You say it’s your blirthday*

I can’t believe it, but this blog is one year old today! It seems a lot of us in this little corner of the blog world started around this time last year, partly because of the community that formed in Dooce’s comments section. I never really considered myself part of that community—I was just a lurker who laughed at the conversations of those who had much more time (and wit) than I did.

She may be surprised to read this, but I probably wouldn’t still be blogging today if it weren’t for Mrtl. You see, even after I started my own blog, I was still mostly a lurker of other people’s. One day I worked my way through most of Mrtl’s archives, and when I got back to the current day there was a new post. It freaked me out a little bit, but I finally de-lurked. And it felt good!

Soon I was leaving comments on others’ blogs, and eventually some of them found their way here. You see, if I hadn’t started commenting and you hadn’t found me, the blogging thing wouldn’t be any fun at all. So thanks, Mrtl, for ‘forcing’ that first comment out of me. And thanks to all of you for coming here regularly, for being so kind, and for sharing a little bit of yourselves with me.

Now . . . I would like to help others overcome their lurker status. I didn’t participate in de-lurking week earlier this month, so I’m calling a de-lurking day today. If you stop by Sharkey Malarkey—regularly or only once in a while—leave a comment to say hello!
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*Since this post is a veritable Mrtl blovefest, it’s only fitting that I pay homage to her by using the term she coined on her own first blirthday last week. (Yes, I’m totally stealing it. But it’s not really stealing if you give credit, right? Right?!?)

Take this job – Part 3

Click the links to read Part 1 and Part 2.

If you made it all the way through part 2, you know how my first job sucked the life out of me. This, the third and final part of the series, explains how the company affected other people.

You know all that money that gets withheld from your check every payday? Well, your employer is required to send that money to the federal and state government on a very strict schedule. So let’s say you get paid on Friday. By Tuesday or Wednesday of the following week, all of the employees’ tax withholding has to be deposited (don’t quote me on these timeframes—it’s been 15 years, and I’m not as up-to-date on the laws as I used to be) with the government.

As my employer’s business expanded, it offered a tax filing service for the payroll clients. When clients purchased the tax filing service, the company would debit their bank accounts on the check date for the total tax amount. Then my employers got the “float” (interest) on that money between the check date and the date it had to be deposited. Great arrangement, right?

Well, in reality there were a couple of problems with it. One was that the owners didn’t set up a separate bank account for the tax monies–they just deposited them into the operating account. And the other problem was that small start-up companies often have trouble keeping up with expenses. There were legitimate business expenses of course, but there were also things like the Chevy Blazer that their teenagers drove, the owners’ trip to New York so the husband could run in the marathon, and their vacation on a Windjammer Barefoot Cruise (meanwhile, we employees were paid dirt).

Often, they would debit Company B’s account on a Friday and use the funds to pay Company A’s taxes on Wednesday. Then on Thursday they’d debit Company C’s account and use that money to pay Company B’s taxes. And so on and so on. This tactic worked pretty well at first. But then they started to land bigger and bigger clients, with bigger and bigger tax liabilities. Pretty soon, Company C’s debit amount didn’t cover all of Company B’s payroll taxes, and the snowball began rolling down the hill. I’m not sure how long it went on, but I believe it started before I left the company in March of 1994.

As a result of this “business practice,” there were some companies whose taxes were being paid late (tack on some interest and penalties), and later, some companies whose taxes didn’t get paid at all. As you can imagine, the clients weren’t too happy when they started getting notices from the IRS. It took a while, but eventually the IRS began to piece the puzzle together–about 100 companies with tax deposit problems, and the common denominator was the payroll company that they used.

Everything came crashing down in the fall of 1995. The company was looking for investors and trying to avoid bankruptcy when they were raided by the federal government. The whole thing was captured by the local TV news crews. As my roommate (who had also worked there) and I watched the 10:00 news, we saw images of men removing file boxes that bore our handwriting. Our stunned former co-workers appeared in the background. It was surreal.

In all, approximately 100 clients were affected to the tune of $5.7 million, and they were still on the hook to pay the IRS. So in effect, they paid double their taxes (once to my former employer and again to the IRS), plus many of them ended up paying penalties and interest.

