Part 4
For some strange reason, I ended up knowing quite a few people in the construction/house renovation business. So, without further ado, here is a charming little story straight from one of my acquaintances.
This past Sunday morning, he was on his way to check on one of the job sites. All of a sudden, one of his workers calls him in a panic: "Inspector is here, and he told us to shut down!" So, the poor guy floors it, arrives at the site in record time, and finds the esteemed employee of the great city of New York issuing the following royal proclamation. Since there is no permit for working on Sunday, he is going to give tickets for every single building (that would have translated into a considerable hunk of lettuce), plus issue a stop order for two weeks (that would have basically left the owner of the project without his next to last under wears).
My acquaintance, being of the somewhat diplomatic bend, at first tried to explain that is was not his project, and he was only a subcontractor - the officer could not care less. Next, the sum of, if I am not mistaken, three hundred dollars was offered, which was met with open incredulity and comparisons to the sum total of tickets. The somewhat lively telephone exchange followed between the contractor and the subcontractor, during which the polite city inspector was making his own phone calls and yelling at his opponent about the "f-king Chinese" (I guess they were his previous or next stop). Finally, the following resolution was reached: the subcontractor paid the fully tax-subsidized city employee fifteen hundred dollars in cash, after which he (the subcontractor) was warned that if somebody else from the city comes and issues more tickets, it was not his (inspector's) problem. On that amiable note he departed.
Gee, I really wish I was able to work like this! Salary and gorgeous benefits for the whole family (willingly or unwillingly provided by the taxpayers); and then you would be able to put in a little overtime and earn some cash for vacation that you would need after such hard labors! I further wish somebody would offer me fifteen hundred dollars in cash and tax free; just imagine: my insurance company would save on my B12 shots, because I would just go to a spa, rest, and "pay up" some of my sleep debt. Everybody would win: my employers would gain better productivity, my insurance would save on payments, and the spa and spa employees would get extra revenue. I guess esteemed half-Kenyan; half-Muslim that managed to slither into the White House has it right, after all: government employees are the best people to stimulate the sluggish economy!
Showing posts with label tax dollar at work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tax dollar at work. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
YOUR TAX DOLLAR AT WORK
Part 3
Every time I go on vacation, I usually send a whole bunch of post cards to all the friends and relatives (preferably on the first day of my trip). Official disclaimer: if you are reading this, and you did not receive a post card from my last trip, all that means is that I know where your house is, but do not have an exact address, and you were not listed at the time of my packing and departure.
Anyway, my Aruba trip was no different, and on the second night there I was enjoying the balmy weather and the badly received American TV while addressing the post cards. My sister's house was supposed to receive three: one for Mini Me, one for Mini Not Me, and one for my sister and brother-in-law (they are not that enjoyable). Upon my return home I enquired as to whenever my correspondence arrived before us or not. My sibling told me that both cards for the gnomes arrived, albeit separately, but she and spouse did not receive anything. We put it down to the probable efficiency of the tropical laborers, and left it at that.
Then, few days after that, my sister informed me that I have to see something hilarious. Lo and behold, my post card addressed to her and spouse came to them in one of those half-clear postal envelopes with standard caveat that they tried their best, but the correspondence got damaged, and they apologize, blah, blah. They delivered precisely a third of the original post card, with top and bottom torn off, and only a part with the address preserved.
As of today, that fragment of the picture of a tropical paradise is proudly displayed on my sister's fridge.
Every time I go on vacation, I usually send a whole bunch of post cards to all the friends and relatives (preferably on the first day of my trip). Official disclaimer: if you are reading this, and you did not receive a post card from my last trip, all that means is that I know where your house is, but do not have an exact address, and you were not listed at the time of my packing and departure.
Anyway, my Aruba trip was no different, and on the second night there I was enjoying the balmy weather and the badly received American TV while addressing the post cards. My sister's house was supposed to receive three: one for Mini Me, one for Mini Not Me, and one for my sister and brother-in-law (they are not that enjoyable). Upon my return home I enquired as to whenever my correspondence arrived before us or not. My sibling told me that both cards for the gnomes arrived, albeit separately, but she and spouse did not receive anything. We put it down to the probable efficiency of the tropical laborers, and left it at that.
