Sufficient Funds

My God! Has it really been ten months since my last post? Wow!

There's been a lot going on and rather than write about it, I've been doing it. If you know me, by now you know what I've been up to and I don't really need a blog to tell you what I've been doing. There's a strange new twist, though, lately. I actually feel pretty good about things.

I've always been a pretty optimistic person. I always try to find the upside of things. Even still, I often felt like I was just slogging around in the mire, trying to make things happen.

Last week, I tried to take $20 out of my bank account so I could take the train home from work. To my surprise, a message flashed on the ATM screen that there were insufficient funds in my account. In fact, I had nothing left. I was aware that my cashflow was running low, but I had no idea I was completely out of cash. I went to the bank, foolishly thinking that something could be done. Maybe I could sign up for some account or credit card and get, oh, $25 in my account. Nope.

That's where things took their radical turn. Normally, I would wallow around in fear and self-pity. And with payday over a week away, that would be a lot of wallowing. Not this time. I borrowed a dollar from a co-worker to get home and then another 8 from my roommate to get to work for the next three workdays, and haven't spent a cent since.

I rationed what food I had in my refrigerator. I took full advantage of my four days off in a row and haven't left the house. I've even taken the initiative to call my collectors and tell them I couldn't send payment until Friday. (This is a departure from the usual practice of ignoring them until the last possible day.) Most importantly, I never got down about things.

It wasn't like I made some effort not to feel down. I didn't have to constantly remind myself that things would get better. I just knew, and know, things will get better. Maybe it's because this is my first overdraft since having direct deposit. Maybe it's because Spring is on its way. Maybe it's because I've finally realized that money does not have to be linked to happiness. I've often hear such rumors, anyway.

Whatever the cause, I wish it upon all of you.

God bless!

$7.25

Well, it's done. The U.S. House of Representatives has passed a bill that increases the federal minimum wage from $5.15 to $7.25 an hour. Now it's off to the Senate, and so on, and so on...but it's on its way.

Since the creation of the federal minimum wage in 1938, there have been arguments for and against it. Of course, people should be paid something for the work that they do. But how can we put a number on the minimum?

I've spoken out against the minimum wage over and over again. I believe employers should be allowed to offer whatever they want. If they only want to pay $2.00 an hour, and no one wants to work for $2.00 an hour, they'll either raise their pay or go out of business. Simple.

Arguments in support of raising the mandatory minimum usually include "helping people" who are supporting their families. But if you are supporting your family, shouldn't you strive to make more than the minimum. In reality, most minimum wage jobs are held by those who are supplementing a larger income. High schooll kids still living at home, a spouse earning a secondary income, that sort of thing.

I don't want to get into all the arguments I've made in the past. I want only to bring one new argument to the table: the negative effect on illegal immigrants and U.S. citizens that raising the minimum will have.

By virtue of being in this country illegally, alien workers are unable to effectively negotiate a higher rate of pay. Who will they take their arguments to? Will they threaten to expose their employer's illegal hiring practices at their own expense? Doubtful. It's like that episode of "Cops" where the drug user flags down the police to report that the drugs she bought weren't real. Uh, duh!

We can assume the employer who knowingly hires illegals is gambling that he'll save some money and not get caught. If he's not saving money, he'd eliminate the risk and hire U.S. citizens. So if U.S. citizens are required by law to make $5.15 an hour, and he can get an illegal worker to do the same job for $2.00 an hour (as an example), he's saving $3.15 per hour, per worker! If the minimum is raised by $2.10 for legal workers, well guess what? He won't be raising his illegal immigrants' pay by that much. They'll still make $2 an hour, and the employer will now save $5.15 per hour, per worker! $5.15! The exact amount of the current minimum wage!!

"Compassionate" people will argue that the illegal immigrants are doing the jobs that Americans won't do. That's bull! Americans CAN'T do the jobs at $2.00 an hour, thanks to our wonderful government. It's not allowed, lawfully! So, when an employer has the option of paying $2 illegally to someone who will work their butt off for any amount or $2 illegally to someone who can get a job legally somewhere else for almost 4x as much, who do you think he's going to choose?

We can see now that an increase in minimum wage will not help those who are working illegally (except that more of them will be able to find low paying jobs). We see that American citizens who are working minimum wage jobs are only partly helped, because fewer of them will be hired. That leaves two more groups: Those working for between $5.15 and $7.25 now, and those working above $7.25.

Starting with the "Middlers" (not Bette...that's with one "d"), let's say one is working for $6.50 an hour now. Upon the increase of the minimum, that employee will get a mandatory raise of 75 cents. Good for them, right? Wrong. Because whatever distinction that gave them a rate of pay of $1.35 higher than the minimum, a special skill, years of service, whatever..., is now lost. They are now at the same rate of pay as an entry level, unskilled worker.

