My Corona Diary (Take XXVII): What's Behind The Stimulus Cutoff Smokescreen?

<"Musical Chairs (Employer Stylee)":

The Reckoner>

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How do you best pit people against each other? Roll out a policy change that signals, "Some animals are more equal than others," Then watch the fun, and don't forget to bring the popcorn. This story happened long ago, but still rings true for me, as we'll see. 

I'd just landed my first newspaper job, which I've chronicled here already, in "Jobs To Nowhere (Take I) The Post-College Comedown." Like many small papers, you got a piddling wage for many more hours than a minimum wage retail or office job of the time required. There was no overtime clause, and no add-ons, unless you counted the mileage reimbursement.

This being the mid-1990s, our reimbursement amounted to 18 cents per mile, for any event that required driving to and from our poky little office (mostly, local government meetings, and the odd special event). In contrast, the IRS allowed 28 cents per mile, so we were at a disadvantage, to put it mildly.

I traveled a lot, mostly for county commission meetings. That group met at the county seat, some 30 miles away. My beats also included city councils and townships that were somewhat closer, usually 10 to 20 miles, but often burned up plenty of time, whether you were driving, or not.

As the new boy, though, I didn't have a choice. My bosses, who worked even more hours, typically grabbed the in-town, in-office beats -- like City Council -- for themselves, a move that allowed them to preserve some semblance of a family or personal life. I got that part, even as my spirit started sagging under the weight of an ever-expanding schedule.

There matters stood, until a couple years into my tenure, when  management -- pleading poverty, of course -- suddenly announced plans to cut mileage, as in, right now. That left a lot of long faces around our office, until management reversed itself, just as abruptly. 

Their new proposal called for one mileage check, at a $75 flat fee, tops. We'd no longer get them every other week, along with our regular paychecks. We'd still fill out mileage sheets, of course, based on round trip figures set by management. I don't know if they suspected people padding mileage, or fretted that two or three mileage checks per month was way too much. I had no idea, and knew better than to ask.

At any rate, management wanted a yes or a no from us. The loudest screams came from our sports stringers, who drove farther, and traveled longer, than I did. For these people, who got paid per mile, and per story, the changes amounted to a royal screwing.

The three full-timers, myself included, also made our displeasure clear, because it meant that we'd take a hit, though a smaller one, as we'd all started various side hustles, In my case, since I'd started freelance writing, it might mean doing an extra story or review or two. It'll suck, I told myself, but I can make this up. It's manageable.

The discussions heated up, as people chose sides, depending on their status. One of our sports stringers wound up quitting, loudly and angrily, over the issue. Being a single, middle-aged woman probably had something to do with it. 

I could feel her resentment during this time, whenever she got back from a game. It wasn't fun to see someone who'd laugh and joke around now sitting there tight-lipped, and staring straight ahead, as she banged out her story, and scuttled off, without even a goodnight.

Eventually, the majority opted for the 75 bucks. Like most of these feudal situations, you end up choosing  something moderately awful or totally awful, because that's all the menu allows. We let our overlords know, and that was the end of it. But needless to say, nobody felt good about the situation. Morale already stood at 69 feet below sea level, and we'd now dipped a foot or two deeper, still.

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Needless to say, the recent debate over stimulus checks -- who should get them, or shouldn't -- left me with an uncomfortable feeling of "deja vu all over again," to coin Yogi Berra's celebrated phrase. Bernie Sanders's celebrated Tweet (above) summarizes the case pretty well. How can a Democrati administration that floated $2,000 stimulus checks, even discuss these kinds of income cutoffs, that so-called centrists like Joe Manchin (D-WV) are peddling? 

It's bad policy, and bad politics, too, as many commentators have already pointed out. The good news is that for now, at least, the same basic thresholds from the last round ($75,000 per individual, $100,000 per couple) will remain intact, at least for now. They shrink by $56 per $1,000 over those amounts. Cut and dried, case closed, right?

Well, yes, except to the likes of Manchin (Mansion?), who loves to affect an "aw, shucks, I'm just one of you folks" image, which serves as a useful distraction from his net worth, variously estimated at $6 to $8 million, depending on the source. To put it another way, I don't know where he's buying those finely-pressed clothes, but I doubt they're coming from the same places where his constituents shop.

