Two of the three checks that went missing after I mailed them to the credit union almost two weeks ago have finally posted. Mercifully, one was from Google Adsense, an outfit whose customer service is so horrific I had about decided to just eat the $160 loss rather than try to do battle with them.
So $460 of the floating $560 has made it to shore. The hundred-dollar check from the limited partnership, which I’d posted in personal checking, has yet to surface. However, I had told the partnership that their check was disappeared, and so they may have already stopped payment on that check. Presumably they’ll issue a new one. But if not, a hundred bucks I can do without…five times that, no.
Well, all that rhapsodizing about how much extra money resides in the checking account just turned into a dirge.
Yet another piece of paper came from the Social Security Administration, informing me that my monthly checks are about to drop to $974. That’s the net on $1,257 after the dings for taxes and Medicare: a 23 percent gouge.
Which reminded me that I still haven’t signed up for Part D, another hassle and hoop to jump through. That will have to wait until next week, since the next few days are going to be very hectic. And that I haven’t paid the Costco membership. And that I haven’t paid the COBRA bill for April.
At any rate, the cut in “pay” isn’t as drastic as it looks, because the $200 to $300 a month COBRA has been lifting out of my pocket has come from net income, and so it’s really about a wash. Medicare, Medigap, and Part D will add up to about $240 a month, about $40 more than this month’s COBRA payment that includes Delta Dental. So even though the paycheck drops precipitously, the amount I have to write checks for isn’t quite as high.
Except of course it isn’t a wash. Medicare is higher than COBRA, and it doesn’t cover dental care. Delta Dental will go away after the ARRAS discount ends, because its cost to private individuals is higher than the cost of routine care. To have enough on hand to cover the inevitable major dental work that comes with age, I’ll have to self-escrow something every month to put into an account to pay for future dental disasters. How much, I can’t imagine. A crown costs about a thousand bucks around here, so I suppose that would be about $83 a month.
Because Medicare fails to cover dental care, I’m allowed to keep the COBRA coverage for Delta, which I will do until September, when the ARRAS discount expires. Meanwhile, in another week I’m getting a new crown on the tooth I broke when I bit down on an olive pit—it’s been patched with a large filling, since the ding didn’t hit the pulp and nerve, but the Doc agrees that it’s going to have to be fixed while I still have some coverage.
Mercifully, he says I shouldn’t need a root canal. Ugh!
Delta’s coverage is pretty piddly. I’ll still have to pay half the cost of the crown, around $400 or $500. That will have to come out of my year’s emergency savings, which I’ve kept in the bank for 2010 where it’ll be handy if I find I can’t live on my income during this especially penurious year. Thank God I have it! Otherwise I’d just have to wait until the tooth starts to rot and then have it pulled.
In the tax gouge department, I think it’s likely that I’ll get the money back next April, since I’ll earn so little this year that a) the cost of Medicare combined with the long-term care premiums, nine months of Delta Dental premiums, the crown, and God only knows whatever medical bills happen next will exceed 7.5 percent of adjusted gross income; and b) net earned income probably will be so low that I won’t owe tax on Social Security at all. But meanwhile, I have to live until next April.
Hmmmm…. Did you know contact lenses and the cost of over-the-counter contact lens solutions are considered eligible medical expenses? That’s interesting; I thought those were vanity items. They’ll also accept the cost of Lasik eye surgery and getting your teeth straightened. If you kept track of all the stuff you’re allowed to count as medical expenses and you didn’t earn much, you just might hit that 7.5 percent threshhold. On a $35,000 income, that would only be $2,625. If you’re not getting health insurance through your employer, then you can count your healthcare premiums…and in that case, $2600 isn’t very much. Even if you made something closer to a living wage, say 50 grand, health insurance premiums could easily combine with fairly routine care to push your costs up to the $3,750 that is 7.5 percent of that salary.
I wonder if health insurance premiums will still be deductible under the new regime? Since Medicare qualifies, it’s reasonable to think they’ll make the new required premiums deductible, too.
Doesn’t matter for me: Arizona intends to opt out of the federal healthcare plan, anyway. Our intrepid leaders opted out of Medicaid, so I expect they’ll get their idiotic way with this, too.
So after a mildly hectic day that entailed an unplanned trek to Tempe (a place I’d hoped never to have to visit again), Cassie and I are sitting in the study when we hear a bizarre noise. She starts to bark. I run out to the front of the house in search of the source of the odd sound.
