whose policies will endanger your job? Answer those questions and you should know who might be the one capable of saving your job. While the media wants to tell you “It’s the economy Stupid” I’m telling you it isn’t.

If you lose your job, it won’t be at the hands of the economy; it will be at the hands of a political hurricane that swept through this country, steamrolled the Constitution, and will have changed its landscape forever. If that happens, you can find me in the South Caribbean sitting on a beach, retired, and with no employees to worry about.

Signed, Your boss,

Michael A. Crowley, PE
Crowley, Crisp & Associates, Inc.
Professional Engineers
1906 South Main Street, Suite 122
Wake Forest , NC 27587
Phone: 919.562.8860 x22
Fax: 919.562.8872

Today is the day

That I post something hear on my long dormant blog.  I’m living a boring mellow life these days, and what little I have to say about, I’ve been saying to my Facebook pals.

Still, I feel bad about not putting this domain to work.  So I’m thinking I’ll do something here, even if it is just sharing a favorite photo each day.  Who knows, maybe I’ll even come up with a brilliant insight now and again.  But to avoid disappointment in that regard you might ought to just come for the pictures.

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So, I started blogging here back in December 2004.  That’s also the month I took a vacation in Istanbul (because I couldn’t Constantinople).  Yeah, my jokes are about as good as my photography skills.  But hey, that’s never stopped me, right?  Anyway, this photo is of the famous Hagia Sophia.

Dazed and confused

Had a bit of a Twilight Zone experience on the way to East Sea. The plan was to take Highway 6 all the way, but somehow I missed a turn and wound up on a different road. The signage indicated it would lead to Gangneum (my destination) so I wasn’t too worried.

And then suddenly I was in a parking lot. Seriously, one minute I driving two lane blacktop and then I’m not. Well, at the far end of the lot was a sign with an arrow that said “Gangneum” that led up a one lane alley. When I got to the top I drove into fog. Thickest fog I ever did see. I continued to creep forward barely seeing past the hood and damned if I didn’t find myself in ANOTHER parking lot. And I couldn’t find a way out.

I’ve never been lost in a parking lot before and it was more than a little disconcerting. I must have driven in circles for 10 minutes before I found a narrow outlet which fortunately eventually led to the bottom of the mountain and out of the fog. I’m sure there were quicker ways down, but the one I found included pavement, so I guess I got lucky…

Some photos from the trip:

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Stayin’ alive

Well, just a quick check-in to let the faithful few know that we are still alive and kickin’.  Having some interesting times here in the Land of the Morning Calm, but also looking forward to getting back to my American life later this month.

You may have noticed that LTG was hijacked recently due to some malware that was in some old blog rolling code I used.  Got that fixed, so at least you can check in and see what I’m not posting about.  Although I do have good intentions to get back to posting one of these days…

What they are teaching in school these days…

Well, at least at Lake Carolina elementary.  My daughter-in-law shared this gem brought home by her fourth grader:

“A Moo Way to Look at Isms”

Socialism: You have two cows.  Give one cow to your neighbor.

Communism: You have two cows.  Give both cows to the government, and they may give you some milk.

Fascism: You have two cows.  You give all the milk to the government, and the government sells it.

Nazism:  You have two cows.  The government shoots you and takes both cows.

Anarchism: You have two cows.  Keep both cows, shoot the government agent and steal another cow.

Capitalism: You have two cows.  Sell one cow and buy a bull.

Good stuff.

Finished with engines

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My father died today.  He spent the better part of his life as an engineer with the Merchant Marine.  It is a maritime tradition that when a member of the engine department passes away he is said to be “finished with engines”.

My father had been in failing health for some time but if pressed to identify the cause of death I’d have to say he died of a broken heart.  Losing mom after 61 years of marriage took both an emotional and physical toll.  I think he survived as long as he did so he could be there to take care of mom.  Without her his life lost meaning and purpose.

He was 83 years old and by any account he lived a long, and often hard, life.  He was nothing if not strong willed.  His passing was inevitable but I was surprised by how quickly he went in the end.  I believe he just decided it was time to go, so he went.  By all accounts it was a peaceful and easy departure.  Perhaps that’s the best any of us can hope for.

His desire was to have his body donated to the medical university.  After jumping through some bureaucratic hoops today we were able to make that happen.  Dad was always generous in his own quiet way and certainly wouldn’t want a big deal made of his parting gift.  And he made it very clear that a big funeral was not for him.  So I hope this simple tribute will suffice to do justice to his memory.

Dad, you were an amazing man and truly one of a kind.  You’ll be missed by all who knew and loved you.

My father was a lover of poetry and some of my earliest memories are of him sitting in his easy chair reading his favorite poems out loud to us kids.  And I distinctly remember him reciting this one on some long ago day:

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me;
“Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”
 

–“Requiem” Robert Louis Stevenson

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Dad

I just wanted to update y’all regarding my dad.  He was moved to the hospice ward at the hospital yesterday.  I’m sure you understand the implications of that.

He was hospitalized last week with pneumonia, and he has gotten progressively weaker.  He’s been unable to swallow so he was being fed though a tube in his nose to his stomach.  That’s a short term solution and they wanted to insert a tube directly through his stomach.  In his condition that’s a risky surgery, but necessary given the alternative.  Against my advice, he declined the surgery.

So, the goal of Hospice is to keep the patient comfortable.  I’ve not given up hope that he will regain the ability to swallow and can take nourishment by mouth.  If not, well, he’ll just fade away.

Sorry to be sharing this sad news, but thought you’d want to know.