The disconnect becomes even more glaring, when you realize that Manchin has voiced support for phasing out relief after the $50,00 and $100,000 thresholds for single people and couples, respectively. Manchin justifies this stance by saying that he favors "targeted relief," going to those "truly in need," phrases that invoke images of spoiled, upper-class brats laughing as they lounge on their yachts, celebrating their third round of stimulus money.

Here's the rub, though. There's different levels of need, depending on your personal situation, as Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez pointedly stated, in a Tweet of her own: "We cannot cut off relief at $50K. It is shockingly out of touch to assert that $50K is 'too wealthy' to receive relief. Millions are on the brink of eviction. Give too little and they're devastated. Give 'too much' and a single mom might save for a rainy day. This isn't hard."

Indeed, it isn't, and it shouldn't be, except President Biden left the door open a crack, by suggesting a willingness to negotiate the overall amounts. That's also bad politics, because if you really buy into those rhetorical flourishes, you're allowing yourself to be deceived.

Phrases like "truly in need" are downright ugly, because they make no allowances. Even if you haven't taken a hit during this COVID-racked economy, it's fair to suggest that a $50,000 annual income goes a hell of a lot farther in, say, rural Michigan or Ohio, but probably won't even get you off the starting blocks in a big city like Chicago, for instance. 

Even $100,000 doesn't get you in the door anymore at our nation's capital, which now requires an annual estimated income of $122,900 or $143,000, if you're renting or paying a mortgage, respectively, according to gobankingrates.com: "That's an increase of 50.8% and 30.4%, respectively, since 2016." 

GO Banking Rates's story blames lack of affordable housing, rising property values and healthcare costs, and -- most ironically of all -- an influx of wealthy residents, which tends to aggravate whatever inequality already exists. If you don't see that different levels of need exist out there, you probably won't appreciate why a proposal to cut off checks after the $50,000 or $100,000 mark might earn some pushback.

And that's before we get to the other obvious point. The same Republicans, and their so-called Democratic "centrist' counterparts, who clutch pearls and fret about spending a few dimes too many on the great unwashed, will be the first to roll out attack ads when it's time to con votes, complete with the appropriate fake Churchillian voiceover: "President Biden could have helped you, But he left you in the dust. He didn't come through, and neither did my opponent."

Hopefully, when it's time for a do-or-die vote on Biden's $1.9 trillion stimulus proposal, we won't see a repeat of the sorry experience of 2009, when the Democrats allowed themselves to get buffaloed into accepting a $787 million stimulus -- instead of a trillion, as Obama proposed -- that proved too weak to jump-start an economy reeling from a widespread meltdown.

Even without that history, though, I'd be happy to remind them of what happens when you decide, effectively, that "some animals are equal than others." If you want to see how it makes people feel, take a moment to watch Ritchie Ramone outline why he quit the Ramones in the End Of The Century documentary.

As the drummer explains, the tipping point  came over T-shirt sales, where he wasn't a Ramone -- and watched those cash-filled envelopes passed to the remaining three founders, Johnny, Joey and Dee Dee, after shows. 

For a young guy trying to make it in New York City on a basic weekly salary, the disconnect got too hard to swallow anymore, and so, exit Ritchie Ramone, after four years (1983-87), and some 300- to 400-odd shows. "I just wanted some of that T-shirt money," Ritchie sputters, repeating each word, for emphasis. "What...was...the...big...deal?"

I'm sure our sports stringer asked herself the same question, once she realized what accepting that $75 flat mileage check actually meant. If nothing else, it gave her a not so eloquent summary of how she really stood with the people in charge.

Now that the Democrats are finally back in charge of the government again, I hope they don't fall into the same trap, and leave folks asking the same burning question: "What...was...the...big...deal?" 

You know the old saying, right? Those who don't learn from history are condemned to repeat it. The only problem is, if they screw up...so are we. -- The Reckoner 

Links To Go (Hurry, Hurry,
Before They Cap Your Check...)

Fatherly: Here's Who Will Get

The $1,400 Stimulus Checks:

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/heres-1-400-stimulus-checks-193304359.html

GO Banking Rates:
The Salary You Need 
To Live Well In Washington, DC Skyrockets:
https://www.gobankingrates.com/money/economy/rising-cost-live-comfortably-washington-dc/