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daddy-dins-girl · 1 year

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Kinktober 2023 Pt. 1 - Dave York (Somnophilia, Frottage, Virginity)

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Summary: It's Dave's birthday, and you have a present for him. Then again, maybe it's more for you.

This fic covers days 2 and 7 of @absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 challenge.

Dave York x Virgin!Reader (babysitter)

Word Count: 4.2k

Notes: Me: Ok, I can do this, I can write some smutty little kinktober drabble, no problem! Also me: Writes 2500 words of backstory and character development before a stitch of clothing even comes off.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Explicit smut. Cheating, infidelity (it's the York's y'all, come on, is it even Dave York fanfic if one or both of them aren't banging somebody else?). Age gap (Reader is 21, Dave is in his 40's). Virgin (but not inexperienced) Reader. Consensual Somnophilia. "Just the tip" (but like actually tho). Frottage. Vaginal and clitoral stimulation (aka pussy rubbing). Accidental creampie (whoops). Drug use, kind of? (just over the counter sleep aids). Dave York is his own warning. Uh.. if I've forgotten anything, lmk. I think I've given away half the story already in the tags! At least you know what you're in for ;)

There was an excitement thrumming through your veins as you sat in the living room waiting for the York’s to get home, not really paying any attention to what was playing on the TV because your mind was elsewhere.

The two children you were caring for, Molly and Alice, have long since been tucked into their beds and asleep and now you were just waiting for their parents to get home. They typically weren’t gone for more than a few hours. It didn’t need to be said that that was more than they could stand of each other if their children weren’t there to serve as buffers, that much was obvious to just about anyone who spent enough time around Carol and Dave. Apparently however just not to their friends who they had to go out with and appease, pretending their marriage was still perfect. That’s where the York’s found themselves this Saturday night, out with friends celebrating Dave’s birthday that was coming up in a few days.

It was a good job for you though, Mr. York always paid you handsomely. Anytime you’d come over to babysit he’d leave the same amount of money in an envelope on the kitchen counter for you. A fifty dollar bill for you to order food for yourself and the two girls (which was way more than enough, even with the delivery charges and tip, to cover anything the three of you could eat) and a crisp hundred for yourself for your services which you thought was way too high, considering they were never gone more than 2-3 hours. The first couple times you’d tried to give him the change from dinner but he’d shoved the twenty back into your own palm and told you to keep it so now you’ve stopped trying to argue and typically walk away with at least $120.00 a night, which was pretty good for a 3 hour gig for a 21 year old who lives at home while attending school. You didn’t know what Dave York did for a living - something in government, you think - but apparently whatever it was it paid extremely well.

The hard rain coming down outside was hitting the large windows of the York’s extravagant home in sheets and truth be told you were more than glad that there was practically a hurricane going on outside. It actually fit into your plans perfectly so you just watched the storm rage on outside from your comfortable seat on the sofa, a small smile on your face while you waited for your employers to get home.

Within minutes you heard the loud hum of the garage door opening up signaling the York’s arrival and you clicked off the TV, pretending to be interested in something on your phone and acting casually as a minute later you heard the door connecting the house to the garage open and Carol and Dave spilled inside.

“Oh my God it’s madness out there” Carol practically shrieked and Dave immediately shushed her loudly, reminding her of their sleeping children and Carol put a hand over her mouth but laughed uncontrollably still.

Yep, she was wasted, as usual.

“Oh hi, Mr. and Mrs. York” you greet them sweetly, standing up from the couch and coming over to the hallway leading to the entryway where they were taking off their soaked jackets, likely from their walk from whatever restaurant they had been at to their car.

“Oh hi sweetie. How were the girls?” Carol managed to ask, you’re not sure how she got the words out, given the way Dave was literally having to hold her up by her elbow just so she could kick her shoes off.

“Oh they were great, as always” you promise. And they were, Molly and Alice were rarely any trouble. This was by far the easiest babysitting gig you’d ever had.

“Pay the girl David, I need to go to bed” Carol groaned, leaning into her husband’s shoulder for support. Dave rolled his eyes. First of all, he had already paid you at the beginning of the night, like he always had and you’d think his wife would know that by now, and secondly he absolutely did not like how she was all but dismissing you without even thanking you or saying more than five words to you.

