Ever since the historic collapse of Bear Stearns, we have been peeling back the layers of an industry which, until a year ago, had eluded most of us, and have discovered that the age old saying is indeed true: there really is no such thing as a free lunch. Years of bad management and suboptimal decisions has led us into one of the worst economic crises anyone could have imagined. And just when we think things are maybe beginning to turn around, something else crops up. Its like the ultimate death spiral.
Our latest failed attempt at resuscitation: The AIG bonus scandal. After accepting $170 billion in government funds, AIG has turned around and paid $300 million in bonuses to their employees. What do I think the government should do?
Umm... Let them keep their money!!
Here's how I looked at this whole situation. Let's say you give a child money. He or she comes back with a big bag of candy. Do you get mad at the kid for not buying fruit and confiscate their bag of candy? No. Doesn't work that way. There were no stipulations on the bailout money and so AIG reserves the right to allocate those funds as they see fit. Sure it isn't fair that hard earned tax money is being given to people so they can keep their charter jets and second homes in the Hampton's, but who's fault is that?
Last March Toto pulled back the curtain to reveal a frail old deceitful man. "PAY NO ATTENTION TO THAT MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!" He says into his microphone.
Okay, the government said, we won't pay attention to the man behind the curtain. Instead, we will give him $170 billion to continue doing "business as usual". And surprise surprise, that's just what he did. As far as I can tell the AIGs and Bear Stearns of the world have done absolutely nothing to elicit the public's trust, so why should anyone have expected a bailout to change their behavior? Allowing a person to fail changes his or her behavior. Bailing them out doesn't. Isn't that a concept straight out of Life Lessons 101?
So, as much as I don't approve of execs getting millions in bonuses during a time when the unemployment rate is over 8%, the highest its been in over a quarter of a century, AIG has an obligation to their employees to honor their contracts. It would be ethically wrong not to. It would also be wrong to impose a 90% tax on those bonuses.
The government was captivated by the smoke and mirrors. Their need to believe in the great wizard of Wall Street blinded them from the harsh reality of it all. I for one have had enough. I think its about time we took that old man out of the control booth and started taking care of business.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Losers Walk Home!!
Picture this.
Its 1993. A warm Saturday afternoon in Southern California. I'm clad in a high sheen polyester green jersey and black drawstring shorts, all the rage that season. My team name, "The Green Machine". I know, very original. As it turns out, soccer moms, while skilled at cutting oranges into perfect little wedges, left much to be desired when it came to choosing creative team names. But we were 13 and given the choice between a witty team name and good half-time/post game snacks, we definitely preferred the latter.
I can't remember the team we played that day. I don't know what the exact score was. Maybe we were down. Maybe we were tied. Alls I know is, we weren't winning. My mother was sitting in the bleachers, screaming directions, and since she wasn't too familiar with the soccer terminology she just yelled what she saw. I'm on the field running my little heart out. And then, out of the blue, with ten some-odd minutes left in the game, she suddenly yells out,
"Kara, don't forget, Losers walk home!!!"
Nevermind that we were quite a ways from home, and I was without a change of shoes. This was an AYSO soccer game. A-Y-S-O! A league who's motto is "Everyone Plays". I turn to look at my mom in the stands. She's laughing at her own joke, her audience of parents laughing alongside her. My mom, the only one I knew who could scream out something that ridiculous during a soccer game for middle schoolers, and convince everyone that it was just playful teasing.
Everyone, of course, except for me. There is much truth in jest. In this case, it was all truth. Now, just to be clear, my mother would never had made me walk home if we'd lost, nor would she have made me feel bad about losing. But she loved when I won. At anything! Soccer games, track meets, writing contests, spelling bees, bingo... You never saw a woman so proud. To this day, she's the first person I call after my intramural soccer games.
Losing was never an option for me, not out of fear that she would see me as a failure, but because I wouldn't get to see her see me as a winner.
This past week, during my trip to Tahoe, I was glad Mrs. F wasn't in the stands watching the atrocity which was my snowboarding. Out of the 60+ who were on the trip, I was probably in the lower 10%. Talk about a humbling experience. Actually it was more so humiliating than humbling. I spent most of my time on the mountain immersed in powder snow, watching in bitter envy as seven year olds cruised effortlessly past me. It was a disgrace.
