JOE Wollaceski's worst nightmare finally came true . . .

By l.t. Dravis

SMALL TOWN OHIO, Monday, September 24, 2008 – When 44 year old Doug Jones (not his real name) got his check last Friday, it was three times the normal amount.

You know how it is when you get your paycheck; even though you know it’ll be the same old amount, you kind of hope there’ll be more there just this once . . . and if there was more, you’d be happy . . . real happy!

But not Doug.

Not at all.

His check included two weeks’ severance pay.

After nineteen years as an equipment operator for Wollaceski Underground Contractors, Inc. (not the real company name), Doug ran a Wollaceski CAT 375 track-type excavator for the last time Friday morning, backfilling a repaired water line for the county.

Joe Wollaceski, founder of the company that bears his name, is a bear of a man. Six feet four, two hundred and fifty pounds, he resembles former Vice-President Al Gore. He’s a 57 year old who succeeded where so many fail by out-working and out-smarting his competition in the rough and tumble construction business. “I don’t see how we get out of this mess,” Joe says with a shake of his head. “Nobody has cash, nobody can borrow, and nobody knows what to do about it. We give Bush and Paulson $700 billion, they give half of it away, yet banks are still failing and nobody’s lending. So, where did all that money go? My guy who sweeps the shop coulda handled it better than those boneheads!”

Wollaceski knows exactly where he is and why. “We’re shutting down after 32 years mainly because of the car business,” he says. “GM, Ford, and Chrysler lay off workers, those folks stop spending, and we lose sales tax revenues, plus income tax. And then, the businesses that rely on car worker wages have to lay off and those folks stop spending and we lose more sales tax revenues and income tax and, pretty soon, the city, county, and state cut back on construction projects. Since banks aren’t lending, there are no more commercial and residential developments to bid on, so guys like me get forced out of business.

“It’s going to be tough for my people to find good jobs. They’re used to making fifteen-twenty bucks an hour and more and they been getting good benefits; there aren’t many businesses left in Ohio that can afford to pay a living wage and give good benefits.”

The Wollaceski Underground Contractors shutdown kills 34 jobs, takes a $1,700,000.00 annual payroll out of the local economy, cancels the lease on a ten thousand square foot building on a half acre, and dooms the CAT 375 and 11 other backhoes, tractors, and compactors, plus 4 Kenworth T810 dump trucks, 6 Ford F250 jobsite pick-ups, batches of tools, barricades, safety equipment, a complete lubrication system, several compressors, storage racks, office furniture, computers, monitors, and a GMC tractor/low boy trailer to be liquidated at auction.

Doug and his wife, Elizabeth (not her real name), have three children under the age of 17, and are worried about when, if ever, he’ll find another job that pays as well and provides the benefits they got from WUC. “There’s nothing here in Ohio,” Doug says with a defeated tone. “Me and Liz talked about moving to California or Texas where I might find work, but we’re upside down on our house and we can’t sell right now. So, we’re stuck. Can’t live on unemployment so if I don’t find work soon, we’ll have to rent out the house and move in with Liz’s folks up in Cleveland.”

The manager of ‘Sandi’s’, a popular family restaurant a block from Wollaceski’s yard, says, “We’re not seeing regulars like we used to. Friday and Saturday nights are about half of what they were even six months ago. I know Doug and Elizabeth Jones and their three kids. Used to see them here probably three Friday nights and maybe two Saturday nights a month and we’d see them just about every Sunday after church . . . but not now. Not since we heard Joe Wollaceski was shutting down.”

“What kills me,” Wollaceski says, “is that, after all the money and power we gave Bush and Cheney over eight years, they’re leaving us with the largest deficit ever, the biggest national debt in history, a failed banking system, an economy in the worst shape since the depression, and two wars that are bleeding us dry.

“Those two geniuses screwed up the economy so bad that millions of skilled workers who’ve been making forty, fifty thousand a year will be forced to take minimum wage jobs at fast-food joints and places like Wal-Mart and give up their homes, cars, and their futures.

“So, besides making my worst nightmare come true, what have Dick Cheney and George W. Bush ever done for me or my people?

“Nothing,” he says, answering his own question with a sardonic smile, “absolutely nothing.”

