Some coin collectors are fucking annoying. Every week in one of the newspapers I subscribe to, there'll be one letter by a reader and his most wonderful idea for a US coin overhaul. Sometimes they'll describe their awful design ideas but others will take it further and suggest either adding or removing denominations or both and others still will suggest composition or size overhaul (or both).
I can tolerate both the first and second groups. I honestly don't think there's a coin collector out there who hasn't fantasized about issues they would like to see or what could have been based on patterns made at the mint. Some speak a bit too highly of themselves and their ideas, but whatever...more power to them.
The last group I simply don't get at all. Compositionally, okay, I get it: The nickel is overvalued; it has been for several years. Inflation has made it impossible to maintain a cupronickel coin that is 75% copper and 25% nickel by weight. Congress should be open to suggestions to make a new alloy for the coin. Some suggest cupronickel plated steel (like Canada's coins). The main problem I see with that is vending machines and change counters which use magnets to detect foreign matter and coins. It would impose significant costs onto these industries to adopt such a composition. I don't understand metallurgy but if a cupronickel plated zinc coin is feasible, perhaps they ought to try that. No magnetic problems and the zinc industry would certainly be happy and would also keep their business going in the event of the discontinuation of the cent. Our current cent, though nearly worthless, does not exceed its face value metalwise though I do believe shipping costs can push its value over a cent. I'm sure it's long since passed when the cent should have been abolished but like every coin collector, I started on the cent and my fondness for it to this day forbids me to consider its abolition. I much favor a deflationary policy on the part of the Federal Reserve rather than lose this historic coin (made every year since 1793 except 1815). All the other coins come in well below their face value in terms of their metal value and should not even been considered for composition change and yet both collectors and occasionally officials such as the now former Mint Director Moy suggested changing their metals to something cheaper. A dime only has 3¢ worth of metal in it --- how much cheaper do we need to go? It's fine!
The ones who want size changes though, piss me the fuck off. I mean, really? *mocking tone* All the other countries have their 5 unit coins smaller than their 10 unit coins so why don't we? *end mocking tone* First of all, no they don't. Even with their precious Euro, the 10 eurocent piece is smaller than their 5 eurocent piece. For those of you who don't know or don't care, the reason the dime is smaller than the nickel (and penny) is because back in the day, coins dimes, quarters, half dollars, and dollar coins were made out of silver and the amount of silver they contained was proportional to their value. Even half-dimes existed at one time and those...were tiny coins. The small cent (they used to be bigger prior to 1858) and the nickel were debased coins containing less than their face value of metal but circulated anyway because they bore the imprimatur of the United States government and people accepted that as enough. And originally, small cents were only legal tender up to 20¢ so merchants needn't worry about assholes dumping a bag of them on their counters in payment. If you had a lot of cents, you would go to a moneychanger who would give you silver and/or gold for them, but at a discount. That way, cent production was kept under control unlike today with a combination of inflation and unlimited legal tender status (1965 coinage act, yay!), cent production is enormous and generally accounts for half of all coins made in this country aaaand of course, leads to assholes paying you with a fistful of them because they can. If you could only use no more than five in a transaction, maybe people wouldn't let them build up in jars for quite so long.
The big deal I have with changing coin sizes besides being a traditionalist, is that, because of the Coinage Act of 1965, all US coins were affirmed to have legal tender status regardless of when minted. That means, although you would be foolish to do so, you could spend a 1793 chain cent (the first issued by the US) as a cent to this day. It also means that older coins can still be found (on rare occasions). Other countries have suffered numerous revaluations or in the case of England, decimalization, which removes older coins from circulation. If you live in most of Europe now, the oldest coins you will find are dated 1999 and that's because many countries adopted the Euro and eliminated their national currencies. It kind of happened here when silver was removed from circulating coins. The older silver pieces were quickly plucked out of circulation leaving only a few different dates for a while (Canada's government does this as well removing the older nickel coins from circulation to melt them down at a profit causing the majority of circulating Canadian coins to be dated later than 2000). But their sizes remained intact despite the composition change which allows for occasional appearances of older coins in circulation. The United States is one of a tiny handful of countries where it is possible (however unlikely) to find coins over 100 years old in your change. The bookkeeper in my store just the other week got a 1905 Liberty nickel. I myself got an 1895 Indian Head cent once and other workers in my store have seen older (an 1889 and 1864 bronze cent to be specific). A customer showed me a Barber quarter he got one day (minted between 1892 and 1916). That simply cannot happen in other countries and that's because the United States puts out a consistent product. The quality and value of that product have certainly gone down over the years, but tradition has reigned supreme.