Then, few days after that, my sister informed me that I have to see something hilarious. Lo and behold, my post card addressed to her and spouse came to them in one of those half-clear postal envelopes with standard caveat that they tried their best, but the correspondence got damaged, and they apologize, blah, blah. They delivered precisely a third of the original post card, with top and bottom torn off, and only a part with the address preserved.
As of today, that fragment of the picture of a tropical paradise is proudly displayed on my sister's fridge.
Monday, July 14, 2008
YOUR TAX DOLLAR AT WORK
Part 2
As previously mentioned, I work for a company that has a fair number of contracts with New York City. Most of my acquaintances labor under the misapprehension that that state of affairs usually means easy money for not much work. Wrong, my friends! Once you work for NYC, that state of affairs is definitely true. But if you work with NYC, it usually means tremendous amount of bureaucracy, wasted efforts, idiotic forms in quadruplicate, and, last but not least, a lot of wasted time and great efforts applied to the process of actually being paid for your services.
According to my boss, who has been in this racket for a good twenty years, no agency in New York City is equal in the amount of sheer stupidity to the Department of Homeless Services; it did not take long for me to begin to see the wisdom of his words. Here is just one charming example.
A subcontractor was hired by both us and DHS to perform a certain task; the task itself took less than one day. The subcontractor submitted a standard invoice to us, including all the forms that the City would require, and even couple that they usually do not. We, in turn, have submitted our invoice to the DHS; and the fun begun!
First, DHS just decided not to pay our invoices (that one including). Their funds were frozen; their director retired; the acting director did not know what the heck was flying; the new director had to be brought up to speed. Blah, blah, blah, ad infinitum. Meanwhile, we would get constant requests for minor corrections: the amount of cents is wrong; this letter is small instead of capital; this is on the left when it should be on the right; this title is wrong, etc, etc, etc. After every minute correction would be performed, our company would get a reassurance that "the check is in the mail"; then, next week another correction on another invoice is requested. Basically, a barrel of laughs.
And then, one fine day, another call came from DHS for my boss. After two minutes into the conversation, he interrupted and asked for a whole file on above mentioned subcontractor. After about half an hour of conversing with an esteemed public official, he returned to my desk. Something in his face gave me the idea that he just about reached the end of his rope, so to speak. "Barbara", he finally produced with a hysterical half-laugh, "would you mind calling this subcontractor and telling him that DHS requires time cards to be submitted according to the original Hebrew Bible, with week's beginning on Sunday, not on Monday? Apparently, they missed the last two thousand years and have not gotten on with the program yet."
My poor boss! At least he could still joke about it. Mind you, as mentioned before, that task took less than a day, plus, it was performed in Wednesday! After a few more involved conversations, the benevolent public official consented to accept that non-uniform time card, and promised the immediate payment. Yea, right. The check is still in the mail.
As previously mentioned, I work for a company that has a fair number of contracts with New York City. Most of my acquaintances labor under the misapprehension that that state of affairs usually means easy money for not much work. Wrong, my friends! Once you work for NYC, that state of affairs is definitely true. But if you work with NYC, it usually means tremendous amount of bureaucracy, wasted efforts, idiotic forms in quadruplicate, and, last but not least, a lot of wasted time and great efforts applied to the process of actually being paid for your services.
According to my boss, who has been in this racket for a good twenty years, no agency in New York City is equal in the amount of sheer stupidity to the Department of Homeless Services; it did not take long for me to begin to see the wisdom of his words. Here is just one charming example.
A subcontractor was hired by both us and DHS to perform a certain task; the task itself took less than one day. The subcontractor submitted a standard invoice to us, including all the forms that the City would require, and even couple that they usually do not. We, in turn, have submitted our invoice to the DHS; and the fun begun!