Copyright © 2008 by LTD Associates West, Ltd. All rights reserved.

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PAUL's Gotta close his business . . . so what?

By l.t. Dravis

SMALL TOWN, OHIO – Sunday, November 23, 2008 – Even a casual encounter with any of the 27 men and women who work for Moreau’s Machine Works (not the company’s actual name) in Ohio today would tell you that something is seriously wrong. These are good, hardworking Americans, salt of the earth folks who love their country, who love their husbands and wives, who love their children, and who take pride in the quality of the products they produce.

But they don’t smile much these days; that Midwest heart-of-the-country sparkle is gone from their eyes; they don’t stand quite as tall as they used to; and they walk and move not with the innate confidence of people born and raised in America’s heartland, but with the uncertainty of people who are lost.

One month from today, two days before Christmas, Paul Moreau (not his real name) will close the business founded by his father in 1948, a business that in better times not only supported the lives and families of 202 machinists, tool makers, estimators, quality control inspectors, warehousemen, secretaries, and managers but also supported the stores, gas stations, real estate agents, professionals, and the tax base in and around the little Ohio town they call home.

Moreau Machine Works will close its doors forever after it ships the last batch of parts due on the last purchase order from the last of the Big Three suppliers on the third Tuesday in December.

And 27 families will celebrate Christmas this year against the backdrop of economic uncertainty that promises not only to dampen their holiday spirit but will also dampen their hopes and plans for a happy, prosperous New Year.

Paul has run Moreau Machine Works since his father’s death in the early seventies and, like his father, he’s made it a point to work harder and longer than anyone else, creating a sense of family that contributed to pride of workmanship, maximum productivity, and a ‘never-say-die’ attitude on the part of everyone in the Moreau Machine Works family.

But as the car business goes, so goes Moreau Machine Works and things are not going well.

“At 67, I’m already past retirement age, but I’ve put everything back into the business, so me and my wife, only got Social Security to live on,” says Paul Moreau, Jr., a big man who resembles Harrison Ford, the actor. “We also got a ton of debt to pay and how we’re gonna make it, I don’t know.

“I mean, I never thought American car companies would ever be almost bankrupt. I can’t believe that here, in the greatest country in the world, good people who want to work can’t find good jobs. I mean, who’d have thought this would happen?

“But I’m more worried about the rest of the folks working here because most of ‘em are younger. They’ve got houses to pay for; they got car payments, and kids to raise. They’ve got college tuition to worry about . . . “ Standing in the small parking lot in front of the well maintained, immaculate, twelve thousand square foot single story brick building his family has owned since 1959, Paul sighed, blinked several times, held back an emotional moment, and then continued with, “. . . I, I worry about how they’re gonna make it. There aren’t any other jobs for them to get . . . not here, not in Ohio. They’re gonna have to go on unemployment and they won’t be able to afford the COBRA health deal. I don’t know what they’re gonna do.”

Paul is in personal and corporate debt up to his ears. In the years leading up to the current crash, when SUVs and pickup trucks were selling like hotcakes, when Ford could generate an $18,000.00 profit on a single Excursion, the Big Three and their top tier suppliers pressed Paul to upgrade his equipment to improve quality, to reduce lead times, and to reduce costs. In fact, his contracts to supply machined parts called for price reductions of as much as ten percent a year, every year, for at least three years.

It wasn’t like he had a choice . . . purchasing agents were quite clear about it: Either agree to drop your price by ten percent a year or we’ll deduct the difference from outstanding invoices and cancel our purchase orders . . . in other words, do it our way or go away.

So, Paul did what he had to do. He used up his savings, refinanced his house, and took on thousands of dollars of debt to buy and lease the newest, high-tech computerized control machine tools, expanded his facilities, and upgraded to an electronic energy management system to accommodate the new equipment.

Paul’s wife, Loretta (not her real name), a pretty 65 year old petite lady with big blue eyes and a ready smile, Moreau Machine’s receptionist, payroll maker, and mother figure to just about everyone, held Paul’s hand and said, “It’s like this . . . Paul and I’ve worked hard all our lives so we could hand over a better world not only to our children and grandchildren, but also to our employees and their families. And now, because we’ve elected and re-elected politicians who don’t care, we’re going to hand them a world in much worse shape than when we arrived.