So that's basically it. I don't want our coins to change in size because it allows for occasional surprises in my coin rolls at work and while roll searching generally produces nothing of note anymore, I don't see how one can call himself a coin collector knowing that remains possible to this day.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
THE AUDACITY OF HOPE...
Regarding the situation with my apartment, a little over a week ago my coworkers advised me that a friend of theirs was looking for a place to live. She had been living with her boyfriend but they have since broken up but are still awkwardly living together for the time-being. They both understandably want to part ways. She's a stewardess on international flights so she's not around much and is basically looking for a place to crash when she is home. I was off when this conversation came up but, as I've said, my coworkers felt I would be a good match for her seeing as how I am tidy and responsible. She would also prefer a male roommate which I am so uh...bonus?
We ended up meeting at work the following Sunday (this would be April 3rd for those of you keeping track) and talked for much longer than I should have been allowed to get away with - like a half hour: did nobody notice I wasn't at my post? I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment in that I rarely do such things so I was given a little leeway this time or if I simply make no impression on the management when I'm there (in the sense that I am less a personality and more a drone). Anyways...
The maximum rent the stewardess could afford was within the range I am paying to live here. She told me about what she does and her current situation. She described past situations where she had been burned by friends causing her to lose her security deposit and having to pay certain bills like cable all by herself so she was understanding of my skepticism of having a virtual stranger to live with. She also added that she was looking to move in by May or June at the latest (my current lease ends June 30th) with May being preferable so she could avoid having to stay with a friend for a month and that she may or may not be bringing two cats with her (this would depend on whether or not her ex-boyfriend wanted them). Regarding the cats, I was more than okay. I even told her that I would be happy to care for them while she was away. If they are as friendly as she claims, they might actually yield a positive psychological benefit as well in that they could moderate my increasingly frequent and longer-lasting sad periods which may become yet another full-blown depression in the coming months. The only potential problem was whether or not my current roommate would be willing to oblige her and move out sooner. We exchanged information and parted.
Now, given the choice between attempting to pay for an apartment myself and being essentially working poor and maintaining (for at least one more year) my subsidized working class lifestyle, I opted for the latter. Thankfully my roommate actually mentioned that he would be moving out at the end of this lease a week prior so now I brought up the stewardess and he eagerly (almost too eagerly if you ask me) accepted the idea of moving out sooner. And here I thought I might have to bribe him! Lowballing wins again!
I texted the stewardess that everything was fine with my roommate and that we should talk/meet to discuss details with each other. Basically all her soft demands were met. Exactly what she wanted and...I have not heard back from her. Now, it is entirely possible that during this past week she was literally out of the country so I chose to be patient. But after a week, I texted again and...still no response. I'm really not sure if this is a hint I ought to be taking. I should've known too that the moment I felt hope at work that this might actually work out that this whole idea was doomed. Hope so rarely in my life is ever realized and like blushing, I can't control it. Hope just happens and when it does, it both angers and depresses me because I know it will soon decay and I will again be left feeling dejected.
I dunno, maybe I'll look foolish for having posted this in a day or two. If not, just another item on a long list of unrealized hopes. I even dared to feel it again tonight when my roommate, upon hearing my difficulties, pointed out that if his job works out better, he would be willing to do another year here. Sad that despite how frustrating this experience has been with him, that such an option is now welcomed and even sadder if I come to depend on it in any way whatsoever and he has to leave anyhow...
How did my parents afford to live here? It's been so frustrating and depressing lately and my still as-of-yet unknown housing arrangements are only serving to fuel my down-cycles. Between this and the Digby situation and my ever-increasing age and feelings of worthlessness and that of being a loser and unapproachability and being increasingly dispirited with the knowledge that all I have and may ever do will only benefit me...it's really leaving me stressed out and despairing. I wanted to be married by now, have a kid or two. I wanted to know I could have someone I could depend on. I wanted to just have someone I've wanted by now but even that joy has eluded me throughout my increasingly long and unfulfilling and wasted adult life. Are all my bad choices finally coming to a head? Have I finally run out of time? Like I've said before, I feel like a star fusing carbon into neon. How long until I am fusing neon into oxygen and other increasingly ineffective solutions?
I feel like I'm breaking...
ADDENDUM: The Stewardess was in my store again and apologized to me because it turns out her phone had stopped sending messages for like a month or two. She said she had sent me a long message (I guess to tell me that she had opted not to live with me) that I thus likely never got. She also lost out on an opportunity to get a better job (also as a stewardess) for a private airliner which would have paid her much much more than she was making now. It doesn't matter if this is true or not. She could've still contacted me through Facebook since I had sent her a message there, but no bother... She asked for my forgiveness and I gave it. Despite my apostasy, I am still rather Christian when it comes to this sort of stuff. I go by Abraham Lincoln's rule: Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Admittedly this was not followed with Digby, but then I was a fool in love...or perhaps just a fool.
