Coffee heat rising

Idle essays

The least important bill

by

Plonkee, spinning off a Simple Dollar post, contemplates her most and least important billsand asks, “If you order your bills from most important to least important, could you get rid of the one on the bottom of the list?”

Interesting exercise! After thinking about it, here’s what I’ve come up with. Some items tie for various places, because they’re of equal importance (or lack thereof). Some are automatically engorged from my paycheck, so I have no immediate choice in the matter.

From least to most important:

11.

newspapers, magazines
clothing
misc. junk
I can do without these, at least for a while. I have enough clothing to last for a year or more; none of us needs junk; and while I would miss my magazines and the newspaper, they’re strictly luxury items.
10.
yard man
Though I couldn’t begin to do all the yardwork around this house by myself, the world would not end if it were let go for several months. The yard is xeriscaped, so it won’t soon be waist-high in weeds. And besides, so many houses in my neighborhood are showing signs of blight, a neglected yard would not be noticed.
9.
whole life insurance policy
This policy is 30 years old. If I default on the payments now, the insurance part will go away, but I still can collect about $23,500 in cash value.
8.
long-term care insurance
This policy bets that I will need nursing care before I die. While that probably is so, if I quit paying the policy remains in force to a limited extent, and so it would still defray nursing-home costs to some extent. Given a choice between a long-term bet and groceries, I’ll take groceries.
7.

dental insurance
house repairs
homeowner’s insurance
My teeth are pretty good and require only routine care. At least temporarily, I’d be willing to do without the dental insurance. However, the cost is only about eight bucks a month, and so things would have to be very extreme for me to forego it.
House repairs are more urgent than yard care. Matters that have to do with safety or livability would need attention. But things like paint or a cracked window could be neglected without much harm.
Carrying homeowner’s insurance is tantamount to buying air. You make a bet that something bad will happen and that when it does you can’t afford to pay repairs out of pocket. While that may come to pass, people who don’t live in the path of natural disasters rarely experience catastrophic property loss. I probably could forego the home insurance for a time.
6.
gasoline
In a city where all amenities, including grocery stores, are miles apart, a car is an important tool. However, my age gets me a senior citizen pass on the buses to the tune of 50 cents a ride, and so in theory I could, if forced to it, commute to work, shopping, and doctors on our weak excuse for public transit. This would be extremely difficult and time-consuming, and I’d give up other things first.
5.
groceries
You’ve gotta eat. But you don’t gotta eat quite as high off the hog as I do. Food is my one consistent self-indulgence. With no risk to my health, I could cut my bill in half by eating cheaper food; foregoing wine, beer, and good coffee; and cooking frugally.
4.

car registration
property tax
Now we’re in the realm of costs that can’t be ignored. If I don’t pay my car registration, the state will rescind my registration and my car insurance will be canceled. It’s against the law in Arizona to drive without insurance or without registration. If I got in an accident before the police caught me, levied huge fines, and confiscated my car, I would be hugely liable.
Nonpayment of county property tax results in confiscation of the property and eviction from your home.
3.

electric
gas
water
phone
In our climate, you can’t get by during the summer without power. A person my age would die of heat exhaustion in 115-degree heat. Water also is crucial to survival here.

2.

second mortgage
The Renovation Loan is actually a 30-year fixed-rate second mortgage on my house. Although payments are small, if I default, my house could be confiscated. This needs to be paid.

1.

health insurance
In America, you can’t get health care without insurance. Well…you can, but a) it’s not easy; b) you won’t get it when you need it; and c) it won’t be adequate. You don’t want to gamble with this one.
So, could I get rid of my least important bill? No problem! I could probably dispense with my three least important bills (items 9 through 11) without much distress. About the time you arrive at level 7, things start to get ambiguous. The top five items are indispensable. What, then, would be my minimum level of expense if I stayed in my house and maintained my job?
If I dispense with my car and ride the bus everywhere, the monthly nonfood bills would be as follows:

$175/month: property tax
$225: electric
$ 24: natural gas
$120: water
$ 87: phone
$170: second mortgage
$ 26: health insurance
$ 30: bus rides, approx.
$857
Phoenix being a city whose designers noted everything that Los Angeles got wrong and then deliberately did that, living here with no car is not very practical. Keeping my nine-year-old car would make the rock-bottom monthly tab, before groceries, look like this:

$ 241/month: car insurance, property tax
$ 225: electric
$ 24: natural gas
$ 120: water
$ 87: phone
$ 170: second mortgage
$ 26: health insurance
$ 200:gasoline
$1093
But this assumes I would keep my job and that my employer maintains its extremely cheap EPO health plan. Obviously, I would not be in straits that required me to cut routine expenses unless I were unemployed. In that case, my health insurance would rise to about $500 a month, for a truncated monthly outlay of $1,593, almost twice my current routine monthly costs. Or a mere $1,357, without the car’s fuel bill.
Whoa! In other words, unemployment—the only circumstance that would require me to prioritize my expenses with an eye to lopping off the least crucial ones—could force me to cut the most important item on my list. Now there’s a thought!

Why are we paying for this?

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So this morning I call The Hartford to find out whether jacking up the deductible on my homeowner’s insurance will save enough to help keep my in the house after retirement. The punch-a-button maze robot answers the phone with “If you are calling regarding property damage from a hurricane, please press 1…”

Is there any question why our homeowner’s insurance is surpassing unaffordable? If I maxed out the deductible at $4,000, it would save me all of $21.50 a month…not worth the risk of having to cut four grand out of retirement funds in the event of a fire or a falling tree. Raising my deductible from $250 to $2,000, as I decided to do, will save $114 a year: a grand $9.50 a month. Who pays for all the repairs insurance companies shell out to people who stubbornly insist in living in the way of hurricanes, tornadoes, wildfires, landslides, and earthquakes? That’s right: you and me, in the form of ever-soaring insurance premiums.

As we scribble, an army of rescuers is searching for more than 2,000 morons who flat refused to obey mandatory evacuation orders. These clever folks—those who can be found—are being ferried out by boat and helicopter. These are the same hardy denizens who graced Internet news videos as they were sitting around a bar getting drunk a couple of days ago. Now they’re whining because they have no air conditioning, water, or toilets.

“The storm was easy,” the New York Times quotes one Brenda Shinette, who at 51 is old enough to have known better. “I feel like I want to pass out, but I can’t tell if it is from too much heat or too little food.”

Is it possible to pass out from a deficiency of I.Q. points?

“Next time they should warn people about this, not the storm itself,” said another bright soul surprised by such details as floods, power outages, water outages, toilet outages, snakes, mosquitoes,roving packs of dogs,and rotting food.

What is it about get the hell out now get out get out get out you will die if you do not get out that you don’t understand?

“I thought we were going to need Noah’s ark,” said one Elizabeth Madson, who at 45 not only is old enough to know better but who has lived on this hugely at-risk island for seven years. “It was horrific. I would not wish that on anybody. . . . Anymore, if they say a hurricane is on its way, I’m leaving two days before.”

Some mules can learn if you whap them upside the head with a two-by-four.

It’s easy to make fun of individual morons. But then we have the corporate morons. How much do you suppose our insurance premiums will rise to cover the losses to the owners of the now-nonexistent Balinese Room, a nightclub built 600 feet into the gulf, and the Flagship, a hotel on a pier extending 1,000 into the gulf?

And how much will our taxes rise to cover the services of hundreds of search-and-rescue workers, to repair and rebuild utility infrastructures, to clean up the flood-deposited muck, to rebuild levees intended to turn back the sea so these fools can move right back in?

The normal elevation of Galveston Island is8.7 feet above sea level. Much of the developed part has been artificially elevated, andit’s sinking.