It sounds like a large insect is trapped under one of the unwashed pans occupying the kitchen sink. Cassie is going berserk. Then I realize that no! It’s not coming from the sink. Looking upward, what should I find but a hummingbird frantically trying to get out through the skylight!
I’d left the screen door hanging open, and the little bird had flown indoors. In her confusion, she fixated on what she thought was the sky. Here she is, clinging to the seam between the drywall and the glass, too exhausted to move:
What was needed, I figured, was for someone to climb on the roof and throw a dark blanket over the skylight, so the bird could see the light below and make her way downward and back out the back door. This was not a job for an old bat.
Meanwhile, in the course of dragging the frantic dog out of the kitchen so she wouldn’t terrorize the hummer any further, I dropped her and she landed on her face. That didn’t do her any good.
It was after 5:00 p.m. The Audubon Society was closed. M’hijito regularly works until 6:30 and later, and I’m not allowed to call him at his job. SDXB lives almost an hour’s drive away and by this hour was likely to be fully engaged with the current New Girlfriend. None of my neighbors are any more capable of climbing on the roof than I am.
Eventually I managed to get a couple of volunteers from Liberty Wildlife on the phone. They’re located in far north Scottsdale, too far across the sprawl to drive into my part of town. Called Gerardo the Wonder-Yard Guy; he said he’d send one of his underlings over.
Meanwhile, M’hijito e-mailed me, causing me to realize he must be home. Got him on the phone. He said he’d come over and try to catch the bird.
Then one of the wildlife rescue volunteers called back and put me in touch with a young fellow who, interestingly, lives just a few blocks from M’hjijto. He also headed in my direction.
So within a few minutes three young men of varying sizes and linguistic sets showed up at the door. M’hijito climbed up a ladder and managed to corral the little bird inside a small plastic-lined wicker basket, padded with a napkin for protection. Amazingly, he got her down out of the skylight in one piece.
When we carried her outside, she was so petrified she just sat there. We thought she must be injured, but when the wildlife rescue guy reached in to examine her, she shot into the air like a rocket and took off at jet speed—pursued by an enraged competitor.
The wildlife folks (one of whom was soon back on the phone) worried that she would need to get food, since she would have exhausted so much energy banging herself against the skylight. I’m pretty sure there was still enough light for her to feed off some flowers—the place is awash in blossoms just now, and this morning I saw several swarms of tiny gnats, a favorite source of hummer protein.
Cassie, also, seemed to be OK. She was playing with the wildlife guy, pestering him with Ball, so I guess she wasn’t seriously hurt.
Via e-mail from The Kid, now employed in a full-time editorial job in the precincts of Our (former, in my case) Beloved Employer:
So we all know that the GDU budget is currently a mess. There are a lot of rumors floating around the department and school about cuts, very similar to what we saw right before we got canned. I stay out of all of this. I’ve got other streams of income and won’t be affected as drastically.
Today I receive an email from the Dean of the Business School that there will be a town-hall style meeting to dispel some of the rumors and get some facts out there.
This is where it gets interesting: a professor chimes in that, in the spirit of Obama-esque redistribution of wealth, she as a faculty member suggests an across-the-board cut in faculty salaries to keep the staff in place and at their current pay rates. Imagine that?!? My supervisor replied that she too agrees with this plan. Now a stream of emails have flown back and forth with a number of positions on the budget. But the fact remains, some people actually may value our work and would prefer the take a pay cut than lose us. Unselfish in America? Never thought I’d see the day…
Another “town hall”? LOL! How many of those performances are the poor deans going to be made to put on? These little plays layer unrealistic optimism (shall we say…) with a light sprinkling of straight talk to try to plump up morale among the troops. The degree to which they work depends on the degree of the listener’s gullibility.
Voice of Experience to Kid:
How much you believe the rumors…well, it’s ambiguous. Some of the stuff is just hot air, some of it is kinda prescient, and a bit of it is even true. Don’t recall whether I shared this with you guys, but about 18 months before we were canned I was told in no uncertain terms that we would be gone by that fall. Hm…that would have put us on the street in September of ’08. A departmental chair told my friend La Maya, who is tenured on the West campus, that he had been to a university-wide meeting in which Capaldi told them, in “confidence” and swearing them to secrecy, that by September of 2008 all academic professionals would be let go.