We ended up meeting at work the following Sunday (this would be April 3rd for those of you keeping track) and talked for much longer than I should have been allowed to get away with - like a half hour: did nobody notice I wasn't at my post? I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment in that I rarely do such things so I was given a little leeway this time or if I simply make no impression on the management when I'm there (in the sense that I am less a personality and more a drone). Anyways...
The maximum rent the stewardess could afford was within the range I am paying to live here. She told me about what she does and her current situation. She described past situations where she had been burned by friends causing her to lose her security deposit and having to pay certain bills like cable all by herself so she was understanding of my skepticism of having a virtual stranger to live with. She also added that she was looking to move in by May or June at the latest (my current lease ends June 30th) with May being preferable so she could avoid having to stay with a friend for a month and that she may or may not be bringing two cats with her (this would depend on whether or not her ex-boyfriend wanted them). Regarding the cats, I was more than okay. I even told her that I would be happy to care for them while she was away. If they are as friendly as she claims, they might actually yield a positive psychological benefit as well in that they could moderate my increasingly frequent and longer-lasting sad periods which may become yet another full-blown depression in the coming months. The only potential problem was whether or not my current roommate would be willing to oblige her and move out sooner. We exchanged information and parted.
Now, given the choice between attempting to pay for an apartment myself and being essentially working poor and maintaining (for at least one more year) my subsidized working class lifestyle, I opted for the latter. Thankfully my roommate actually mentioned that he would be moving out at the end of this lease a week prior so now I brought up the stewardess and he eagerly (almost too eagerly if you ask me) accepted the idea of moving out sooner. And here I thought I might have to bribe him! Lowballing wins again!
I texted the stewardess that everything was fine with my roommate and that we should talk/meet to discuss details with each other. Basically all her soft demands were met. Exactly what she wanted and...I have not heard back from her. Now, it is entirely possible that during this past week she was literally out of the country so I chose to be patient. But after a week, I texted again and...still no response. I'm really not sure if this is a hint I ought to be taking. I should've known too that the moment I felt hope at work that this might actually work out that this whole idea was doomed. Hope so rarely in my life is ever realized and like blushing, I can't control it. Hope just happens and when it does, it both angers and depresses me because I know it will soon decay and I will again be left feeling dejected.
I dunno, maybe I'll look foolish for having posted this in a day or two. If not, just another item on a long list of unrealized hopes. I even dared to feel it again tonight when my roommate, upon hearing my difficulties, pointed out that if his job works out better, he would be willing to do another year here. Sad that despite how frustrating this experience has been with him, that such an option is now welcomed and even sadder if I come to depend on it in any way whatsoever and he has to leave anyhow...
How did my parents afford to live here? It's been so frustrating and depressing lately and my still as-of-yet unknown housing arrangements are only serving to fuel my down-cycles. Between this and the Digby situation and my ever-increasing age and feelings of worthlessness and that of being a loser and unapproachability and being increasingly dispirited with the knowledge that all I have and may ever do will only benefit me...it's really leaving me stressed out and despairing. I wanted to be married by now, have a kid or two. I wanted to know I could have someone I could depend on. I wanted to just have someone I've wanted by now but even that joy has eluded me throughout my increasingly long and unfulfilling and wasted adult life. Are all my bad choices finally coming to a head? Have I finally run out of time? Like I've said before, I feel like a star fusing carbon into neon. How long until I am fusing neon into oxygen and other increasingly ineffective solutions?
I feel like I'm breaking...
ADDENDUM: The Stewardess was in my store again and apologized to me because it turns out her phone had stopped sending messages for like a month or two. She said she had sent me a long message (I guess to tell me that she had opted not to live with me) that I thus likely never got. She also lost out on an opportunity to get a better job (also as a stewardess) for a private airliner which would have paid her much much more than she was making now. It doesn't matter if this is true or not. She could've still contacted me through Facebook since I had sent her a message there, but no bother... She asked for my forgiveness and I gave it. Despite my apostasy, I am still rather Christian when it comes to this sort of stuff. I go by Abraham Lincoln's rule: Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Admittedly this was not followed with Digby, but then I was a fool in love...or perhaps just a fool.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
I ACTUALLY LIKE THIS SHIT, part XXV
"Sometimes" by Britney Spears
Look, I'm a sucker for mellow songs, okay? Britney really has a dead stare in her eyes doesn't she? Lifeless eyes...like a doll's eyes. :-)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
LINES WHICH CONTACT AN ARC OR CIRCLE AT ONLY ONE POINT...