And what if you're making $8 an hour now. You are earning nearly $3 above the minimum wage, a certain level of distinction. You've got some special skills, maybe some experience, maybe it's your first job out of college. Eight dollars an hour maybe isn't great, but it was at least a level above a minimum wage job. After the increase, you're only making 75 cents more than anyone else could make. Someone who dropped out of 6th grade is breathing down your neck, financially. Maybe you're unhappy and you quit your job, figuring the worst you can do is $.75 less. Or maybe you take your case to your boss and demand a raise, get it, and happily settle into the same job for just a little more money. (That higher pay will rear its ugly head on the market place, and the raise you've just made will have to be spent on higher prices of food, clothes, gas, and whatever else.) And you say to yourself, "Well, I guess I can stay here a little longer, since they did just give me a raise" and you forget that this is not what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

Minimum wage, maximum headache. My advice, abolish the minimum wage and let employees make what their job is really worth. Sure, there'll be a rough transition as the employers think they can get better for less, but the free market is a mysterious thing and in the end, great businesses prosper more than good businesses and bad businesses cannot stay afloat. That's the way it should be.

My Mom

What can I tell you about my mom?

She frequently forwards emails to me that say things like "If I don't get this back, I'll take the hint", yet, I never send them back and she still hasn't gotten the hint!

When you go with her to a live show (say, "Le Reve" for instance), she's constantly leaning over and saying things like, "I think that was a mistake" or "I don't think that was supposed to happen". Apparently, these professionals are a bunch of amateurs.

Through the first 18 years of my life (at least as long as I lived at home), she couldn't remember that my name wasn't my brother's. She constantly called me "Staniel".

On my twenty-first birthday, her main concern was that my brothers and father didn't hire any hookers for me.

At the end of every phone conversation, she says "Bye. I love you. Bye." It's almost like saying "P.S." after the first goodbye.

She conveniently forgets one crucial rule in any board game, and then blames everyone else for not reminding her when she starts to lose. (Hence, she never loses, because all strategy is lost when you constantly have to remind your opponent all the ways she's supposed to beat you.)

When on my first day alone at college I called to tell her I burned my wet socks in the microwave, she didn't tell me "Don't put your socks in the microwave, idiot." Instead, she gave me helpful hints on how to better dry my socks in the microwave.

She thinks if she yells into the phone she'll be able to magically hear me better.

And while we're on the topic of phones, she doesn't ever check her voice mail. So when I've finished leaving my detailed message, she calls back almost immediately and I have to tell it all to her again.

Each year we have contests to see who can pick the winner of the Kentucky Derby and the Indy 500. Despite being given 3 picks for the Derby and 5 for the 500, she always wants one more for a "long shot".

I'm a collector of junk, and you can guess who I get it from. She'll even save me those little fake credit cards you get in the mail...whatever it is, she tells me "you can use it in one of your plays".


Only my mom could drag me to see a Neil Diamond impersonator twice in one week.


Whenever I come to visit, she wants me to make my special omelets or my Irish stew or some other dish...then she takes me out to eat instead.

She is getting shorter. In another 20 years, we'll lose her in behind an end table.

When I was little, she used to buy me Smurfs. One day she brought home a rare, collectible one and I tore it apart, so she bought another one and still has it wrapped up in her dresser drawer, somewhere.

She lived in Indiana and she wanted to live in Florida, so she moved to Florida. Then she wanted to live in Indiana, so she moved to Indiana. Then she wanted to live in Florida, so she moved to Florida. Now she's in Florida and she wants to move to Indiana.

A few years back, I got this stupid little singing, rubber birthday cake. Now I get phone calls from my mom on everyone else's birthday to call them and "play the cake".

She called me when I was at a Purdue football game to give me the score of the game I was at...and she was wrong!

Ah, my mom. She's not all there...but I love her just the same. Whether it's Mother's Day or any of the other 364 days of the year, I hope she knows I wouldn't have her any other way.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day!

I'd better have a damn good excuse...

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where have I been? I can't just be off galavanting and come back without an explanation. Let me wipe the mud off my boots and clue you in.

It's about 2:30 AM as I write this; the witching hour for blog entries. And there has been a substantial "dead air" quality to my blog since congratulating the Colts on their victory over 3 months ago. I can explain. See:

Sanjaya. Don Imus. Crazy astronaut. A-Rod. Anna Nicole. Walter Reed. Rosie. Donald. Virginia Tech. Antonella Barba.

See, what I've just done is given you, with one or two words, entire stories that I've missed blogging about that you are so entirely done with that you know what I mean with just those one or two words. You've made up your mind about them and I'm glad I was of no help.(Incidentally, I just added my self to search results for any one ofthose topics. Woo-hoo!)

So let me tell you a little something you probably don't know about:ME!! No, not Maine...but yours truly. Myself. Dan Marrero.