That’s why I started searching for jobs that summer, and that’s how I came to get interviewed for a program director’s position at the Botanical Garden. After weeks of worry, it occurred to me that I happened to know a guy on that committee, one of my coreligionists. The university had posted the minutes of the meeting online, complete with attendance, so I knew Bill had been there. Called him on the phone and asked him point-blank if that was what Capaldi said. Without a pause to think about it, he said no, nothing even vaguely like that had happened.
There’s really very little you can do when rumors are blowing on the wind, other than try to ignore them. And always to be on the lookout for another job. Listening to that shit can drive you nuts. It’s probably good to know in general that something is up, but if you think too hard about it, it’ll make you sick.
About two weeks ago, I e-mailed the credit union to ask if some franked, printed mailing envelopes I had on hand bore an address that was still correct for depositing checks by mail. Several branches had closed since the CU had given me these envelopes, and I wanted to be sure the address remained valid.
Well, no: as a matter of fact it wasn’t. The “Contact Us” people sent me a fistful of new envelopes plus a fistful of deposit slips, with no comment.
The sole convenient aspect of working on the main campus of Arizona State University was that a branch of the credit union resided in the basement of the student union. The West campus, which is closer than Main, also hosts a branch, but it’s not a lot handier to my house than Tempe. Although it’s only a 15- or 20-minute drive away there’s nothing else over in that part of town for me to do: no stores that I frequent other than a Costco that’s even further up the road, a big gasoline-gulp away from the Costco where I normally shop. By the time you’ve made a round trip to nowhere for the privilege of dropping off a few pieces of paper with a drive-up teller, you’ve killed an hour of your time to accomplish rather little. I find that frustrating.
Unfortunately, some clients cannot or will not do direct deposits. I had a check from Google—their online system through which you can request direct deposit doesn’t work any better for me than for the many other people who complain that it doesn’t work—a dividend check from a limited partnership, and a check from a publisher, amounting in total to about $500. Having many other things to do other than drive an hour to shuffle paper, I used one of the credit union’s self-addressed envelopes and a deposit slip to send them in.
Bad. Never do that.
The checks are now lost in the mail or at the credit union. It’s been two weeks, and there’s no sign of them.
Day before yesterday, I called the credit union and explained that I had dropped the envelope in the mailbox outside the local post office a long time ago and would like to know if the checks were in transit somewhere in their office. The answer was no; their customer disservice rep asked me to go to the post office and ask if they could trace the lost mail. I said I couldn’t imagine they would be able to find one piece of mail among the millions of envelopes that pass through their system. He said well, that was the policy.
So yesterday I traipsed over to the post office, waited a good 20 minutes in line, and told a P.O. customer disservice rep this story. She shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about it,” said she, quite predictably and quite reasonably.
“Why do you suppose companies tell people to go to the post office and ask about lost mail,” said I, “when it’s pretty obvious that there’s no way you find one envelope among a zillion?”
“I don’t know,” said she, “but they do it all the time!”
So, five hundred dollars worth of checks for deposit are lost. I called the partnership and the publisher, each of whom said they’d try to stop payment on the checks. Apparently if someone has already cashed them, I’m just out the money.
Where the Google payment is concerned, I’m probably going to have to eat that. AdSense has exactly zero customer service. There’s simply no way to reach a human being. Every question is referred to Google’s uninformative website.
At that website, you find an option to cancel payment for a check that hasn’t arrived. As far as I can tell, there’s no way to tell them that they need to stop payment on a check that has arrived but has been damaged or lost. To put through a stop-payment order, I would have to lie and say the check never reached me. But it in fact did reach me, and I endorsed it and tried to deposit it.
Google moves with the speed of a galloping snail when it comes to dealing with customer issues. It also is notorious for canceling people’s accounts arbitrarily for any real or imagined offense. Obviously, if the check reaches the credit union before Google gets around to stopping payment on it, Google’s people (if there are any) will think I’m trying to steal $157 from them. So, rather than having the whole Google lash-up canceled just as it’s beginning to earn a little money, I guess I’m just going to have to let it go.
Makes me mad as a cat!
At any rate, the moral of the story is simple: Never send checks to the bank in the mail.
Reviewing the first quarter of post-Canning Day finances, I’m amazed to discover that I’ve not been spending as much money as I budgeted, and not anything near the amount that’s been flowing into the checking account. In fact, on average I’ve spent about $1,100 a month less than income!
The reason for this, of course, has been the part-time teaching, which will end in May and bring in nothing for two and a half months, when expenses rise into the stratosphere.
