Fair

What is fair?  Fair by definition is being free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice.

Who is fair?  Not a whole hell of a lot of people any more.

Being fair was more predominant in our grandparent's day and age.  Or so I've been told.  People took better care of one another back then.  You worked your tail off for fifty years with one company and you were awarded a pension.  Back then the top brass didn't gamble away your 401K, leaving you nothing and feeling no remorse from it.  And although organized crime and shady individuals were around even in that era, for the most part people really did try to do what was best for one another.

But times have changed and the world has taken on more of a "Me-My-Mine" attitude.  Don't merge in front of "Me" on the freeway.  Don't you dare take "My" parking space, and what's "Mine" is more important than what's yours.  The extent of one's caring doesn't go much further than the confines of their immediate family it seems.  Showing no concern for anyone other than yourself appears to be the norm.

Although this is all very wrong I have learned to live with it to a certain degree.  I don't accept it, I just realize that actions like this are everywhere today and I try not to add anything to make it worse.  What does aggravate me though are the people and the organizations who exploit the meaning of fair and twist it into something that they can live with, or what their warped perceptions deem clear.

I submit to you exhibit A: the Fair Labor Standards Act.  How fair can this be when they explicitly state (relating to overtime in the workplace) that "An exempt employee has virtually no rights at all under the FLSA overtime rules".  It also goes on to add "Nor does the FLSA limit the amount of work time an employer may require or expect from any employee, on any schedule.  ("Mandatory overtime" is not restricted by the FLSA.)

This ridiculous smattering of words has been brought to my attention in the light of a possible strike that may occur within my wife's organization.  Non-exempt employees will be negotiating their contract next year so my spouse and many other exempt employees like her have been given their strike duties should one arise.  The assignment will take her about 200 miles south of where we reside, and result in five to seven 12 hour work days with no promise of returning home until the contract is successfully agreed upon.  In my mind the fairness of this raw deal stops just shy of not providing food and shelter for them . How can the FLSA, as well as her employer, expect these employees to work this type of schedule, for no additional pay, and to possibly be away from their families for such an extended period of time?

And I hate to sound this way but the only thing fair in this situation is the fact that there's a good possibility that these disputing employees could finally have to shell out something for their health care, unlike how they've had it in the past.  Honestly it shouldn't have to be this way for anyone, especially employees of an organization of this size, but today's reality is that there are very few companies who can afford the full brunt end of these costs anymore.  For several years now we've had to pay out-of-pocket costs for our family health plan so what's asked of one group should be asked of all.  Both sides of the workforce should have to pay, regardless of exemption.

Ignorant parents and the wake they leave in their children's lives is also not fair.  It's almost inevitable that one learns that there are distinct lines drawn in the sand between average folk and the fortunate people of this world.  Society opens all sorts of doors for those with money, and greets you with smiling faces if you belong to aristocracy.  But if you're an average Joe like myself and you're not cut from the same mold as these people then you normally spend your time on the outside looking in.

If you're a kid on the other hand, silly titles and checkbook balances aren't determining factors in who it is that you call your friends.  It really shows how messed up we are as adults when we harbor all of these predetermined notions about one another while our kids play together in total oblivion of the other's status.

A couple of years back, my then ten year old daughter had been enrolled in a summer arts program at our local university.  While there she met a young girl in one of her classes and the two of them quickly became friends.  They called each other on the phone and planned sleepovers but very few of their plans would ever materialize.  For my daughter's golden birthday we rented a limousine to take her and her friends out to dinner but both of the child's parents had felt it was inappropriate and declined our offer for her to attend.  Many attempts to get the girls together would go unfulfilled until a comment was made to us that clearly spoke volumes as to why things were what they were.

I don't remember exactly what this child's mother said, as much as how she had said it.  It was clear that she was uncomfortable with where we came from, and all the while she was putting us down for where we lived she seemed totally oblivious to the fact that she was being so rude and condescending.  In her mind there was some kind of difference between our type and where we came from verses the families who lived on Lake Drive.  It wasn't until that comment was made did my wife and I see that this relationship was doomed from the start.  And not by any of the girls wrong doing, but by a parent.  A parent who could only see a social and financial divide between two children and not the friendship that they made with each other.

My daughter had tried to contact her by phone for months after this but the messages were never relayed.  Her calls were never returned.  We had found out that the father owned a popular restaurant in our downtown area, one that ranked very high on my all time favorite list I might add, and one I will probably not set foot in again because of this.  But even if my attempts at a boycott fail to bring this establishment to it's knees I'm sure they'll survive.  Did I mention that the mother is an heir to an established and equally well known family business?  Something tells me they'll do just fine with or without my patronage.