The owners were tried, but not for embezzlement or theft. Apparently there were no laws that directly applied to the situation. They were charged with defrauding clients, mail fraud (because the tax forms they filed indicated that the taxes had been paid), conspiracy to interfere with the IRS’s collection of taxes, and filing false tax returns. Some of my friends were called to testify, but fortunately I never was. The husband was sentenced to approximately five years in jail and the wife received a four year sentence, plus they were ordered to pay $5.7 million in restitution.

I wonder if any of the clients has seen a penny of that money.

Take this job (from hell) – Part 2

Click the link to read Part 1 of the series.

In 1991, I graduated college with majors in business and music, and I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life (still don’t, come to think of it). So I started temping while I looked for that first “real” job.

After about a month, I landed a position with a small company in Minneapolis. This company consisted of three people—the owner, a sales guy, and me. It wasn’t an accounting firm, but we did bookkeeping services and payroll for other companies using a DOS-based (remember those days?) computer program.

::mrtl-style tangent::
On the very first day at this job, I had one of my most embarrassing moments ever. I was wearing the navy blue double-breasted coat dress I had worn at my college graduation because it was the most business-y thing I owned at the time. At one point in the morning, I smoothed the back of my dress before sitting down and noticed an odd sensation as my fingers brushed over my left butt cheek. I craned my neck around to find a gaping hole in the seam. And there was no pinning it because both pieces of fabric had frayed at the edges.

What to do? Naturally, I went to the mall at lunch and bought a new dress. Of course, because my shoes were navy, my selection was somewhat limited. I ended up with a navy blue flower print dress that didn’t look anything like the ripped one. But I worked with two men. They wouldn’t notice, right? Wrong. When I returned to the office my boss said, “Is that the dress you were wearing this morning?” I admitted it wasn’t and told him the story. Ya gotta be able to laugh at yourself.
::end mrtl-style tangent::

Because it was a small company and because I was new to the corporate world and eager to prove my value, I didn’t mind spending a few extra hours here and there to finish up an assignment even though I was salaried and didn’t earn any overtime pay. And besides, I was new in town and didn’t have much of a life anyway. It was something to do!

Before long the owner’s wife, D., quit her other job and became the office manager. I can’t say there are many people that I “click” with right off the bat. But she felt like an old friend right away. Even though she was nearly 20 years older, we got along great. The business expanded, and we began hiring additional employees. Most of them were young women like me, and in fact, three of them had been my college roommates at one time or another.

Of course, having my friends work there was a lot of fun. And the fact that we young and still single made it that much more fun. We often did things together after work or on the weekends. A few of us—including D.—worked out together one summer and I ran my first (and only!) 5K race.

The workload increased, and more than once I (and others) pulled an all-nighter during our busy year-end crunch of producing W2’s and filing payroll tax forms on top of the regular work. But it wasn’t a frequent occurrence, and we were basically just doing what had to be done.

Then I moved into the newly-established pension department. With very little training I began administering 401(k) plans—basically calculating contributions, distributing market gains and losses to the employees, and printing quarterly statements. The business expanded some more, and pretty soon three people were working under me.

My work schedule went from the occasional 50-hour week to a fairly regular 80-hour week. Of course, I was still salaried, so didn’t receive any overtime. I started to keep track of my hours, and there were several weeks where I clocked nearly 100 hours, and even one where I put in 105.

Now, let’s pause for a moment and look at the facts, shall we? Here I was, 23-24 years old, doing a job I didn’t know very well, and trying to supervise three others doing the same job. I didn’t have any background in management, except for the course that was required for my major. Translation: I really sucked at this job. But I was in so far over my head that it took me a long time to realize it. For example:

• At one point during all the crazy hours, D. was very pleased to give me a bonus for the hard work I’d been doing. I eagerly ripped open the envelope to find . . . a check for $100. A measly hundred bucks! I couldn’t believe it—I was PISSED. But I didn’t say anything because a.) I knew the business was struggling to stay in the black, b.) D. was a friend as well as my manager and I knew she was trying to be nice, and c.) I was stupid and naive.
• I wasn’t the only one working long hours—the rest of the pension department was too. One Monday, D. demanded to know why one of our team members hadn’t shown up for work on Saturday (this was a regular Monday-Friday office job). As if he needed an excuse!
• I often left the office after 9:00 PM. And I was SO tired all the time. But I stayed up late every night because I knew if I went to bed before I was ready to absolutely collapse, my mind would race and I’d never be able to sleep.
• More than once, I was brought to tears by something that happened on the job. In fact, it started to become a regular weekly occurrence. I was so tired, angry, and overwhelmed that it didn’t take much to start the waterworks.