“And, for that, we should all be ashamed.”

Copyright © 2008 by l.t. Dravis. All rights reserved.

If you have questions, comments, or concerns, Email me at LTDAssociates@msn.com (goes right to my desk) and since I personally answer every Email, I look forward to hearing from you soon.

JANICE Lost her job . . . so what?

By l.t. Dravis

SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA – Friday, November 21, 2008 – Janice’s life as she’d known it for more than twenty years ended last Friday.

The end came as a total surprise on what she expected would be another challenging but rewarding day at the job she loved almost as much as she loved her husband and their daughter.

Forty-six year old Janice had been an account executive since the summer of 1986 for a small but successful ad agency. She was responsible for managing print advertising for a regional association of car dealers. She considered her customers to be family and thoroughly enjoyed every opportunity to help them sell as many cars and trucks as their markets could absorb.

Janice had been at her desk for about an hour, working on her schedule for the following week, when the owner of the agency, Marilee Banacek (not her real name), came in and asked a rhetorical question, “Got a minute?”

“Sure do,” Janice said, waving Marilee in with a smile. “What’s up?”

Marilee bit her bottom lip, looked away for a long moment, then sat in a chair in front of Janice’s desk and said, “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you, straight out: I’m shutting down the business.”

“What? Shutting down the business? I know things are tough, but . . . ”

“The factory just announced it’s cutting off funding for co-op advertising.”

“Is this temporary or . . . “

Marilee sighed, “I got an Email early this morning announcing that, effective immediately, the factory has terminated all projects and canceled all progress payments.”

“All projects, all progress payments?” Janice asked.

“Yup,” Marilee said. “All projects and all progress payments, including last month’s check and the check we were supposed to receive next week. I’m maxed out on my credit cards, American Express has been calling, and I’m upside down on my house. With this credit crunch, I can’t borrow any more to keep things going. So, after thirty-two years of working six and seven day weeks to build this business, I’m 64 and broke.”

A couple hours later, after a series of tearful hugs and promises to keep in touch with 11 other good people who’d also lost their jobs through no fault of their own, with a small box of personal items in the back seat of her year-old Ford Fusion, Janice pulled away for the last time from the building she’d come to consider a second home.

As she headed out in traffic, all she could think of was how her husband, Tim, would react when she gave him the news.

Tim owned a small head-hunting company and business had been lousy for the last several months. He hadn’t billed a placement since August and still hadn’t collected that fee. With no money coming in, he’d been forced to lay off three assistants, and, for the first time in the twenty-six years he’d owned his own business, he was seriously thinking about closing down the office and looking for a job – any job – just to bring in some money to augment Janice’s paycheck.

For the first time in their twenty-three year marriage, Janice and Tim were forced to tap into savings to pay the monthly bills . . . Visa and MasterCard, mortgage payments, and loans on Janice’s Fusion and Tim’s two year old F150.

After deductions for taxes and health insurance, Janice’s $50,000.00 annual salary barely paid for essentials like food, clothing, utilities, and university tuition for their nineteen year old freshman daughter, Kimberly.

As Janice drove home, she realized that even though Tim had always provided primary support for the family, the simple fact that she could count on a paycheck every other Friday, provided a level of security she wasn’t sure she could live without. She also realized that not only had she lost a job, she’d also lost a group of friends she’d known and worked with for two decades; good people who provided a level of emotional support she certainly didn’t want to give up.

She walked into her house and realized that everything, while actually the same, looked different . . . she’d never seen the familiar through the eyes of someone who was completely useless, someone who was unable to contribute to anyone or anything.

Janice realized that her only challenge now was to get her emotions in check. She didn’t want Tim to see her like this. He had enough problems; he didn’t need to watch his wife come unglued.

Thank goodness, Janice thought as she cried herself to sleep on the living room sofa last Friday afternoon, Kimberly’s not home to see me like this.

Copyright © 2008 by l.t. Dravis. All rights reserved.

If you have questions, comments, or concerns, Email me at LTDAssociates@msn.com (goes right to my desk) and since I personally answer every Email, I look forward to hearing from you soon.