Whether or not you believe global warming and its consequent flooding, violent storms, and drought are all a figment of the liberal imagination, you have to agree that we as a people should not have to pay for the folly of individuals and corporations that insist on parking themselves in harm’s way. Living at sea level directly in the historic path of huge, massively violent storms comes under the heading of parking yourself in harm’s way. So does living in a trailer in tornado alley; building your house in the middle of a beetle-infested, drought-stricken forest; living in hills covered with chaparral evolved to actually benefit from wildfires; dwelling atop an earthquake fault; and taking up residence on the side of a dormant volcano. The rest of us should not pay for the predictable results.

It’s past time We the People brought a stop to this nonsense.

The federal government should tell insurers not only that they do not have to insure property in high-risk regions, but that they cannot insure it. It should be against the law to insure homes and businesses in places like Galveston Island—or in any other area at high risk of natural disaster.

Whatever tax incentives exist to encourage building in these areas should be eliminated. In fact, federal, local, and state governments should charge exponentially higher taxes to anyone who insists on living in fire, flood, and earthquake zones. And people who require the need of search-and-rescue teams after ignoring officials’ warnings to evacuate should be made to pay the entire cost of the rescue operation that gets them out of trouble. Let the folks who can’t understand why they need to get out of the way of a hurricane the size of the entire state of Texas pay for the cost of rescuing them!

The increasing cost of insurance and property taxes, when combined with the rising cost of food, utilities, and gasoline, very likely will force me out of my paid-off home when I retire. Who’s going to rescue me? Who’s going to rescue any of us who can no longer afford the cost of underwriting other people’s folly?

Photo: Aftermath of 1900 Galveston hurricane
byKeystone View Company

Seven technological wonders I wish we had

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Why hasn’t anyone invented . . .

  • a vacuum cleaner that doesn’t make your ears ring?
  • clock/timers for microwaves and stoves that run on batteries instead of sucking household electricity?
  • a computer operating system that runs forever and never demands to be updated?
  • a freestanding, energy-efficient room air conditioner (not a swamp cooler) that doesn’t have to be mounted in a window or punched through a wall?
  • good-tasting mass-produced prepared meals with no artificial flavors, preservatives, or other weird ingredients? And that are not oversalted and oversugared.
  • an inexpensive hose timer that works when the water is turned to a slow dribble?
  • computer programs that work without passwords?

What happens when a live Qwest guy shows up

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How many weeks are we into the ongoing Qwest DSL drama? I’ve lost track. Finally, yesterday Qworst sent a living DSL technician. John alarmed at first sight: tall, dark, and dreadlocked. On second glance, it became clear that John actually is tall, dark, and handsome, with a quiet and gentle demeanor that quickly charms the stranger. He is, I recognized, one of those rare men who can be called “sweet” without insult.

He also has an intellect, the first I’ve encountered since the DSL puzzlement began. He, too, was puzzled: why did Qworst Call Center Dude #3, the Josh, send him out with a new $100 modem, which indeed was identical to the modem I had been sent for free by Qworst’s Philippines subcontractors and been told by #3 to return. More puzzling: there was no reason to replace the existing modem, which works just fine.

After some experimentation, John concluded the problem was not in the modem but in the phone line. He set out to discover what was going on. He climbed around the yard for a while, but eventually tracked the matter into the garage. While he was outside, I started to hear an irritating little “beep” repeating about every three seconds—probably, I thought, his equipment at work.

Pretty quick he resurfaced.

“Hear that alarm?” he said.

“Alarm? You mean the beeping?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought that was your gear.”

“No. That’s your burglar alarm. Something’s wrong with it.”

The burglar alarm system has been turned off for a good year. After it became clear that the Perp was not going to commit all the mayhem my lawyers predicted he would, I discontinued the monthly subscription.

When I tried to mess with the control panel to see if I could turn it off, I felt something like an electric shock. He said, “That’s odd.” On further investigation, he announced the sensation wasn’t electricity: it waswater! The burglar alarm is mounted to the wall next to the water heater. Some part of the copper spaghetti above the water heater (lines to the swamp cooler; lines to the refrigerator; lines to parts unknown) had sprung a tiny leak, and it was spraying a fine, invisible mist. Lo! On the concrete floor below the burglar alarm panel, what should we see but a little puddle developing.