Sometime last week on the Opie and Anthony Show, Anthony was again referencing an old made-for-cable porn movie called "The Cheerleaders" he saw as a teenager. This movie usually comes up when talking about some creepy guy who got arrested for doing something or other. He would reference one scene where one of the girls, during a sleepover, happens upon the father in the living room. "Well, what do we have here?" was the line that Anthony would say while effecting a creepy, nervous-sounding voice before they end up having sex.
I had heard this reference made plenty of times before but this time, I actually heard the title of the film so I looked it up so I could see the scene for myself. The film was actually a soft-core title made in 1973. There were attempts at humor but nothing particularly effective. A couple of scenes in the classic "Debbie Does Dallas" were actually funny. Nothing in this film.
I didn't watch the whole film. I just did the other thing I particularly enjoy when watching a pornographic film or vignette: waiting for the moment it becomes porn. Because all porn films have that in common: the set-up. Most scenes don't begin mid-fuck, they have to get to that point. Some ease into it organically while others just drop the pretenses clumsily. When done organically, the resulting scene can actually be rather hot. Done clumsily, it can either ruin the vignette or simply be hilarious. Generally it causes ruin if the vignette in question has a set-up that you would actually want to happen in some way, shape, or form. I guess the ruination is the result of it deviating too far from your fantasy, but whatever. Pornographic films, unlike the vignettes, actually have normal set-ups which introduce us to the characters and plot. If the film can keep you interested, you can actually forget you're watching a porno until that first scene.
And it was during these opening minutes where the film "The Cheerleaders" produced the most offensive imagery I think I have ever seen in a pornographic film:
I mean, look at those prices! In 1973, I could get two hotdogs and side order of fries and still get change for my dollar. And those are inflated concession-stand prices. What the hell happened to our dollar? Sigh...
Anyhow, it turns out Anthony remembers the scene described earlier better than it actually was making it kind of a let-down.
The other strange, possibly sad, thing I learned on this adventure is that it was far easier for me to locate an obscure early 1970s soft-core porn title on the internet than it was for me to locate a dealer who specializes in foreign coins. There are some Italian issues that I have been interested in for quite a while. I finally stumbled on the right combination of search terms and after much link-jumping finally located a consortium of dealers in Europe who all collectively offer on a large website. While the sites offer English, I was still nonetheless thankful I had taken French and German in school. The sites also offered additional proof that despite the United States being one of the newer nations, our coins are the shit in terms of value. It's almost offensive that a cent made a mere 80 years ago (1931-S), despite being fairly available, sells for more than a British silver penny made in the 13th century (yeah, the penny used to be like the dollar today before it got debased into a bottom-rung coin). In fact, a denarius featuring none-other than THE Julius Caesar on it, while expensive (over a $1,000), sells for less than several key-date US coins (1909-S VDB 1¢; 1885 5¢; 1916-D 10¢; 1901-S 25¢; 1921-S 50¢; 1893-S $1). You can even get coins with fucking Napoléon on them for less than some semi-key coins. Napoléon!
And this folks, is a taste of how my mind works. I started by talking about a soft-core porno and, through a series of tangents, ended up talking about the relative values of coins.
I had heard this reference made plenty of times before but this time, I actually heard the title of the film so I looked it up so I could see the scene for myself. The film was actually a soft-core title made in 1973. There were attempts at humor but nothing particularly effective. A couple of scenes in the classic "Debbie Does Dallas" were actually funny. Nothing in this film.
I didn't watch the whole film. I just did the other thing I particularly enjoy when watching a pornographic film or vignette: waiting for the moment it becomes porn. Because all porn films have that in common: the set-up. Most scenes don't begin mid-fuck, they have to get to that point. Some ease into it organically while others just drop the pretenses clumsily. When done organically, the resulting scene can actually be rather hot. Done clumsily, it can either ruin the vignette or simply be hilarious. Generally it causes ruin if the vignette in question has a set-up that you would actually want to happen in some way, shape, or form. I guess the ruination is the result of it deviating too far from your fantasy, but whatever. Pornographic films, unlike the vignettes, actually have normal set-ups which introduce us to the characters and plot. If the film can keep you interested, you can actually forget you're watching a porno until that first scene.
And it was during these opening minutes where the film "The Cheerleaders" produced the most offensive imagery I think I have ever seen in a pornographic film:
Anyhow, it turns out Anthony remembers the scene described earlier better than it actually was making it kind of a let-down.
