I'M sitting here looking at my dog Boomer trying to figure out how I'm going to break the news to the little guy that economic times have gotten so bad that I'm going to have to lay him off. Sorry, Boomer, but
it's hard times at homeHe doesn't understand economics. He doesn't understand cutbacks and balance sheets. He only understands licking himself, sneaking into the garbage for goodies, peeing on the floor when I yell at him and loyalty. Not that I yell at him too much. He's got me trained there. In fact, a disagreeable facial expression on my part has been known to turn on the waterworks.
Quit looking at me with those sad, loyal eyes, buddy. This is going to be hard enough as it is.
Laying off your dog isn't an easy thing to do. But the current financial situation at Corporation Memminger is forcing us to make some tough calls.
It's not just us, it's the whole state. All the big companies are laying people off. The city and state, too. Everyone is struggling to get through these hard times. Brother can you spare a manapua?
I looked at our books over and over again. We have cut back to the bone. And then we cut the bone, too.
Boomer didn't even notice. He's a dog with low expectations. You give him an ice cube, he thinks it is Christmas. He'll grab up that ice cube and run to his favorite lying-down spot and just lick and chomp and be in dog heaven. "I got an ice cube! I got an ice cube! I'm a happy dog! I got an ice cube!" Low expectations. That's what makes this whole layoff thing so hard.
But what can I do? The accountant said we have to cut back by at least 15 percent if MemCorp is going to get through the year. I thought about laying off my wife. (Shut up. Not in that way.) I mean, just giving her a furlough.
But there's a problem there. Sort of an internal constitutional problem. Or corporate contract problem. If I try to furlough her, she just might whip around and furlough me. The power distribution paradigm isn't all that clear. Power ebbs and flows. You try to furlough your wife, get ready for some fireworks.
Then I thought maybe I could furlough my daughter. I'm not sure how that would work. But she makes up at least 15 percent of the household, so the idea looked good on paper. But how do you go furloughing a 9-year-old kid? They are so sensitive at that age. Their grasp of economics and mathematics is hardly higher than a dog's. Don't tell her I said that. She's pretty good at math. Better than Boomer. But not better than, say, Lassie.
So I faced facts. I can't lay off my wife or kid. All that left on the payroll is the dog. He's looking at me again. Damn it.
It's not my fault, buddy. I didn't create this economic morass the state is in. Hell, I've suggested ways for the state to not only get out of this mess but thrive. Do they listen to me? Nooooo. Become an off-shore banking center, I said. But no. Legalize gambling on city buses? No. Pay state legislators NOT to meet? No way.
So, here we are. Taxes up, property values down. Cost of groceries up, resale value of Pogs down. Cost of beer, up. Consumption, also up. What's the head of a family corporation to do?
Boomer, here boy. Sit. Good boy. Look, from now on, when I say sit, you don't have to do it. Shaking, too, is voluntary. Barking at strangers? It's up to you. I'll try to keep track if you do and reimburse you when we are back on our financial paws.
Stop looking at me like that. Don't pee. OK. One last ice cube.