Sadly in that case it's our children who are the ones that ultimately pay for such insolence, but as adults we're not strangers to ignorance and unfair practices ourselves.  Take for instance the neighboring fire company of which I spoke of back in August of 2007 (Does blowing out someone Else's candles make yours burn brighter?).  The group I spoke of back then are still treating my department and my co-workers with such disrespect it's pathetic.  They walk around with their chests puffed out feeling they are above everyone they work with when in fact we have more qualified EMT's on our department than they have on theirs.

Egos are easily bruised, and if it was just that I could leave it there.  But it goes well beyond reputations and bragging rights.  They've stuck their nose in our business far too many times and have single handedly delayed the forward motion of our EMS program.  They claim it's out of their concern for the patient but anyone alive knows it's money related and not much more.

There's also an element of power that they could lose if we forge ahead and succeed with our plans.  Their company is down on manpower and I would attest that some of it is due to their own members being tired themselves of getting treated in such a diminutive manner.  When my department decided to cease operations with them we cut their roster to half so on paper they're a far cry from what they used to be.

If it truly was in the name of greater patient care I could see someone treating us in this fashion, but it's not, and it never was.  Its always been about who calls the shots and who gets the check, something of great priority to the individuals who we're up against.  Our department has plenty of people who are willing and able to provide the level of care that our community and its citizens deserve.  We've also got the equipment needed to do this but for now it sits idle in our building pending further reviews.  We're close, it's just not happening as soon as we'd like due to a few threatened individuals who have no place in our business to begin with.

What it boils down to is that we don't need the approval of a neighboring department for us to protect what is duly ours.  What would be fair in this case is if they would just let us do our jobs.  The hypocrisy in this whole ordeal is that five years ago they chastised us for not having a plan to provide such coverage and now that we can they want to shut us down.  The current system in place does little for our patients and could even put them at risk if we delay transport.  It's one thing to be unfair to someone in the workplace or because of their social or financial status.  It's another when the almighty dollar takes precedence over some one's life.

So what will it take before people are fair to one another again?  We enjoyed it briefly after 9/11 but I think the compassion has died down some since then.  I certainly don't want to wait for another disaster for us to bond again and become more aware of each other's needs.  I think good old fashioned common sense and a little less greed is a good place to start.

No podium finishes in my immediate future

I did it again. In my never ending quest to find out if I can still pilot SOMETHING at speed, I competed in the annual Backwards Enduro at the Badger Kart Club this past weekend. The results were less than expected.

Rewind one weekend ago and you'll find me attempting to actually enter a race in a class that I would belong to had I had a kart of my own. HPV Senior. The name alone conjures up thoughts of older guys like myself who either still have it, or are still convincing ourselves that we do. On the contrary the class age requirement states "16 and up". Sixteen years! Senior? Somehow the two of them don't coexist in my vocabulary.

I quickly put to rest the notion that I could even stay up with these younger "Seniors" and concentrated on anyone with as many wrinkles in their face as I have. After failing to find many of these drivers, and failing to just keep the kart on the track, I began to work on me and me alone.

Seven sessions out on the track and an equal amount of spins and crashes finally dictated that my time was up for the day. In hindsight I feel session three should have been the quitting point but you know how stubborn middle aged men can get. I felt I had some unfinished business to take care of but quickly realized what was unfinished was my ability to spin in EVERY corner and hit just about everything on and off the track. Kart and driver were still in one piece at this point so I retired for the day while I was still ahead.

When Sunday morning came I was so sore I could barely get out of bed. I was in such bad shape physically (and pretty much demoralized) that I had prayed for the forecasted rain to come early so I could avoid looking like a Nancy and pack it up for the day.

Be careful of what you ask for is how the saying goes. As luck would have it I rose to the occasion, sucked it up, and had an unbelievable practice session. I took my normal spot at the back of the pack and as we left the grid I found karts off the track everywhere. In one lap we lost more than half the field, and I was still standing! I went on to record my fastest time of the weekend and managed to save my son from running a half mile to rescue my stranded butt. All of this would be in vain though as the rain literally came while we pushed our karts to the grid for our race. They called the day's events shortly after.

Fast forward one week and a better rested, somewhat wiser version of me is ready to face the music all over again - But in the wrong direction.