The other strange, possibly sad, thing I learned on this adventure is that it was far easier for me to locate an obscure early 1970s soft-core porn title on the internet than it was for me to locate a dealer who specializes in foreign coins. There are some Italian issues that I have been interested in for quite a while. I finally stumbled on the right combination of search terms and after much link-jumping finally located a consortium of dealers in Europe who all collectively offer on a large website. While the sites offer English, I was still nonetheless thankful I had taken French and German in school. The sites also offered additional proof that despite the United States being one of the newer nations, our coins are the shit in terms of value. It's almost offensive that a cent made a mere 80 years ago (1931-S), despite being fairly available, sells for more than a British silver penny made in the 13th century (yeah, the penny used to be like the dollar today before it got debased into a bottom-rung coin). In fact, a denarius featuring none-other than THE Julius Caesar on it, while expensive (over a $1,000), sells for less than several key-date US coins (1909-S VDB 1¢; 1885 5¢; 1916-D 10¢; 1901-S 25¢; 1921-S 50¢; 1893-S $1). You can even get coins with fucking Napoléon on them for less than some semi-key coins. Napoléon!
And this folks, is a taste of how my mind works. I started by talking about a soft-core porno and, through a series of tangents, ended up talking about the relative values of coins.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
IGNORANCE CAN ALSO BE HILARIOUS
Not too long ago, I got a random friend request (from an actual person and not a robo-account, can you imagine!) after making a comment on a Facebook Security post (which also generated a practically instant 8 Likes, nice...). She's currently my farthest away Facebook-friend, a whopping 9,400 miles in Indonesia. She's been taking an English class for a little over a year now. While she makes some fairly obvious grammar errors, none of it renders her unable to be understood and to be quite honest, she writes in English after one year far better than I could write French after taking it for a year. It's also fun because I can use Google Translate to find out what she's saying in her language (so long as she's spelling her own language's words correctly - I love when Google Translate asks me if I meant something else -- how the fuck would I know?!!).
Anyways, today I had a Family Guy reference stuck in my head and posted it on my Facebook wall in an effort to spread the earworm to others. The clip includes the set-up where Lois mentions the high tuition for Morningwood Academy so I commented on that à la Butthead to which I got this response:
You can't make this stuff up folks. It's so innocent...and so hilarious...and then she compounds it with "Nightwood". I don't have the heart to tell her what "morningwood" means but I did do her a favor and delete the damning comment. I like her too much to subject her to my less-sensitive friends, though I will subject her to you guys :-)
I can only hope she doesn't ask me why I deleted her comment. I really don't want to tell her what it means. I don't want to feel the blush of a girl ten thousand miles away, haha.
Anyways, today I had a Family Guy reference stuck in my head and posted it on my Facebook wall in an effort to spread the earworm to others. The clip includes the set-up where Lois mentions the high tuition for Morningwood Academy so I commented on that à la Butthead to which I got this response:
 |
| (click on the image to enlarge it - oh double entendre!) |
You can't make this stuff up folks. It's so innocent...and so hilarious...and then she compounds it with "Nightwood". I don't have the heart to tell her what "morningwood" means but I did do her a favor and delete the damning comment. I like her too much to subject her to my less-sensitive friends, though I will subject her to you guys :-)
I can only hope she doesn't ask me why I deleted her comment. I really don't want to tell her what it means. I don't want to feel the blush of a girl ten thousand miles away, haha.
I ACTUALLY LIKE THIS SHIT, part XXIV
"Barbie Girl" by Aqua
One of those guilty pleasure songs, that's for sure. I don't think I could ever actually listen to this with other people around for fear that they wouldn't get why I like this song. It isn't particularly good, but it's fun and silly...and of course, it quickly gets stuck in your head. Another earworm song.
I just noticed the frontwoman has a tattoo on her arm. This was 1997 so that makes the tattoo hot I guess as they had yet to become commonplace on girls. I remember this girl in college the same year who had a lower-back tattoo. She was the first girl I had ever seen with one. It was a simple, appropriately-sized, black-ink-only bilaterally symmetrical tribal-type design and goddamn was it hot as she was hot. It was win-win all around ^_^ And then far too many girls got those kinds of tattoos and others as well making such body art fairly unpalatable to me nowadays. But she was the first, she was ahead of the trend, and she will always have that.
I wouldn't even know how to render the way she says "hair" in IPA. Oh well. C'mon Barbie, let's go party!
Friday, April 1, 2011
ODDS AND ENDS...