Today, May 5th, Cinco de Mayo if you will, marks my 22 month anniversary as a singing cupcake decorator at the Hershey Store. When I accepted the position as "Hersheyizer" almost two years ago, it was not with any intention to make a career out of it. I still held fast to these dreams of being an actor and I knew (I was assured!) that when I did get my big break I would be given enough leniency to pursue it.

After the first year of expert Hersheyizing, the acting career seemed to be stalled. I took matters into my own hands and started my own website: www.pennyslug.com. On that site I could post original movies, songs, games, and other things that I'd created--that I thought were funny--with the express purpose of gaining at least some exposure. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find people who can help you do these things AND who are willing to do it for no money whatsoever? Of course you don't. You're not crazy enough to ask anyone to do it! It's un-American!! I'll tell you, it's harder than a pervert in a candy shop. (Just to clarify...that pervert ISN'T me.)

With the website stalled and the acting offers flowing like water through the Sahara, it occurred to me that it was just about time to move on from this Hersheyizing gig. I've only had one job that's lasted more than two years in my life, and that was an "acting" job. For every other commitment, two years has been my limit. Think about it: Two years in college before transferring. Two more years before graduating. Not quite two years bouncing from place to place in Florida. Two years at my previous at my office job (which was a couple of years ago). Are you following along? Two years, maximum! (And you wonder why I'm not married.)

Well, it crossed my mind that perhaps this whole two year thing is perpetuating itself. How can I earn a decent income when it's clear I will be leaving a position in two years? Right about the time I should be moving up, I'm moving on! This must be why I look like a flight risk; like a man still attaching himself to the "actor" lifestyle.

I decided to change course. I was going to do something radical. A few weeks ago, I sat down with my boss and we discussed a new position that I could step into. The proposed position, the Bake Shoppe Operations Coordinator, would be saddled with all the responsibilities that I am currently, unofficially, saddled with myself. The difference was the title and, more importantly, the compensation.

My boss loved the idea. He thought the timing of it was perfect and that there was no one among his history of employees more capable and deserving of such a promotion. All he had to do was run it by his bosses first. So I waited. And waited. And about two weeks later I got an email regarding a theatre I had auditioned for at the beginning of April.

Here I was about to move up in the world and I was being offered toplay some really great roles. Five really great roles, actually. Three leads, a villain, and a supporting role. It looked like ajackpot to me! Triple flaming sevens! But, there was a catch:

The theatre would require a ten week, out of town commitment and it would pay next to dirt. In fact, it would pay about a third of what I could expect to make each week as a Hersheyizer over the summer. And if I got this BSOC position (I realize I could have somehow changed it so it actually became BMOC, but I was in serious business mode when I thought of it), the money from that would be far too much to give up. I would actually reject an acting job to work in a hot bakery for thesummer!

I asked my boss where things stood with my impending promotion. See, the director wanted to mail out contracts in about ten days and now I had a deadline. Of course, if I accepted the roles, I could probably take the full 10 days. If I didn't, however, I should let him know as early as possible so he could replace me. Well, my boss hadn't yet spoken with his bosses. In fact, my future hinged on the background check of a new hire. It was explained to me how, but I'm still not sure I understand. Anyway, the long and short of it is, he needed the weekend.

The weekend came and went and on Monday I found out the background check of this other guy had cleared and my boss could now finally talk to his bosses, and he would have an answer for me on Tuesday (that's May 1st, if you're following along at home).

On May 1, I called in to work from home and spoke with my boss. It was about 2:30 in the afternoon. Late enough to allow him to put outany first-thing-in-the-morning fires and early enough to avoid the the-office-is-closed-for-the-day excuse. And do you know what? He hadn't talked to them. He didn't think he could until at least a couple ofdays later. Suddenly I saw the next two years of my life--a nice, one bedroom apartment in the city, a couple of nice vacations, a newcomputer and an iPod, some financial stability--vaporize!

"That's not good enough," I said. And at once I knew what I had to do. With one more phone call I would end days of agony (and it was AGONIZING) and finally make a decision. I called the theatre's director and I accepted his offer. I tried to finagle a couple of days off for a wedding (sorry Adam) and a concert (sorry John Mayer and Ben Folds together for perhaps the only tour ever...damn it!) but no dice. I'm in this thing and I'm in it for the long haul...ten weeks (not two years).

I urge you to come to Michigan City, Indiana this summer and see me playing prominent roles in "Almost, Maine", (okay, so maybe I was talking about Maine at the top of this blog...), "Oklahoma", "The Secret Garden", "HMS Pinafore", and "Crazy for You" at Canterbury Summer Theatre. See http://www.festivalplayersguild.org/canterbury/index.html for more information.

And if you're wondering why I can't go out to eat, to see a movie, or throw a penny in the wishing well...please understand, it's not you...it's theatre.