Tracks are built to go in one direction. Proper runoff areas are designed to restrain rogue vehicles, saving driver and equipment in the event of a crash. Or an "Off" as we like to say in the business. When you change the direction of travel on the course these large runoff areas are now in the entrance to a corner. What greets you at the exit in most cases is a very small area for mistakes. The club does a nice job of moving hay bales and pillows around to accommodate this but they're still very intimidating when they are that close to you on the track.

My trouble for the day began when certain parts of my anatomy were growing at a much faster rate than my intuition. I kept pushing the limit of how close to the edge of the track I could take my kart to at the exit of the last corner. If I could get this right and carry all of my speed through this portion of the track I could be so much quicker overall. I had to get this right if I was to survive a twenty minute enduro with guys much more experienced and a good deal faster than me.

Le Mans starts are required at events like these, and this year I was a bit late in getting myself on the track. Once I finished stuffing myself in the seat, and Sam got my engine started, I assumed my ever familiar position at the back of the pack.

I worked for what seemed like an eternity at establishing a rhythm where I began to feel like I wasn't going to get run over by everyone. Three different classes were competing in my group so we were never spread out very far from one another. Every lap I took myself further and further out to the edge of turn eleven in hopes of carrying as much speed as possible through the fastest part of the track. In a couple of cases I got my left side just off the track surface and scared the living hell out of myself.

The third time would not prove the charm as I came through with my left side fully in the grass. And like a tractor beam had locked on me, I was collected in an instant with nothing to do to avoid the imminent impact. I went through the pillows, through the hay bales, and through the timing beacon. The hydra barrier was the last line of defense between me and a chain link fence. My day was over and there was only one minute left in the race.

So with that I brushed off my ego, cleaned the kart up a bit, and called 2008 a wrap. Even though I totally choked with a minute left I had a great time. It's my only time behind the wheel every year so whatever comes of it, outside of death and/or mutilation, it's a plus for me. I know now that the smack talk my son tosses at me from time to time is well deserved. I may not see a podium in my near future but I'll be happy to keep working at it. Even if it is only one weekend a year.

In writing, you can be anyone you want

A while back my wife had just finished reading a short salutation that I wrote on my blog (So long 2007! -Dec. 31st 2007) when she quipped "That doesn't sound like you at all".

I'll admit the words weren't something that one would hear me actually say on a regular basis, but nonetheless it was something I truly felt at the time and had to convey in my message.

The thing is when you write, you can really become (or be) anyone that you want. It's kind of an anonymous profession where outside of anyone who personally knows you you're free to take on a persona of your choice. And pen names can add that final layer of anonymity, just look at J.K. Rowling.

I'll be the first to say that I have a long way to go in my quest at becoming the next Ernest Hemingway, but I believe that even in my literary infancy my pen speaks louder and clearer than my spoken word.

This became evident in all of us really when we were children. When you were in the sixth grade there was no way you could profess your undying love for little Suzy in any other way than by letter. A few scribbled words later and you were good to go. If you sat and tried to think of what to actually SAY to her, she just might graduate from college and start a family before you could find the right words or the courage to confront her.

What makes writing easier for me is that I suffer from a condition called "I think too much therefore I can't speak" syndrome. I know what I mean to say, I just don't say it when the whole process translates from thought to audible grunts and tones.

The other nice thing about writing is that I get as many chances as I'd like at sounding good. Perfection, or something close to it, is just a few keystrokes and a Delete button away. On the other hand you only get one stab at getting it right verbally before you either make your point or you roll eyes and clear a room.

If your objective is to offend someone, then it's much easier (and safer) to do it in writing than verbally. Although I recall never having a problem doing this in person before, my older and wiser self thinks otherwise today.

And some people are hard to get a face-to-face with so you find yourself at times forced to handle issues in this fashion. Like Hugo Chavez for instance. Man, if I could get five minutes with that guy. But who am I kidding? I'd tell him to read my blog (The NO List -January 25, 2008) and then run like hell before his armed guards could shoot me.

You can play with styles too. It doesn't matter if you're a beer and pizza kind of guy, you can come off like a wine and cheese socialite if you pen your words right. I for one have yet to discover what my particular style is. I haven't attempted fiction so most of my stories are more or less journals and editorials. And because of this I tend to think of myself as more of a Tony Bourdain than a Bill Shakespeare but that all depends on content and emotion. I can change faster than a bipolar chick five days past her prescription refill so what I choose to write about at any given time is any one's guess.

So for now I'm having fun doing just that, not knowing what it is that I'll go rambling on about. What I do know is that I'm going to keep on doing it, whether it sounds like me or not.