First, DHS just decided not to pay our invoices (that one including). Their funds were frozen; their director retired; the acting director did not know what the heck was flying; the new director had to be brought up to speed. Blah, blah, blah, ad infinitum. Meanwhile, we would get constant requests for minor corrections: the amount of cents is wrong; this letter is small instead of capital; this is on the left when it should be on the right; this title is wrong, etc, etc, etc. After every minute correction would be performed, our company would get a reassurance that "the check is in the mail"; then, next week another correction on another invoice is requested. Basically, a barrel of laughs.
And then, one fine day, another call came from DHS for my boss. After two minutes into the conversation, he interrupted and asked for a whole file on above mentioned subcontractor. After about half an hour of conversing with an esteemed public official, he returned to my desk. Something in his face gave me the idea that he just about reached the end of his rope, so to speak. "Barbara", he finally produced with a hysterical half-laugh, "would you mind calling this subcontractor and telling him that DHS requires time cards to be submitted according to the original Hebrew Bible, with week's beginning on Sunday, not on Monday? Apparently, they missed the last two thousand years and have not gotten on with the program yet."
My poor boss! At least he could still joke about it. Mind you, as mentioned before, that task took less than a day, plus, it was performed in Wednesday! After a few more involved conversations, the benevolent public official consented to accept that non-uniform time card, and promised the immediate payment. Yea, right. The check is still in the mail.
Monday, March 24, 2008
YOUR TAX DOLLAR AT WORK
Part 1
The firm at which I hold my current employment has a decent amount of contracts with various government controlled agencies, which, in turn, allows me a brief glimpse into the inner workings of these wonderful bastions of mockery on Constitution. So, I decided to start a new line of installments titled "Your Tax Dollar at Work". Here is part one.
I had to get one of our architects a Connecticut registration, and for that you have to contact the Connecticut Department of Consumer Protection (lofty name, ain't it) located in a fair city of Hartford. Now, I am not going to bore you with the details of the entire process: that would take at least a pamphlet. The most noteworthy from that entire process was the following little vignette.
Yours truly and a worthy individual back in Hartford who was charged with an important role of protecting Connecticut consumers exchanged a whole bunch of e-mails and lively phone conversations. The last exchange went as follows: Could you please apprise me as to the status of her application? I still did not receive her___ file (some stuff that was supposed to have been send to him from Washington, DC). Well, I have an e-mail confirmation from FedEx that this file was delivered to your office last Thursday (mind you, this conversation is taking place on Tuesday). Well, it takes time for packages to get to our offices from our mail room.
Now, I have never visited the fair city of Hartford, so, I can not vouch for the exact measurements, but how big is the building housing the Department of Consumer Protection if it takes more than three business days for the package that is marked "urgent" to travel from the mail room of that building to the actual destination?
The firm at which I hold my current employment has a decent amount of contracts with various government controlled agencies, which, in turn, allows me a brief glimpse into the inner workings of these wonderful bastions of mockery on Constitution. So, I decided to start a new line of installments titled "Your Tax Dollar at Work". Here is part one.
I had to get one of our architects a Connecticut registration, and for that you have to contact the Connecticut Department of Consumer Protection (lofty name, ain't it) located in a fair city of Hartford. Now, I am not going to bore you with the details of the entire process: that would take at least a pamphlet. The most noteworthy from that entire process was the following little vignette.
Yours truly and a worthy individual back in Hartford who was charged with an important role of protecting Connecticut consumers exchanged a whole bunch of e-mails and lively phone conversations. The last exchange went as follows: Could you please apprise me as to the status of her application? I still did not receive her___ file (some stuff that was supposed to have been send to him from Washington, DC). Well, I have an e-mail confirmation from FedEx that this file was delivered to your office last Thursday (mind you, this conversation is taking place on Tuesday). Well, it takes time for packages to get to our offices from our mail room.
Now, I have never visited the fair city of Hartford, so, I can not vouch for the exact measurements, but how big is the building housing the Department of Consumer Protection if it takes more than three business days for the package that is marked "urgent" to travel from the mail room of that building to the actual destination?
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