At the end of one of my disastrous days of "snowboarding", I ended up on a hilly run. To get to the bottom I needed to hit it fast from the beginning and let the momentum take me all the way down. There was only one problem. I was afraid of going fast. I had to though. So, I mustered up the courage I needed, kicked off and went shooting down the mountain...
For about 5 seconds. AHHHHH TOO FAST!! I carved into the snow to slow down, then straightened up again. But it was too late. I kept slowing down. Then I slowed down some more. Then I completely stopped.
*Insert expletive here*
Immobile, I watched as skier after skier, snowboarder after snowboarder coasted past me. There was only one thing to do. I reached down and unhooked my boots from my bindings. Then I picked up my board and started down the mountain, all the while cursing myself for showing such cowardice.
After about twenty minutes of walking in the snow, fingertips frozen solid and nose running from being in the cold, I had to smile at the irony. Guess my mom was right afterall. Losers really do walk home.
****************************
Its 1993. A warm Saturday afternoon in Southern California. I'm clad in a high sheen polyester green jersey and black drawstring shorts, all the rage that season. My team name, "The Green Machine". I know, very original. As it turns out, soccer moms, while skilled at cutting oranges into perfect little wedges, left much to be desired when it came to choosing creative team names. But we were 13 and given the choice between a witty team name and good half-time/post game snacks, we definitely preferred the latter.
I can't remember the team we played that day. I don't know what the exact score was. Maybe we were down. Maybe we were tied. Alls I know is, we weren't winning. My mother was sitting in the bleachers, screaming directions, and since she wasn't too familiar with the soccer terminology she just yelled what she saw. I'm on the field running my little heart out. And then, out of the blue, with ten some-odd minutes left in the game, she suddenly yells out,
"Kara, don't forget, Losers walk home!!!"
Nevermind that we were quite a ways from home, and I was without a change of shoes. This was an AYSO soccer game. A-Y-S-O! A league who's motto is "Everyone Plays". I turn to look at my mom in the stands. She's laughing at her own joke, her audience of parents laughing alongside her. My mom, the only one I knew who could scream out something that ridiculous during a soccer game for middle schoolers, and convince everyone that it was just playful teasing.
Everyone, of course, except for me. There is much truth in jest. In this case, it was all truth. Now, just to be clear, my mother would never had made me walk home if we'd lost, nor would she have made me feel bad about losing. But she loved when I won. At anything! Soccer games, track meets, writing contests, spelling bees, bingo... You never saw a woman so proud. To this day, she's the first person I call after my intramural soccer games.
Losing was never an option for me, not out of fear that she would see me as a failure, but because I wouldn't get to see her see me as a winner.
This past week, during my trip to Tahoe, I was glad Mrs. F wasn't in the stands watching the atrocity which was my snowboarding. Out of the 60+ who were on the trip, I was probably in the lower 10%. Talk about a humbling experience. Actually it was more so humiliating than humbling. I spent most of my time on the mountain immersed in powder snow, watching in bitter envy as seven year olds cruised effortlessly past me. It was a disgrace.
At the end of one of my disastrous days of "snowboarding", I ended up on a hilly run. To get to the bottom I needed to hit it fast from the beginning and let the momentum take me all the way down. There was only one problem. I was afraid of going fast. I had to though. So, I mustered up the courage I needed, kicked off and went shooting down the mountain...
For about 5 seconds. AHHHHH TOO FAST!! I carved into the snow to slow down, then straightened up again. But it was too late. I kept slowing down. Then I slowed down some more. Then I completely stopped.
*Insert expletive here*
Immobile, I watched as skier after skier, snowboarder after snowboarder coasted past me. There was only one thing to do. I reached down and unhooked my boots from my bindings. Then I picked up my board and started down the mountain, all the while cursing myself for showing such cowardice.
After about twenty minutes of walking in the snow, fingertips frozen solid and nose running from being in the cold, I had to smile at the irony. Guess my mom was right afterall. Losers really do walk home.
****************************
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