Your Money Matters by Thomas Sottile, Esq.
A ‘Jack’ Of All Trades, Off The Books —
But A Master Of Survival
In certain precincts around the far suburbs of Western Pennsylvania a man aptly named Jack has a ubiquitous presence. Someone new to the area might even argue that he really is one of two or three identical brothers, all with the same faded Airborne Ranger tattoo.
Jack, who is on the young side of 65, and a Vietnam veteran, is the jocular fellow who makes hoagies at the local convenience store on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. But on Monday and Wednesday mornings he's profiling his anvil biceps and Hollywood shades while hanging from the sidebar of a trash truck as it makes the neighborhood rounds.
If you happen to be strolling late at night on the local college campus, you won't see Jack--unless you look carefully behind that tall crooked stack of pizza boxes that's wending its way up the staircase of the east dormitory where a frat party is in full regalia.
When autumn leaves must fall, Jack laments only if he can't get enough hours on the raking and blowing crew. He's good for long days on end in the exhilarating November air; wearing a woolen cap with his gray beard growing in and Penn State football or the Eagles tuned on his earphones. He says that leaf clean-up gets him into shape for the shoveling and plowing soon to follow. So with all this work, how does he have the time to pull draughts behind the bar at the corner tavern?
"Oh, I like serving the customers out here with the games on the televisions. And the tips are decent. Usually they have me in the back cooking or dishwashing. But that's okay, too. When I'm working I'm happier than Donald Trump. And my casinos ain't in foreclosure, neither," Jack says with a chuckle. "Tomorrow morning 7:30 a.m. sharp I got a gig helping a law firm move its office up the block. A few hundred file boxes I'm told. A two-and-a-half day job at least, and maybe a nice lunch thrown in if they're not too cheap. Saturday morning, get this. I'm unloading two trucks of kitty litter at a homeless shelter for cats. I never knew such a thing existed until they called me with the offer. They must have seen my fancy business card pinned to the bulletin board at the Acme. You know, 3-by-5 with 'Jack of All Trades' written in black ink and my cell phone number."
"Heck! How many payrolls are you on?" a patron asks.
Jack looks him over and shakes his head from side to side. "Nada."
"You're off the books everywhere?"
"You're kidding me, right? In here I fill in when the owner's wife wants to babysit the grandchildren. I'm on the truck when none of the regulars wants the overtime. And I deliver the pizzas because they can't find a local high school kid reliable enough show up three days in a row. Mom and pop businesses can't afford to hire permanent employees, but they need the work done when they need it. And when they don't, they don't. But if your name is out there enough, you get called. Do an honest job and you get called back. Pretty soon you're seeing real money. You know…$7.25 per hour is not much, which is why they call it minimum wage. But take it from on top up here and put it down there and it becomes $10 an hour, or so I'm told. Now, if I had a lobbyist in Washington getting me a tax loophole, great! Unfortunately, I do not."
Jack walks to the far end of the bar to set up another patron, turning his head to talk while he pours.
"I got laid off from construction a few years back when the housing market tanked. I found work in New Orleans after the hurricane because they sent federal money down there. I would go back to the building trades in a minute if they called me. But in the meantime I have a bank savings account that's paying me 1% interest. That's a laugh with inflation running at near 4%. And with unemployment at 9.7% you know that there's competition for what I do. I mean, I've seen guys showing up on landscaping jobs and working for free on the chance that the foreman will take them on. Sometimes they're just asked to leave. And then they wait at the end of the block standing there on the hope that they'll get waved over. I haven't had to do that yet."
"What the heck are you wearing on your feet, Jack?"
"Cowboy boots, man! Brand new. I'm breaking them in. Me and the wife are taking up country dancing. You got to live a little, too. Right?"
"You know, did you ever think that the employers are taking advantage of you? Plus, if everybody had to hire regular workers, there would be more and better-paying jobs."
"I believe that," said Jack. "But you're talking about the big picture. I'm all about finding work. When you show up and they don't want to know your last name, and they tell you you're just 'filling in', you get the idea what the deal is. Hey! If anybody wants to hire me and put me on the payroll, I'm all for it. Hustling and scrambling gets old, especially at my age. And I could use a few sick days and dare-I-say health benefits. But that's not happening out here in this economy. Now $10.00 per hour multiplied by ten hours a day for a work week, which is all seven days for me when I can get it, buys the premium roast."
"Jack-"
"Don't give me that look! Do you think the jobs I do would exist if it wasn't for me? I cut myself in only because it's cheaper for them to pay me like they do, in cash, with a nod and a wink. And once I get called back to construction, I'll be legit again and make it all up and more."
"What about if you get injured on job? Where's your workers' compensation if you slip on a sliced lime or trip over a cocktail parasol and knock your back out? What then? No work. No money. No country dancing, either."
"Yeah, well, right out of high school I got two free tours in the Far East where the lead content in the air was mighty high. But I survived that. You've got to be careful, that's all."
The U. S. Government Accountability Office (GAO) estimates that the individual income tax gap, between what is owned and what is paid, is in the hundreds of billions of dollars. The common theme of these studies is that there has been, for those taxpayers with the ability to determine their own reported income, an increasing underreporting of earnings.
*
Thomas Sottile is an attorney in Media, PA. He retired from the U.S. Postal Inspection Service after 23 years as an investigator and attorney.