One of the apartment complexes I have been calling finally called me back yesterday...in the middle of the afternoon...while I was sleeping...because it was a work night for me. Thanks for not calling either Monday or Tuesday. So, on less than three hours sleep, an appointment for a viewing was finally made at the complex that was offering a rent that, while it would be a tighter fit than I would like it to be, I could definitely afford. This would be $925/mo. folks.
If I changed none of my spending habits, a rent at that rate would net me, on average, $50 a month profit. Not much at all, but still most definitely in the black. I based my affordability on last year, my first full year here at my current apartment. I shorted my income by not including my income tax refund nor did I include any money that I was owed by my roommate for half the cable and electric bill since I would be fully responsible for those amounts on my own. I also overestimated my expenses by keeping my "luxury" purchases in even though I normally expense those through my tax refund. The basic idea is that I would rather overestimate my expenses and underestimate my income than the other way around.
Anyhow, as annoyed as I was that I had to do this on a worknight, I was excited that I may soon have a place to live in a few months. Unfortunately, as much as I would have liked to have gotten started on the credit check and whatnot, this place has a hard-on for cashier's checks for everything before your first normal rent. Cashier check for the credit check, another one for first month's rent, another one for the key fee, and another one still for the security deposit. So as aggravating as that is, of course I would put up with it because, well, I need a fucking place to live. They need not spare me inconveniences in my effort to secure a rental.
However, I will not be living in this apartment complex and it's not because I can't pass a credit check but rather, because I cannot meet their minimum income threshold. I honestly don't know anyone who could and would still choose to live in such an apartment anyway. According to their agreement, I would have to make one month's rent in one week's pay. Here, I'll do the math for you: if you are grossing $925 a week, that means you are making $48,100 a year (or to put it another way, that's a full-time job at $23.25 an hour). I don't know anyone who both makes that amount and would still choose to board themselves in such mediocre apartments.
Needless to say I was both shocked and distressed by this obscene amount. I would understand one's rent having to be 50% or less their monthly income, but 23% or less?! (remember there are four and a third weeks in a month, not simply four). That's the old-school definition of middle class (first paycheck goes to mortgage, second paycheck goes to bills, third goes to family expenses, and the fourth is for your future). And if you're that middle class, why not just get a fucking house? Because $50,000 a year just speaks apartment class to me (end sarcasm).
After taxes, that's about $750 a week. My combined expenses at this place were projected to be approximately $1700 a month for everything I do. I'm sure I would uptick my standard of living a little bit at such an income level, but what would I need with an extra $1500 a month? Even if I got a car, I'd still have easily over a $1000 in the black per month. It seems an excessive income threshold to me. It almost feels like old-school redlining.
So now I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated that I can't live there because I don't meet some arbitrary threshold. It reminds me of when I tried getting a credit card at 27. I didn't accept the offers that came in when I was 18 because I didn't have a job and stupid me, thought it would be a bad idea to have access to credit that I might not be able to pay back. I start applying at 27 and kept getting rejected because I didn't "have a credit history". Again, stupid me for thinking that because I had never bounced a check and because I had been at the same job for five years and because I had a mid-five figure balance of cash savings steadily deposited over the years that I believed I had sufficient capital to warrant the bank taking a chance on me. Nope. Rejection after rejection (and then rejections because I was getting rejected too much!) until Dad cosigned me onto one of his cards. And then in no time at all, acceptance after acceptance. And the irony of it all is that I was at much greater risk of default when I was getting accepted than I was when I was getting rejected as I was still living at home at the time. It didn't matter. I argued with the banker's opinion of my creditworthiness pointing out that I was not asking for a $20,000 line of credit; that I would be happy with a "starter card" with a credit line of $100, but no. There was no reasoning with those people as there was no reasoning with this rental agent.
It doesn't matter to her that I have sufficient collateral to cover my lease in the event of default. Nope, only my income matters. I would love for an audit of all current tenants to be done to see if they actually meet the income thresholds for their units. This is a whole new aspect of renting that I have not considered and it scares me. It scares me that if too many complexes are like this, I could potentially be homeless with a $28,000 a year job. Only in New Jersey... I can only hope that my complex, if it comes down to remaining here, is not nearly so picky. I would like to think they must not be considering my and my roommate's combined income at signing was about $900 a week gross (on what would be a $1295/mo. rent). But still, I would not be able to afford the $995/mo. asking price of a 1BR apartment without making some serious cuts to my budget. I was already strongly considering ridding myself of cable since I rarely watch anything but broadcast these days, but if this is to be, I'll have to consider simply cancelling television altogether and watching the shows I insist on seeing online instead. I could also ditch my cellphone and return to a landline via that "triple play" thing which would save me about $100 a month (for a year at least). This is tense...