Dang. He now climbed up to the main panel and disconnected the burglar alarm system. This did nothing to stop the Chinese-water-torture beeping. We called the burglar alarm company: no answer, midafternoon on a business day. We punched buttons. Nothing. But—no cops; that’s good. Finally, he took out his wire cutters, pulled open the cover, and cut a fine fat white wire.

That stopped the alarm. Amazingly, it did not stop the telephone service, as friends have told me messing with a hardwired burglar alarm will do.

Then he said—get this!—”I don’t understand why they ordered this modem. You don’t need it. You don’t need any of this. I’m canceling this service call.”

So, I got the DSL fixed and the burglar alarm shut off just as it was starting to register its dismay at being sprayed by the defective plumbing: free of charge.

Such are the glories of having a live human being respond to a service call.

Along about 8:00 p.m., another live human being—the Plumber Extraordinaire—showed up to figure out where the water was coming from. Over the phone, he’d already coached me on how to make it stop, a maneuver that entailed shutting off the hot water to the house. In 100 degree heat, you don’t need a whole lotta hot water, anyway.

He replaced the two-year-old flex line, one of the many benefits of globalization we Americans now enjoy. Annoyed, he showed me a brand-new flex line that he had been about to install at another customer’s house: it sported a two-inch-long split. Then he handed me a bill for $75. I was glad to pay it for his long after-hours time.

Customer service personnel outsourced half-a-globe away. Plumbing supplies that break before you can install them. Think of it. Let those who question whether globalization equals the Third-Worldization of America think of it.

Costco scores in customer service

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If I weren’t already sold on Costco, its staff would have won me over yesterday.

Headed home at the end of a workday made interminable by the mind-fuzzing effects of a two-week-long spate of insomnia, I made a run on Costco. I needed several food and household items and, most urgently, gasoline. First I stopped at the Target, where I found some place mats that would do (sort of) as companions for the new dishes. After a nice long stand in line at Target’s check-out, my American Express card wouldn’t work. Swiping it brought up an error message. The cashier tried to swipe it on his machine and then looked stymied. Stunned with exhaustion, I decided I didn’t need those placemats (knew that…why’d I ever think otherwise?) and told the guy to forget it.

Now I stumble into Costco. I’m so tired I literally feel weak in the knees. The prospect of trudging through acres of merchandise to pick out the half-dozen things I need only to arrive at the check-out stand and have them reject my credit card: ugh! It’s more than I can contemplate. So I stop by the customer service desk, where I ask a gentleman named Glenn if it’s possible to tell if the card has a hold on it.

Well, yes, there is. He checks it and discovers no problem. Barely coherent, I explain what happened at Target. He suggests I call the number on the card, printed in submicroscopic characters, and ask. I say I can’t read that number. Now—amazingly!—Glenn directs me to a telephone at the far end of his counter and dials the number for me! After a relatively brief navigation through the robotic punch-a-button maze, I reach a fellow who tells me the is account is in good standing.

So I trudge through the acres, retrieve the goods I need, and show up at the check-out. There, my credit card won’t work. I explain, no doubt altogether incoherently by now, what’s been happening. The cashier calls for a supervisor, and one Ernesto shows up. He punches in the card’s number and some sort of code, and thereby he makes the card work. Hallelujah! He says the magnetic strip has given up the ghost and advises calling AMEX and asking for a replacement.

Imposing some more on Ernesto, I ask if this means I can’t get gas at Costco, adding that I’m almost out and can’t get to work without a refill. He instantly comes up with a solution: pay upfront by purchasing a Costco cash card.

“How much gas do you think you’ll need?” he asks.

“About $50 worth.”

Presto-changeo, he produces a $50 cash card and adds the cost to the food bill.

Wonder of wonders. It worked. Stick the card in the pump and it lets you buy $50 worth of gasoline.

