PAIN AND SUFFERING DIVISION

(Wage & Hour Division, Associated Press, Center for Economic and Policy Institute)

(Frazer Chronicle)

 

A kind of whimsical review of the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938, or as I like to call any of these feel-good governmental acts-- butt covers. They’re the kind of initiatives presented by politicians that let people know that there working, but their ideas have little or no chance of passage.

 

However that does not seem the case with regards to the Fair Labor Standards Act, which was passed into law in 1938. The early history of the FLSA or the Wages and Hours Bill had an early rocky road. The act was originally drafted in 1932 by Senator Hugo L. Black, a Democrat from Alabama.

 

As one might think, Black’s act met with fierce opposition as originally presented, Black’s first attempt had a really unique idea, a 30 hour work week. It would take close to 7 years before the FLSA act was finally ratified into law.

 

The act addressed child labor, overtime, a maximum 44 hour-- 7 day work week, established a national minimum wage, and applied to employees engaged in interstate commerce or employed by an enterprise engaged or in the production of goods for commerce, unless the employer can claim an exemption from coverage.

 

For the time it was a sweeping change to how employer/employee relations had been carried on for a hundred years and more. On October 24, 1938 the minimum wage across America became 25 cents an hour, and would stay under a buck an hour until March 1, 1956. Simple math tells us that for a period of almost 18 years, a minimum wage worker got raises totally 75 cents.

 

WHY A PAIN AND SUFFERING DIVISION

The Fair Labor Standards Act really addresses a class of people that is mired in under-education, low self esteem, poor achievers, poor I.Q. and family background, ethnic groups, racial profiling and some plain lazy people.

 

Mixed in with the above is the worker who simply isn’t intelligent enough to pull himself up by his boot straps and seek a better life for himself. And the very worst part of this equation is the fact that as a race of people, we need this sect of people to do the unskilled menial jobs and duties that society requires.

 

The PSD, (Pain and Suffering Division) doesn’t even cover teens, and several other categories including that friendly waitress with the great legs that brings you your cup of coffee every morning at your favorite café.

 

Teens can be worked so many hours a day in a week for as little as $4.25 an hour…..and that great legged waitress, if you choose not to leave a tip, her hourly wage is a staggering $2.13. So the next time you stop for a cup of Joe and the newspaper remember, $2.13 an hour.

 

I used to think that the vast majority favored a higher minimum wage, but I’m beginning to wonder, as our society continues to become more haves and have-nots, is there room for a husband and wife each making minimum wage and raising two or three kids?

 

All I can say is that I’m glad I’m retired, older and anticipating an early death, I mean, how much higher is gasoline and food going to go before I’m maxed out, and will need to seriously consider which pills are really necessary for my survival…..let alone my sex life.

 

AT the very best we come from a checkered background with regards to how employers treat their employees. Still calling employees liabilities as opposed to assets on their spread sheets seems a bit disingenuous…..at least to me. When I was growing up, working for my Dad, he always refereed to those people that were working for him, (he was a carpenter), as anchors around his neck. It took me years to figure that one out, but when I did, I felt a great remorse for my Dad because he never really understood the people directly around him.

 

THEN THERE WAS ME

I worked a whole bunch of different jobs during my working life, and by the way, I never saw a job that I couldn’t lay down beside and take a quick nap. I had professional jobs, grunt, craftsmen’s, semi-craft, athletic supervisor jobs, and street sweeper jobs. Like the man said, “He’s done it all,” and its tttrrruuueee, I have.

 

My first job was for my father, the carpenter; he’d throw me a few bucks at the end of the week, (really only a few bucks) for anywhere from 5 to 30 hours a week, I never kept track because I knew it wouldn’t do any good. He used to tell me that my food and a bed were payment enough, a statement that I took to heart because I wasn’t sure whether he’d actually throw me out.

 

At this juncture I’d better say that I loved my Dad, he taught me a lot of stuff that I have used throughout my life, that said, he was one of the toughest men that I ever knew…..not fearless, but tough. His idea of a good day on the job was to outwork everybody in his crew, and then walk around like a little peacock; he was only 5’5”.

 

But we can’t all be blessed with a Ralph J. Frazer for a father figure; in fact some don’t even have a father figure to emulate. Tackling life is a really tough job for men, (I know girls, I’m a pig,) but check out the life expectancy of men, the last time I looked women outlived men by several years.

 

There is so much that goes into being a success in life…..if you’re a man, it really isn’t fair, we collectively deserve a break, at least one do-over. Speaking for myself, I had several do-over’s, thanks in large part to my wonderful wife.

 

My last job was driving one of those giants of the highway, an 18 wheeler, a semi truck…..and again I lucked out, I loved my job…..in fact it probably was my favorite job. I drove off and on more or less my entire adult life. During all of that time, nearly 2,000,000 as close as I can figure, I only had one accident, and only got one speeding ticket.

 

My last working years were spent traveling from the east coast to the west, and I was getting paid to do it, sweet. However getting paid .32 to .40 cents a mile, the almost constant pressure to get from point A to point Z began to take its toll, and when my wife developed a health problem, I decided to bag being over the road.

 

There wasn’t any overtime, seldom were there bonuses and driving because a thankless job, my effort went largely unappreciated. So when I went into my supervisors office to let him know about my decision there wasn’t any celebration, no gold watch, or certificate of outstanding service, he only want to know why I hadn’t given him a two week notice.

 

Boy was I ready with a response, “screw you, I’m done.” That, my friends, lifted a 1000 pound gorilla off my back, I finally realized that I was now my own man, free to do what I wanted, when money is available, and I haven’t looked back since that day.

 

Be ready for that day because it’s the only time when a working stiff can actually voice his opinion about who he is working for. For you young people, get an education…..and watch your back.