Affordable Care Act: part-time employee kinks

Every citizen has access to quality health care—What a beautiful idea! Regardless of someone's income or situation, they have the same ability to receive quality health care.

I don't think anyone with half a heart would argue that people should NOT be allowed health care because of economic status. We're all on the same page as far as theoretical and moral benefits. 

We all agree it's a good idea in theory.

There are some really great advantages to this act:

Just a few include the fact that it Ends pre-existing condition exclusions. Huzzah! Everyone's happy about that, right?

And it Keeps young adults covered. I can stay on my parent's plan until I'm 26. That gives lots of young adults, like myself, the chance to get on their feet career-wise before having to pay for insurance.

It also Cuts costs for a lot of people who may otherwise not be able to afford health insurance (at least theoretically). 

And it Ensures that employers provide health benefits for their employees. 

There are so many controversial elements to this law that both positively and negatively affect many people, but in the employer clause is
Where I personally have seen the most direct effects and disadvantages:

In trying to implement this nice idea that every employee is covered, the employers are having a hard time finding the money to do so. Because they don't have to provide coverage for part-time employees, they are taking extra precautions to make sure part-time employees don’t work anywhere close to the full-time limit. So as a student employee on my campus, I can only work a MAXIMUM of 20 hours a week. I could have 3 different jobs, but combined I cannot work past 20 hours, or I will be fired from all three.

I’m not asking the university to cover my insurance. Quite frankly, I don’t really care right now if I have any (nor do most of my contemporaries), but I do care about my income—especially working only part-time—and the annoyance it is to be so restricted in my ability to work.

I’ve noticed many part-time faculty members are experiencing similar frustrations. They cannot even be in the building, working “off the clock,” or volunteering in any capacity on campus past X amount of hours a week. There’s another clause in the Affordable Care Act that says to go from full-time to part-time position, you must have a period of retirement. One of the head dance directors at my school had to cast and direct a show months in advance so that she could (begrudgingly) take the allotted time “in retirement.”

While the Affordable Care Act is a truly wonderful idea, I think the specificity of restrictions in practice has created some unforeseen disadvantages and unintentional, annoying consequences that should probably be addressed (if only to improve the current low approval rating of the act)

There’s a comprehensive plan that’ll be rolled out over four years, so maybe they’ll have ironed out some of these kinks by then…!

• If you are interested in reading the whole law click HERE

Ticket Booth Boy, or teebeesquared

There is this boy, Ticket Booth Boy. We shall refer to him as TBB.
Nay, teebeesquared.

Every girl in the theater/music department knew this boy. Whenever they lined up to buy tickets, they made sure to line up in front of his window for the chance to spend 4 glorious minutes with this darling cute boy.

About a year ago, I bought a ticket for a classical choir concert from this young man at the booth.

He asked, "just one? you're not bringing a date?"
"Nope." smile charmingly, "It's just me."
chit chat. he mentions he did choir in high school.
Me: "So are you going to go to the concert?"
Teebeesquared: "Well, I'm tempted to buy a seat next to yours"

Man, what a line. is he smooth or what?

"But unfortunately, I can't make it to the show tomorrow night"
"oh bummer." truly. "next time"

The following evening, imagine my surprise when I looked up from my program and he was shuffling down my row to come sit next to me!

How completely, adorably romantic. My face flushed with excitement at his sweet gesture--he had actually bought the ticket next to mine!

In the next few minutes before the concert began, we proceeded to discover that we had pretty much nothing in common, and couldn't fill up the space of ten minutes with remotely interesting conversation.


For the next few weeks I gawked and gossiped and giddily told my girlfriends what had happened, and they cooed with jealously, as was expected when I strategically left the gloriously awkward ending out of the retelling.

Every once in a while I'll still see him at the booth. I've done a pretty good job of avoiding his booth when purchasing tickets. Here and there, we'll share a head nod. The other day, he even said my name--correctly too! I wonder if he remembers where he learned it.

Serious Sleuthing

Yesterday, I was either the creepiest stalker in the universe, or a most brilliant detective. I'm going to go with the latter.

A very good friend of mine from high school--really a BEST friend--had been out on a mission. I haven't really seen him or talked to him since our freshman year, three years ago. 

A while ago, I thought, "Hmm... I should write Ben"(for the sake of this post, he shall be referred to as Benjamin, Ben, Benny, Benji, or any combination of the four).

I tried to find his address on facebook, but he no longer had one. I would have called his mother to get his address, but I didn't know how to reach his mom, but through his facebook. (I realize how pathetic this would sound to the generation before me... people do exist outside of fb, I just didn't know where). 

So then two nights ago, "Benny Boy Bingley" popped up on my "suggested friends" tab.

He's alive! 

I tried to call the number I had in my phone from years ago, but it'd been disconnected.