What a relief. I really didn’t want to have to find another gas station on the way home—wasn’t even sure the car had enough gas to get home.

Glenn and Ernesto’s kindness went a long way toward making a trying day tolerable. Not only that, but the discovery about the cash card will make it possible for me to buy Costco’s gas again before the new card gets here. American Express informed me that it will be the 19th before a new card arrives—that’s ten days! If I insist on going to work every day, the tank will need a refill before then. So, another Costco cash card is in my future.

What’s an intellectual worker’s real overhead?

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Over at The Copyeditor’s Desk, TM opines that a freelance editor working from home does business with a very low overhead: a computer, an Internet connection, appropriate software, some inexpensive paper, a few pens or pencils, maybe babysitting or day-care costs.

On a superficial level, I’d agree with that. But I’d like to argue that there’s a lot more cost behind editing, writing, graphic design, programming, and similar pursuits than just hardware, software, and some office supplies. The truth is, none of us can do our jobs without one very expensive piece of overhead: education. By and large, the more education the intellectual worker has, the more his or her skills are worth . . . but the higher the person’s overhead.

Consider what a good education costs. An undergraduate degree at an in-state public school can easily run you $15,000 to $20,000 a year. We paid $40,000 a year for M’hijito’s four-year degree at a private liberal arts college.

Two years of graduate school will take you to the M.A. (assuming you’re trotting right along): add another $30,000 to $80,000. A professional degree will set you back even more: the Great Desert University, which bills its law school as “among the lowest of all American Bar Association accredited law schools,” presents in-state students with a tab of $35,041 and bills out-of-state students $47,606. At GDU, a Ph.D. in a less marketable subject, such as English, runs from $7,052 a year for in-state students to $19,606 a year for out-of-state students (not counting books, housing, food, transportation, and personal costs); attaining a doctorate can take six to eight years.

So… A bright mind, a bachelor’s degree, and a few years of on-the-job experience probably will put you in a position to freelance as an editor, a writer, a graphic artist, or a computer programmer. Let’s figure the start-up costs:

Computer: $1,000
Printer/FAX/Scanner: $300
Internet connection: $360/year
Software:$300 (e.g., indexing program, etc.; assumes MS Office comes with computer)
Student loan: $8,724/year (approx: $60,000 repaid over 10 years at 8% interest)
Office supplies: $200
Desk: $300 (Ikea or other knock-down furniture)
Chair: $100 (Ikea or other cheap furniture)
Total: $11,984

Assuming you could bill 30 hours a week (a generous estimate, indeed!) and you needed a pre-tax income of $40,000 to live on, you would have to gross $51,984 a year to get by. Giving yourself two weeks of vacation time, you would have 1,560 hours in which to earn that amount, meaning you would have to gross $33.32 an hour: consistently and steadily.

This doesn’t count items that would be in your house anyway, such as a telephone connection, air conditioning and heating, water, and access to a bathroom and kitchen. And the biggie: it doesn’t include health insurance!

If you had a low-end master’s degree that you managed to complete in only two years, you’d add $30,000 to the cost of your training (assuming you count books, living expenses, & the like). What the heck: let’s pay that back in 20 years instead of a mere 10; at 8% that would run you $426 a month, or $5,112 a year. This actually brings your annual overhead down to a mere $7,672; to get that 40 grand of pre-tax income, you’d need to earn $47,672, or $30.59 an hour over fifty thirty-hour weeks.

Hm. What if you had a Ph.D.? Let’s say eight years of graduate school at $14,000 a year, since research assistantships and fellowships usually cover most of your living expenses. Again, you pay it back at 8% over 20 years: $936.81 a month, or $11,244 a year! This puts your annual overhead at $13,804. Now you need to pull in $53,804 to end up with a pre-tax, pre-health insurance take of 40 grand: $34.49 an hour.

In any of these scenarios, you’re having to earn $30 to $35 an hour and bill 30 hours a week consistently for 50 weeks a year. That’s to bring in an amount that’s just enough to call a living wage. Sort of.