But…but my $805/month nondiscretionary budget, which includes those soon-to-be-stratospheric utility bills, is based on the bloated summer rates. So in theory, as long as I stay within the discretionary spending budget of $800, even in the summertime I shouldn’t be spending much more than $1,600 a month. In June and July, my income will drop to about $1,390 a month (maybe less, if I put my latest scheme in action—see below). That’s about $210 short. But with $3,400 sitting there from the first-quarter budget underruns, in theory it shouldn’t matter. Those two unpaid and two underpaid months would eat up only about $420 of the three thousand bucks residing there from the first quarter.
Here’s how this shakes out:
Yipe! The average monthly net left in my checking account, income minus expenses, has exceeded $1,100 a month!
Part of this happened because Social Security has been dragging its feet on withholding income tax from the benefit it’s paying. I’ve now asked three times and am assured that in April my SS payment will be $1,008, down from $1,257.
So, in April Social Security income drops about $250; in May teaching income drops in half and in May and June drops to zero. In August teaching income starts up again, with one paycheck that month, two a month from September through November, and one again in December. Net Fidelity income is $389 a month, giving me a net income of about $1,389 in June and July. For the entire year 2010, the result looks like this:
Can that possibly be correct? This suggests that teaching 3 and 2 and collecting $385 net a month from the Fidelity 403(b) will leave me with a surplus of over $9,000 at the end of the year!
Amazing, isn’t it…
Well, the state General Accounting Office demanded that I take a drawdown from my Fidelity 403(b), lest my request to collect my RASL be rejected. This worked contrary to my purposes, because that money needed to be left in investments in hopes that during the time I still have the strength to work, it will recover some of the losses incurred during the crash of the Bush economy. So I asked for $500, the least I thought I could get away with. The net on that is $389 a month.
The fact is, now that the first of the three annual RASL payouts has been approved and transferred to my keeping, it’s unlikely the RASL administrator is going to notice what’s going on with my drawdown. So, I’m thinking I should continue to draw down $500, but have only $100 deposited in checking, rolling over the remainder to my big IRA, which is professionally managed and doing quite well. Another advantage of this strategy is that it would drop my gross income into a lower tax bracket and might insure that none of my Social Security would be taxed at all.
To get 100 after-tax dollars in my sweaty little hand, I’d have to ask for a $125 transfer to checking (i.e., $125 – 20% tax = $100). This would leave $375 a month to roll into the IRA: $4500 a year. It would look like a $500-a-month distribution, but in fact the lion’s share would be extracted from the plain-vanilla 403(b) into my better-managed IRA with no tax consequences.
In terms of my cash flow, what would happen? Collecting $100 instead of $389 a month would remove $2,601 ($289 x the remaining 9 months) from the bottom line above for 2010:
Okay. So, what if I cut Fidelity income to $100 a month for the entire year of 2011? Could I survive? Let’s assume a 3% inflation rate for expenses, since everything but our paychecks is going up fast. In this scenario, I again teach 3 & 2 instead of 3 & 3:
Huh. Almost $5,000 left at the end of the year. These figures translate to after-tax funds I can use to pay toward my share of the mortgage ($9,000 a year) in 2011 and 2012, delaying serious drawdowns from retirement savings another two years!
So, if there’s that much play in the budget, why on earth am I working at all? What would happen if I didn’t teach in 2011 but instead collected the net $389 on a $500 monthly drawdown from Fidelity?
Yes. The Copyeditor’s Desk, Inc., would earn enough to cover the shortfall and more over the course of a year. As we come to the end of the first quarter, the corporation is holding $2,218, and I’m doing precious little freelance work! Net after a 20% tax payout would be $1,774. That’s for a single quarter in which I’ve made no effort to find work.
Teaching one section would net $1,920, more than enough to break even.
I have to ask you, isn’t that the most amazing thing you ever saw? I can’t believe my expenses are that low in this four-bedroom house on a quarter-acre with a big pool and a forest of fruit and ornamental trees.
And yes, it has occurred to me to wonder if I’m being too frugal here. Surely I can afford to get my hair done by a better stylist than the $30 guy—last week he left me with a tuft sticking out at the neckline and a kind of box-like cap on top. Possibly I can afford to buy some clothes somewhere other than Costco. Or, who knows? Maybe I could even afford a cell phone.
I don’t feel like my life is pinched. I still shop at AJs and Whole Foods; I still buy plants at the fanciest nurseries in town. So…is this money happening, or what?