I sent him a message, "HEY! Is this you, Benji?! How was your mission?! Why didn't you call me?!"

No response. Granted, that might have been annoying, and I only waited until the next morning to see if he had responded, But now I was worried. Maybe he really didn't want to talk to me...? 

So I did what my generation does best: I creeped. 

I would rather deem it daring detective work. He was once my very best friend, I couldn't let him disappear! 

His new facebook had him attending a small school in some random state, but it had a link. I asked a classmate if there was a time difference in Nevada from Utah, no one knew. In the 4 minutes I had before my class started, I called the school. The front dest receptionist knew Benjamin Bingley personally, and assured me that he would know of my trying to get in touch with him in the next couple of minutes. The receptionist asked for my name and number. 

What if he Ben really didn't want to talk to me? Maybe he wanted a completely fresh start or something. If he knew it was me calling, maybe he wouldn't call me back...

"Here's the number. Just tell him it's an old friend, trying to reach him."

"Can I give him your name?"

"...um...nope..."

"Ok...?"

Fifteen minutes later, I get a call from an unknown number. Whoever called left a voicemail, so I was squirming in my classroom until the bell rang and I could check the message. It was 4-seconds of silence, then he hung up. I'm thinking, he must have heard me saying, "you've reached Averill's cell" then realized who was trying to get in contact with him, and hung up! 

"To return the message sender's call, press 8"

8.

It was a 303 number. As in colorado... (which is where we are both from you see). I was getting close on the trail! But the recorded voice message system I had reached was NOT my Benny's voice. He must have used someone else's phone to call back. wow. he really doesn't want to be found... I left a message saying I'm just trying to get ahold of Ben Bingley, and if he could tell him that I just really care about him, and want to find out how he is doing.

I might have googled the phone number...that didn't get me anywhere.

I got a text from that number saying: "I'm sorry I called the wrong number by mistake. I do not know a person with the name you described. Take care." Man, he really doesn't want me to keep this up...

Now a normal person at this point may have given up. But here's proof I'm not normal. I went back to his facebook and found a link to a website, which turned out to be a small business he's now running. There was a "contact" tab, and finally: a PHONE NUMBER! huzzah! He was going to have to talk to me, I would find a way. No best friend of mine is going to drop off the face of the earth without telling me!

I called him 2x, and left a long voice mail about how if he didn't want to be found, he shouldn't put his personal phone number on his public business website... etc. etc. :)

I got a text saying, "Hey! I'm in class. Can I call you back in 13 minutes?"

HOORAY!  We were very happy to hear from each other, though Benji was really confused why I didn't give the school my name... 

Turns out he got back and just started living life. All is well. Also, turns out that other 303 number really did just misdial. 

I hope he felt loved and not stalked. 

The moral of the story: you can rest easily my dear friends. Because if you are missing, I will find you!

Ukelele heartbreak

Over the break, my parents wanted to get me a ukelele for Christmas.  I went to pick it out. A very nice gentleman behind the counter helped me find the perfect one. For the sake of this blog, (because with my luck, someone probably knows him) and to protect the innocent, we shall call him Cal Griffin. He was gorgeous. Tall, thin, thick brown hair. Cute scruffy beard. We talked and flirted for probably an hour ish. On and off, because he had to help other costumers. I fantasized that he didn't want to leave my side, of course, but he was on the clock. What a responsible, honest, hard-working young man! ahhh. 

Did I mention he was gorgeous? 

 He was an English major. Musician. Budding novelist. Just working at this store until he became a successful author. I'll bet his writing would melt my heart. 

My dad joined us later to actually purchase the ukelele Cal helped me pick out. Cal made a point to tell us that if there's any problem with the insurance, or anything at all, to give him a call. He said that twice. And my dad liked Cal as much as I did. In the car, he said, "Why don't you call the store, and ask Cal to come to our ward Christmas party!"

So... I did. 

This is the conversation I had: 

"Guitar store. how can I help you?"

"Um..."I panicked. What if I was talking to him?! "Um.. To whom am I speaking?"

"Joe Bresh"

"Hey, Joe.  Do you know Cal Griffin?"

"Ya! Of course. He works in the north desk" 

"Ok, so don't laugh... but do you know if he's dating anyone?"

*Laugh*

"You weren't supposed to laugh!"

"I'm sorry. Cal's a cutie. I don't blame you!"

"Ok... so...?"

"Um... lemme find out!"

"Wait!..." Before I knew it I was on hold. 

"So... I've got some bad news..."

"Aw man. He's dating someone."

"Ya. sorry."

"Well at least he doesn't know who I am right? No harm done."

"Were you the girl in the grey dress?"

I was. 

"Maybe..."

"Ya, he knew who you were. He thought you might call."

"Oh man! that's embarrassing!"

"No! It's flattering to a guy! You're a cute girl."