I left feeling seriously dejected. I've always believed that I'm a loser but seeing my life simply come down to a number like that was like having it proven to me. I would never have called this place if I could not afford to live there and even though the numbers work out in my favor, it doesn't matter. My efficient life is insufficient. I've done my best and have still failed. I actually wept a bit when I got home. I haven't cried since Dad died and that was over two years ago now. Congratulations ex-prospective apartment complex on achieving such a rare feat... I feel like I'm breaking...
I'm despairing. I feel like I can't do anything right and that I'm incapable of ever getting what I set my mind on...ever. I don't know what to do...and these other places don't call me back. I'm gonna be forced into moving even farther from work than I am now. It's already getting tedious to walk two miles to work. The prospect of doing three (an hour commute) until my legs finally give out is not something I look forward to.
I was so tired and later became so hungry at work. I was really craving fried chicken at the end of my shift. I didn't feel like cooking at all when I got home. We were sold out of fried chicken that I could just reheat so I had to cook anyway...and it wasn't fried chicken. I really wanted that taste but was denied it. And then I had blood in my stool for the first time in almost a year. Thanks body, even you're against me... I even set up a Yahoo! account to use for an attempt at online dating. How am I gonna do that now? I can afford to date now, but how can I do so when I may only be clearing $50 a month? I'm such a failure. It's never gotten easier. Every stage of my life has been harder and it takes more (increasingly ineffective) effort each time just to keep the balance. I'm a star fusing carbon into neon...
ADDENDUM: Oh, and to insult to the injury that was yesterday, the bookkeeper got an AG/FR 1905 Liberty nickel while counting out tills (that's a shitty looking nickel for those of you not in the know, but grade's not the point in cases like this). That would've been the oldest nickel I had ever found had I gotten the nickel roll that was nested in. Currently my oldest found nickel is a partially-dated 1923 Buffalo nickel. I have a couple of dateless Buffalo nickels which may be older, but I don't have the etching acid necessary to try to bring out the date.
I guess since I'm bragging (and to add a counterpoint to this depressing entry), my oldest finds are an 1895 Indian Head cent, a 1923 Buffalo nickel, a 1926-D Mercury dime, a dateless Type-II Standing Liberty quarter (1917-1924) - my oldest dated quarter is a 1939 Washington Quarter, a 1906-O Barber half dollar, and a 1971 Eisenhower dollar.
If I changed none of my spending habits, a rent at that rate would net me, on average, $50 a month profit. Not much at all, but still most definitely in the black. I based my affordability on last year, my first full year here at my current apartment. I shorted my income by not including my income tax refund nor did I include any money that I was owed by my roommate for half the cable and electric bill since I would be fully responsible for those amounts on my own. I also overestimated my expenses by keeping my "luxury" purchases in even though I normally expense those through my tax refund. The basic idea is that I would rather overestimate my expenses and underestimate my income than the other way around.
Anyhow, as annoyed as I was that I had to do this on a worknight, I was excited that I may soon have a place to live in a few months. Unfortunately, as much as I would have liked to have gotten started on the credit check and whatnot, this place has a hard-on for cashier's checks for everything before your first normal rent. Cashier check for the credit check, another one for first month's rent, another one for the key fee, and another one still for the security deposit. So as aggravating as that is, of course I would put up with it because, well, I need a fucking place to live. They need not spare me inconveniences in my effort to secure a rental.
However, I will not be living in this apartment complex and it's not because I can't pass a credit check but rather, because I cannot meet their minimum income threshold. I honestly don't know anyone who could and would still choose to live in such an apartment anyway. According to their agreement, I would have to make one month's rent in one week's pay. Here, I'll do the math for you: if you are grossing $925 a week, that means you are making $48,100 a year (or to put it another way, that's a full-time job at $23.25 an hour). I don't know anyone who both makes that amount and would still choose to board themselves in such mediocre apartments.
Needless to say I was both shocked and distressed by this obscene amount. I would understand one's rent having to be 50% or less their monthly income, but 23% or less?! (remember there are four and a third weeks in a month, not simply four). That's the old-school definition of middle class (first paycheck goes to mortgage, second paycheck goes to bills, third goes to family expenses, and the fourth is for your future). And if you're that middle class, why not just get a fucking house? Because $50,000 a year just speaks apartment class to me (end sarcasm).
After taxes, that's about $750 a week. My combined expenses at this place were projected to be approximately $1700 a month for everything I do. I'm sure I would uptick my standard of living a little bit at such an income level, but what would I need with an extra $1500 a month? Even if I got a car, I'd still have easily over a $1000 in the black per month. It seems an excessive income threshold to me. It almost feels like old-school redlining.