“Um, Mr. and Mrs. York,” you cut in, before Dave has a chance to say anything. “I was thinking, you know, the rain is coming down really bad and I don’t really like driving late at night as it is, I thought maybe I could stay over?” You asked politely. You’ve done it numerous times on occasions that they were sure they’d be home late, they had offered you their spare room in the basement so you could go to sleep once the girls were in bed if you had wanted to. Most times when you stayed over it was because you were already asleep when they’d gotten home, but on a couple occasions you’d stayed over even when you were still awake when they got in just because of how late it was.

“Sure, whatever sweetie” Carol waved a flippant hand at you.

“Of course you can” Dave finally spoke, his voice louder and firmer than Carol’s. Dave rarely came home with more than a drink or two under his belt because he typically drove. You also got the feeling that he knew he had to have all his wits about him when out with his wife so he could be a glorified babysitter himself.

“Thank you, Mr. York” you said his name sweetly, a coy smile playing on your lips that went unnoticed by Carol but intentionally noticed by Dave.

You left Dave to wrangle Carol up to bed and made your way down to the basement, getting ready for bed and then pulled your phone out to type out a quick text to the man of the house before you tried to get some sleep.

Cum see me l8r. Got a present for you to unwrap😉. You know the rules. xxx

You took a breath. You were excited and yet nervous, never having done anything like this, specifically, before. You reach over to the night stand and pick up the small white tablet, pop it into your mouth and wash it down with some water before you lay down on the bed and wait (im)patiently for sleep to take over.

Dave’s phone pings in his pocket once he’s finally gotten Carol into bed. She was tugging at his tie and belt and trying to drag him into the bed with her, mumbling something incoherently about a “birthday blowjob” and he could do little but roll his eyes. He was in no mood to have his completely drunken wife undoubtedly fall asleep on him with his cock half way down her throat. Besides the fact that he knows exactly where her mouth has been the last eight months or so which had been the final nail in the coffin that was once their active sex life.

So instead he leaves her there and heads off into the ensuite to shower, pulling out his phone to check his text from you along the way and smirking to himself when he reads it. He doesn’t reply. He rarely does. Sometimes it’s a power move. He likes you to squirm, wondering if he’s read it, what he’s thinking, if he’s as insatiable in his desire for you as you are for him. Mostly he doesn’t reply though because he doesn’t like paper trails. Not that he thinks you would, but the last thing he needs is you screenshotting your conversations with him and sharing them around with your friends or something.

Dave brushes his teeth, gets into the shower, then heads down to the kitchen to relax for a bit, sipping a beer and catching some highlights on SportsCenter. He doesn’t want to seem too eager and part of him likes to keep you waiting. Finally after a couple of hours have passed since he received your text he clicks off the TV and goes in search of you.

He moves through the basement rec room and to the closed bedroom door, pulling the small key out of the pocket of his sweatpants and using it to let himself inside, ensuring to lock it behind him. He’s the only one with a key to unlock the door from the outside so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting anything.

He makes his way over to the bed where you’re lying on your back. There’s a bedside lamp that’s turned on to its highest setting so he has no trouble making anything out in the room, he assumes it's intentional.

“Naughty girl” Dave mutters to himself when he sees what’s waiting for him. You’re lying there perfectly asleep on top of the bedclothes wearing nothing but a tiny camisole and simple yellow cotton panties with a small pair of red cherries right in the center like a goddamn bullseye and a tiny little tied red bow at the top.

Got a present for you to unwrap. Your words ring in his head and he’s half hard already just from looking at you.

He assesses the rest of the room and his eyebrow raises when he sees what’s on the bedside table, a tiny blue box with the logo “Sleep-Eze” on it and a half drank glass of water.

“Jesus Christ” Dave huffs out a breath, pushing a hand through his hair.

You had a conversation recently one night when you were lying in bed together the last time you had stayed over at his house and he came to see you (as he always had). You had confessed that a fantasy of yours was to wake up to having an orgasm. Dave was hesitant at first, for multiple reasons. One he didn’t like the idea of getting off on someone who was effectively unconscious, and two he argued that you’d wake up way too easily if he was doing his job well enough.