As for the next two years of my life? I've been offered the option to come back to the Hershey Store, so at least I have a job. But a lot can happen over the summer. I'll try not to be such a stranger to my blog, and I'll let you know. Until next time...

Go Colts!!!!!!

Colts win! Colts win! Colts win!
It was an ugly game, but a win is a win. Now I can walk through the Windy City with my head held high...I'm a champion! I worked very hard for this. I deserve it!
In all seriousness, remember: It doesn't matter if you wore your lucky shirt or prayed for the victory. It doesn't matter if you videotaped the game or trash talked too much. It doesn't matter if you accidently wore orange or ate a Chicago style hotdog this week. Winning and losing is decided when the two teams play the game. It's not fate, and it has nothing to do with you (you self centered bastard!) The Colts won because they outplayed the Bears today (and outplayed their opponents in 15 other games this season).
Regardless of your behavior, the Colts have won the Super Bowl (and the Bears have lost). GO COLTS!!!!

A message from Santa Claus

I'm not sure I've mentioned this to you kiddies out there, but Santa Claus and I are pretty good friends. I was speaking with him just the other day and he passed on a lot of information. Tips and suggestions, really. As it is Christmas Eve, I felt it appropriate to share some of this with you. From Santa Claus:

You can tell a lot about a child by the presents they ask for. Some examples:

• A child who sits on my lap and asks for more than 5 presents really isn't picky at all and will be just as happy with a pair of roller skates as with a Nintendo Wii.
• A child who wants one really expensive gift, like a PlayStation 3 or a pony is either a spoiled, only child, or should be prepared for disappointment.
• Any child who asks for a pair of shoes so that her mother can dance one more time is clearly contrived of fiction and should probably take tea with the Easter bunny.
• If the child asks for a pair of hop-along boots, he is probably named "Barney" (if not that, "Ben".)
• If the child asks for a hula hoop, he may not be a child at all. Rather, he is probably a chipmunk named "Alvin".
• When a child begins to ask for things like "World peace" or "an end to hunger", that child no longer believes in me and should stop being sent to sit on my lap. I deliver toys, blast it! Toys!!

On that note, here's some advice to the parents. Please stop writing out little "From Santa" tags for things like thermal underwear and socks. My elves and I work very hard all year long to make the finest toys and games...please don't damage my reputation with a 6 pack of mid-calf athletic socks sewn by a family in Honduras. Kids don't want socks, and we don't make 'em. If they need them, fine! Buy them and tell them they're from you!

What else? What else? Ah, yes. The whole chimney thing. I magically appear in your house via the chimney, or, in lieu of that, the air ducts. Do not leave your doors unlocked unless you'd like to wake up with your presents stolen.

Please leave me cookies. I enjoy snickerdoodles, Oreos, Nilla wafers, ladyfingers, butter cookies, sugar cookies, Christmas cookies, and chocolate chip, to name a few. I do NOT like ruggeleh, Ritz crackers, tuna sandwiches, knockwurst, or anything with anise in it. And stop leaving carrots and celery for my reindeer...unless you want reindeer poop on your roof.

Some people call me Santa Claus, some call me Kris Kringle. Some say I'm Saint Nicholas and others say I'm Father Christmas. I am not worthy of sainthood, ho ho ho!, I'll tell you that. And I am nobody's father, either. And you can call me whatever you like, as long as you remember the whole reason for Christmas isn't about me and it's not about toys. It's about the birth of Christ, the savior. All the commercials for all the merchandise in the world can't change that!

And don't be alarmed by imposter Santas. There are many, and none are sanctioned by me, but most of the time, they're harmless. In fact, I'm glad they're around. I've got a lot of preparations to do and I can't make it to every mall, drugstore, and parade there is. I do make some appearances on my own, however...but I'll never announce which ones are actually me. Oh, and sometimes you'll see people shoddily dressed like me with a fake beard and shabby suit. While I appreciate the homage, I will never ask for money or petition you for favors. Don't be swindled.

One last thing, the reindeer wanted me to point out...Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder (yes, DonDer), and Blitzen have long ago retired. They were great reindeer, well worth their fame. But each year I pick my eight best reindeer to pull the sleigh with a full turnover about every five years or so. This year, I'll be lead by Garland, Truman, Fiddledash, Hansel, Pickles, Parsnips, Fritzen, and Pretzel. Rudolph won't be joining us, but after that foggy night when he lead the team, I made sure to equip the sleigh with a foglight. We colored it red and named it the Rudolph II. Original, I know, but we had to pay tribute!

There were other things that the Jolly Old Elf and I discussed, but those affairs are private. I do need to pass along one final note, from Santa Claus. And this is a direct quote:

"I have never slashed anyone's bed, Victoria. Not now, not ever. I'm into sleighs, not slaying!"

Merry Christmas!!!