So now I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated that I can't live there because I don't meet some arbitrary threshold. It reminds me of when I tried getting a credit card at 27. I didn't accept the offers that came in when I was 18 because I didn't have a job and stupid me, thought it would be a bad idea to have access to credit that I might not be able to pay back. I start applying at 27 and kept getting rejected because I didn't "have a credit history". Again, stupid me for thinking that because I had never bounced a check and because I had been at the same job for five years and because I had a mid-five figure balance of cash savings steadily deposited over the years that I believed I had sufficient capital to warrant the bank taking a chance on me. Nope. Rejection after rejection (and then rejections because I was getting rejected too much!) until Dad cosigned me onto one of his cards. And then in no time at all, acceptance after acceptance. And the irony of it all is that I was at much greater risk of default when I was getting accepted than I was when I was getting rejected as I was still living at home at the time. It didn't matter. I argued with the banker's opinion of my creditworthiness pointing out that I was not asking for a $20,000 line of credit; that I would be happy with a "starter card" with a credit line of $100, but no. There was no reasoning with those people as there was no reasoning with this rental agent.
It doesn't matter to her that I have sufficient collateral to cover my lease in the event of default. Nope, only my income matters. I would love for an audit of all current tenants to be done to see if they actually meet the income thresholds for their units. This is a whole new aspect of renting that I have not considered and it scares me. It scares me that if too many complexes are like this, I could potentially be homeless with a $28,000 a year job. Only in New Jersey... I can only hope that my complex, if it comes down to remaining here, is not nearly so picky. I would like to think they must not be considering my and my roommate's combined income at signing was about $900 a week gross (on what would be a $1295/mo. rent). But still, I would not be able to afford the $995/mo. asking price of a 1BR apartment without making some serious cuts to my budget. I was already strongly considering ridding myself of cable since I rarely watch anything but broadcast these days, but if this is to be, I'll have to consider simply cancelling television altogether and watching the shows I insist on seeing online instead. I could also ditch my cellphone and return to a landline via that "triple play" thing which would save me about $100 a month (for a year at least). This is tense...
I left feeling seriously dejected. I've always believed that I'm a loser but seeing my life simply come down to a number like that was like having it proven to me. I would never have called this place if I could not afford to live there and even though the numbers work out in my favor, it doesn't matter. My efficient life is insufficient. I've done my best and have still failed. I actually wept a bit when I got home. I haven't cried since Dad died and that was over two years ago now. Congratulations ex-prospective apartment complex on achieving such a rare feat... I feel like I'm breaking...
I'm despairing. I feel like I can't do anything right and that I'm incapable of ever getting what I set my mind on...ever. I don't know what to do...and these other places don't call me back. I'm gonna be forced into moving even farther from work than I am now. It's already getting tedious to walk two miles to work. The prospect of doing three (an hour commute) until my legs finally give out is not something I look forward to.
I was so tired and later became so hungry at work. I was really craving fried chicken at the end of my shift. I didn't feel like cooking at all when I got home. We were sold out of fried chicken that I could just reheat so I had to cook anyway...and it wasn't fried chicken. I really wanted that taste but was denied it. And then I had blood in my stool for the first time in almost a year. Thanks body, even you're against me... I even set up a Yahoo! account to use for an attempt at online dating. How am I gonna do that now? I can afford to date now, but how can I do so when I may only be clearing $50 a month? I'm such a failure. It's never gotten easier. Every stage of my life has been harder and it takes more (increasingly ineffective) effort each time just to keep the balance. I'm a star fusing carbon into neon...
ADDENDUM: Oh, and to insult to the injury that was yesterday, the bookkeeper got an AG/FR 1905 Liberty nickel while counting out tills (that's a shitty looking nickel for those of you not in the know, but grade's not the point in cases like this). That would've been the oldest nickel I had ever found had I gotten the nickel roll that was nested in. Currently my oldest found nickel is a partially-dated 1923 Buffalo nickel. I have a couple of dateless Buffalo nickels which may be older, but I don't have the etching acid necessary to try to bring out the date.
I guess since I'm bragging (and to add a counterpoint to this depressing entry), my oldest finds are an 1895 Indian Head cent, a 1923 Buffalo nickel, a 1926-D Mercury dime, a dateless Type-II Standing Liberty quarter (1917-1924) - my oldest dated quarter is a 1939 Washington Quarter, a 1906-O Barber half dollar, and a 1971 Eisenhower dollar.