A ‘Jack’ Of All Trades, Off The Books —
But A Master Of Survival
In certain precincts around the far suburbs of Western Pennsylvania a man aptly named Jack has a ubiquitous presence. Someone new to the area might even argue that he really is one of two or three identical brothers, all with the same faded Airborne Ranger tattoo.
Jack, who is on the young side of 65, and a Vietnam veteran, is the jocular fellow who makes hoagies at the local convenience store on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. But on Monday and Wednesday mornings he's profiling his anvil biceps and Hollywood shades while hanging from the sidebar of a trash truck as it makes the neighborhood rounds.
If you happen to be strolling late at night on the local college campus, you won't see Jack--unless you look carefully behind that tall crooked stack of pizza boxes that's wending its way up the staircase of the east dormitory where a frat party is in full regalia.
When autumn leaves must fall, Jack laments only if he can't get enough hours on the raking and blowing crew. He's good for long days on end in the exhilarating November air; wearing a woolen cap with his gray beard growing in and Penn State football or the Eagles tuned on his earphones. He says that leaf clean-up gets him into shape for the shoveling and plowing soon to follow. So with all this work, how does he have the time to pull draughts behind the bar at the corner tavern?
"Oh, I like serving the customers out here with the games on the televisions. And the tips are decent. Usually they have me in the back cooking or dishwashing. But that's okay, too. When I'm working I'm happier than Donald Trump. And my casinos ain't in foreclosure, neither," Jack says with a chuckle. "Tomorrow morning 7:30 a.m. sharp I got a gig helping a law firm move its office up the block. A few hundred file boxes I'm told. A two-and-a-half day job at least, and maybe a nice lunch thrown in if they're not too cheap. Saturday morning, get this. I'm unloading two trucks of kitty litter at a homeless shelter for cats. I never knew such a thing existed until they called me with the offer. They must have seen my fancy business card pinned to the bulletin board at the Acme. You know, 3-by-5 with 'Jack of All Trades' written in black ink and my cell phone number."
"Heck! How many payrolls are you on?" a patron asks.
Jack looks him over and shakes his head from side to side. "Nada."
"You're off the books everywhere?"
"You're kidding me, right? In here I fill in when the owner's wife wants to babysit the grandchildren. I'm on the truck when none of the regulars wants the overtime. And I deliver the pizzas because they can't find a local high school kid reliable enough show up three days in a row. Mom and pop businesses can't afford to hire permanent employees, but they need the work done when they need it. And when they don't, they don't. But if your name is out there enough, you get called. Do an honest job and you get called back. Pretty soon you're seeing real money. You know…$7.25 per hour is not much, which is why they call it minimum wage. But take it from on top up here and put it down there and it becomes $10 an hour, or so I'm told. Now, if I had a lobbyist in Washington getting me a tax loophole, great! Unfortunately, I do not."
Jack walks to the far end of the bar to set up another patron, turning his head to talk while he pours.
"I got laid off from construction a few years back when the housing market tanked. I found work in New Orleans after the hurricane because they sent federal money down there. I would go back to the building trades in a minute if they called me. But in the meantime I have a bank savings account that's paying me 1% interest. That's a laugh with inflation running at near 4%. And with unemployment at 9.7% you know that there's competition for what I do. I mean, I've seen guys showing up on landscaping jobs and working for free on the chance that the foreman will take them on. Sometimes they're just asked to leave. And then they wait at the end of the block standing there on the hope that they'll get waved over. I haven't had to do that yet."
"What the heck are you wearing on your feet, Jack?"
"Cowboy boots, man! Brand new. I'm breaking them in. Me and the wife are taking up country dancing. You got to live a little, too. Right?"
"You know, did you ever think that the employers are taking advantage of you? Plus, if everybody had to hire regular workers, there would be more and better-paying jobs."
"I believe that," said Jack. "But you're talking about the big picture. I'm all about finding work. When you show up and they don't want to know your last name, and they tell you you're just 'filling in', you get the idea what the deal is. Hey! If anybody wants to hire me and put me on the payroll, I'm all for it. Hustling and scrambling gets old, especially at my age. And I could use a few sick days and dare-I-say health benefits. But that's not happening out here in this economy. Now $10.00 per hour multiplied by ten hours a day for a work week, which is all seven days for me when I can get it, buys the premium roast."
"Jack-"
"Don't give me that look! Do you think the jobs I do would exist if it wasn't for me? I cut myself in only because it's cheaper for them to pay me like they do, in cash, with a nod and a wink. And once I get called back to construction, I'll be legit again and make it all up and more."
"What about if you get injured on job? Where's your workers' compensation if you slip on a sliced lime or trip over a cocktail parasol and knock your back out? What then? No work. No money. No country dancing, either."
"Yeah, well, right out of high school I got two free tours in the Far East where the lead content in the air was mighty high. But I survived that. You've got to be careful, that's all."
The U. S. Government Accountability Office (GAO) estimates that the individual income tax gap, between what is owned and what is paid, is in the hundreds of billions of dollars. The common theme of these studies is that there has been, for those taxpayers with the ability to determine their own reported income, an increasing underreporting of earnings.
*
Thomas Sottile is an attorney in Media, PA. He retired from the U.S. Postal Inspection Service after 23 years as an investigator and attorney.