"Aw thanks. Wait... did we meet...?"

"Ya... you walked into the keyboard section. You asked me where the books were."

"Oh."

I definitely didn't remember anyone besides Cal. 

"But hey, I'm no Cal, but if you're looking for someone to take out, I'm not dating anyone!"

oh dear. 

"Ha ha ha. Merry Christmas!"

inner-10-year-old girl

I had the pleasure of spending the day with my old friend, Whitney.

We giggled about boys. We told stories of stupidity, rumored and of our own.  We walked around trying on clothing WAY out of our price range, and inadvertently added Whitney to a special club in a very high-end clothing store.

We bought a cake pop at Starbucks, just so we could use the bathroom. Guess who ended up eating the cake pop... who knew that Whitney doesn't like cake?!
...

new famous friend :)

Right after finals, I sat next to a very nice man on a plane from Salt Lake to Denver.

As is my custom, I asked, “Are you leaving home or going home?”

“Neither”

“What were you doing in Salt Lake?/why are you going to Denver?”

You know, normal airplane chit-chat.

“I was here for a concert”

“Oh! The Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert?!” I knew several friends who went; that’s the world I live in.

“The what…?” he responded.

 I might have guessed that this bling and chain-clad fellow didn't fly in to Temple Square to hear the Mo-Tab.

“Um… never mind”

“No, I was in a concert.”

“Oh! Cool! What’s your name? Would I have heard of you?”

“You might have. My name’s Sloan Bone. The band’s name is ‘Bone Thugs and Harmony’”

I may be the last person in the world who would have heard of them. To fully appreciate the reality of this scene, I have to give you a background of my musical history and knowledge.

I grew up in show choirs, singing Broadway oldies and pop songs from the 60s; step-touching and snapping to the beats, in bright, cheesy, and often pleather costumes, and we would perform in places like amusement parks and retirement homes.

In high school with my Concert Choir, I sang Schubert’s Mass in G, and a very complicated choral arrangement of, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” I was in the Colorado All-State choir, where we sang a Debussy piece, "Nuit d'Etoiles"in the Denver Capital Building.

 My high school musicals consisted of dancing to "Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, MO,"



being the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella,





and directing a musical about women pioneers.

Right now, I am a member of the BYU Women’s Chorus, where we buzz and trill our way through warm ups, so we can sing Sanctus after Sanctus, and some Beatles’ songs...with ukuleles.

The worst part of this all is that it's true.

one should look before one enters a car

about three weeks ago, I had a date call and say he'd pick me up on the curb. For the record, he's a perfect gentleman, and would have come to the door, but we were a little bit late, and it was cold outside, and trying to find parking in my neighborhood is like finding Rudolf on the Fourth of July.

So I ran out, scarf in hand, still putting one arm through the hole of my jacket. I rushed to the white car pulled up by the curb of my apartment complex and jumped in.  As I was organizing myself in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt, I shouted, "HEY! How's it going?" and looked over at the driver.

then promptly said to the confused expression staring back at me:

"Youuuu areeeee not my date."

The nice man laughed, and said, "nope"

"I hope you have a lovely evening. I'll get out of your car now"

When I saw my actual date pulling up right behind. So I popped into his car (which was kind of white, for the record). I asked him if this was the same car he picked me up in last time, and he said no; he was borrowing his roommates.
"ok. cool."

That is a story in itself. However, the story continues.

So last week I was walking around Salt Lake with a blind date, looking at the lights in temple square. A nice man, (Scott I found out later), shouted from across a few people to my date. They knew each other from school, and so he stopped to chat for a moment on the sidewalk. After they discussed some group project, he turned to make small talk with me.
He asked me how I knew my date
"My brother's in your program as well"
he asked me where I lived
"Just south of that restaurant"
"oh? In those apartments?"
"yup!"
"Funny story about that apartment complex..."
I look at my date, and the other couple with us, everyone intent on hearing the funny story.
"I once was parked outside, just on the curb waiting to pick up some friends. And this random girl gets in my car."
At this point I start to giggle. Thinking, what are the chances that another girl got in his car, and that it wasn't me...? He continued,
"She said, 'Hey! how's it going?!" man, he even repeated my inflection pretty convincingly, "then she said, 'Oh you're not my date!' then she gets out!"
so now, I've totally lost it. My giggles are coming out in sobs...
"Do you know who it was?!" he asked
I was thinking I could probably pin this on an invisible roommate, or some crazy friend. but the truth of the matter was just too funny.

"That was me!" I said through hefty laughter.

He said he tweeted about it. #that awkward moment when some girl gets into your car, and realizes you're not her date.

I would have laughed at the tweet.

My friend in the other couple standing beside us, witnessing the whole thing said sincerely, "I'm not even surprised that was you."

honestly, neither am I.