For someone who lives in Vegas, I’m abnormally interested in the NYC transit union strike, as it affects me directly. I’m going to NYC for Xmas. I had a lovely vacation planned: staying at the Ritz Carlton, taking cabs to Bergdorfs and Saks on Xmas Eve, shopping among the 5th Avenue masses, grabbing a glass of Cabernet somewhere nice for lunch, bitching about how cold NYC is and how could anyone live in this kind of weather. It can’t be good for your skin.
I’m the type of person who believes mass transit happens to other people, bad people. Not me. Yes, I’m a limousine democrat, unfortunately, I don’t have the limousine paycheck of Hollywood’s A-List to really qualify as one, but in spirit, I’m there. Just yesterday at work, I tried to get 90% of the office fired because I don’t like the way they dress. If I have to look at them, they could at least try to make an effort.
But I digress. Roger Toussaint, the Union President, who by the way is in serious need of some Queer Eye for the Straight Guy TLC, said that a “chief sticking point for the union has been the pension proposal to raise contributions to the pension plan for new workers from 2 percent to 6 percent.” The union contends it is woefully inadequate and would be impossible to accept.
Listen up, union guys, six percent is more than this limo-loving democrat gets, and oh, by the way, that’s just my 401 K, my company doesn’t offer a real pension plan. Why? Because they did their research and found that most companies don’t offer a pension plan anymore (it’s less than a 20% of all companies nationwide that do).
So is 2% low? Yes, it is, but get over it. So what if you have to get up at 3:00 am to haul trains into NYC. I’m up at 3:00 am fuming over the fact that my boss once again took credit for my work, left at 2:00 pm to go home because he was exhausted from cruising the Internet most of the work day, and then had the nerve to leave me with a parting shot of “try not to be so blonde.” We all have our cross to bear, except for the very rich, of which you aren’t among, so get off your high horse, suck it up and get those trains running.
When it comes to feeling under-appreciated and a sucky retirement plan, most of America is in your shoes. I’m in your shoes. Actually, I’m in my Ferragamo boots, which I’ve weatherproofed seeing as I’m going to have to haul my ass up and down NYC as there are no taxis to be found because everyone else is taking them. Thanks Union guys. I hope Santa leaves crappy gifts from Walmart under your tree.