Why did I stay? I think there are a lot of reasons.

1. I wanted to do a good job, and I guess I was attempting to compensate for my lack of experience by putting in extra time (even though much of that time was spent spinning my wheels).
2. I’d never had another “real” job to use as a comparison. I thought everyone who wanted to get ahead worked crazy hours. And because many of my college friends were “on the inside” with me, I didn’t have a reality check from people who had different experiences. All of my friends’ experiences were the same as mine!
3. The job was my life, and not just because I didn’t have time for anything else. I had good friends there, and I don’t think I realized that those friendships could continue post-employment. (As it turns out, last month in Minneapolis I had dinner with three of my former co-workers, nearly 11 years after leaving the company.)
4. Despite everything, I really did like it there. It’s difficult to explain how that could be the case, but I guess it felt like a little (dysfunctional) family.

The light bulb came on for me when P., the manager of the payroll department, quit. I had been there for nearly three years, and she had been there almost that long. We’d sort of “grown up” together at that company. It was almost like her leaving gave me permission to get out too. And it’s funny—she started a mass exodus. Within just a few months, I think 10-12 people left.

As bad as it was, I’ll always be grateful for the friends I made there and for the experience I gained. Of course I learned the payroll business from the ground up, and that definitely helped me to get the next few jobs after that. But the experience also taught me a very important phrase: “It’s just work.” Work will be there tomorrow and the company will be there tomorrow, even if I’m not. And you know what? That phrase applies to every job I’ve had since then too.

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Did you make it this far? Would you believe I still have more to say about this job? Stay tuned for part 3 . . .

Potty mouth

Yes, I realize you’re still waiting for the continuation of my job post. I AM working on it, but it’s overwhelming me a little bit. So (in true Sharkey form), I’m procrastinating. I offer you this little story as a substitute. Warning: Do not read this post while eating!

Maggie joined us today as we traveled to northern New Jersey for J.P.’s nephew’s birthday party. She and Poppy, the birthday boy’s dog, met at Christmas and had a great time together. So we knew she’d have fun today. If we only knew how much fun . . . .

My BIL and SIL have four kids under the age of 9, and they love Maggie almost as much as they love their own dog. Which means they run up to her, grab her and give her hugs (a.k.a. headlocks). They reach for her tail and try to get the ball away from her so they can throw it for her. Their love is somewhat unrequited, however, because mostly Maggie just tolerates them.

But she’s no dummy. She knows that these rambunctious short people a) tend to drop a lot of food, and b) stand with their hand-held food at her mouth level. So one way or another, she ends up with lots of extra treats when they’re around.

As we were finishing dinner tonight, J.P. noticed Maggie chewing something as she stood in the hallway. I didn’t think much of it—she was finding crumbs everywhere. But he got up to check it out. He wandered back into the bathroom (where she had been), and he noticed a certain “aroma” getting stronger and stronger.

Then he noticed it. The potty chair stood at the far end of the room, and as he approached it the smell became stronger. He hoped against hope that it still contained the source of the odor. But alas! It was empty. It seems Maggie found herself more treats than we bargained for.

While you’re waiting . . .

I know, I know. You just keep clicking back here in the hopes that I’ve posted part two of my job story. I’m working on it, but here’s something in the meantime.

If you’ve been over to Crayonz’s place lately, you know about the wildfires they’ve been having in Oklahoma. And if you’ve been around here for long, you know what a soft spot I have in my heart for dogs and dog rescue organizations.

Well, put the fires and the dog rescue together, and you have a woman in Oklahoma whose home, barn, feed, and rescue supplies were destroyed by a recent fire. She also lost one of the dogs when he ran into the barn for protection. She’s working hard to help the remaining animals while she attempts to get her own life back together, and she could really use your help.

Go check out OK Save a Dog, and if you’re so inclined use the Donate button on this site to send a few dollars Kim’s way. Thanks.