You told him you’d figure out a way to help with the second problem which, Dave presumed, was the reason for the sleeping tablet. And as for the first, you told him if he really wasn’t comfortable he didn’t have to, it was just something you had always wanted to try but had never trusted anyone else to do it.

And you did, trust him. The last line of your text, ‘you know the rules’, he did know the rules. Well, rule. It was really just one when it came to you.

No penetration.

At least, not with his cock. You weren’t a total prude or anything but you were a virgin (hence the cherry panties he supposed… cute little vixen). You grew up in a very religious household and although you didn’t quite believe in waiting until marriage like your parents had taught you to, you did want to wait until it could be with someone you loved and that just hadn’t happened to you yet. Still, despite this, you were sexually active in plenty of other ways that certainly seemed to keep Dave satisfied enough. For now anyway. You worried he might get bored of you but it hadn’t happened yet and it’s been nearly six months. Despite his aggressive and controlling behavior in bed he always respected your one rule and didn’t pressure you to cross it with him. He probably knew that before long you’d be begging him for it anyway and he was probably right. Your resilience was waning a lot. And it wasn’t just the sexual desire, though that was obviously a huge part of it, but you felt a connection to Dave you had yet to find with anyone else you dated, especially boys your own age who were exactly that - boys.

Dave was sweet to you when you least expected it. When you’d aced your midterm paper that you had spent weeks agonizing over, a dozen roses showed up at your parents doorstep the next day with a card nestled inside with a single phrase written on it. “So proud of you. D.”

When you had briefly mentioned one night that you desperately wanted tickets to the Taylor Swift concert but weren’t willing to fork over your entire college fund to get them, the next time you had come over to babysit in addition to the usual $150.00 in the envelope on the counter there was a pair of tickets to the Eras Tour Boston show with a small note stuck to it in Dave’s familiar scratchy handwriting “take one of your girlfriends, and have fun sweetheart”. You idly wonder who he had to kill to get them.

Then there was the day your brother had been shipped off to his first tour of Active Duty and you couldn’t be emotional about it in front of your parents because you had to “be strong for your brother” (their words). You had texted Dave when you finally couldn’t be in that house another minute pretending your whole world hadn’t just changed and he had picked you up from the corner of your street, driven to a secluded parking lot and pulled you into the back seat with him where he just held you for hours while you cried in his arms. You told him stories of your childhoods growing up, how close you’d been and how he was your best friend and whole world; your port in the storm against your strict parents and the only person who truly understood you. Dave sat there calmly, listening to every word, brushing a comforting hand through your hair or occasionally pressing his lips to your temple when another wave of tears hit you. He promised you that you never had to be brave or strong in front of him if you didn’t want to be, he would be there to hold you up. Be your strength when you had none left to give.

And when you had told Dave about a guy that had gotten a little too “handsy” with you at a Frat party - despite you repeatedly asking him to leave you alone - well, come to think of it, you’d actually never seen Thomas again after that night. You safely assume Dave had something to do with it though.

So yes, Dave was much more than just a warm body to you, and you for him, you presumed, and there was no one else you trusted with your body like you trusted Dave.

“Fuck” Dave muttered, hand coming down involuntarily to palm over the bulge growing beneath the elastic waistband of his sleep pants. You looked goddamn adorable when you were sleeping, Dave noticed immediately. Little mouth half open, head rolled to the side with your hair spilling over the pillows, and the rise and fall of your chest putting your perfect round tits on display for him under the threadbare top.

Apparently getting over the first hurdle was going to be easier than Dave thought.

He pulled his sweats down and kicked them off, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs and t-shirt and crawled onto the bed on his knees until he was between your legs, sitting back on his heels. He began by experimentally running his left hand down your leg all the way to your calf and then back up to your thigh, waiting to see if you’d stir at all and - nothing. Your breathing never faltered, body never twitched, and satisfied, Dave moved on to what he knew you were waiting for.

He started slowly, gently. He brought his hand to rest on your hip and his thumb reached down to stroke you over top of your underwear, pushing all the way down into your slit and back up and repeating the motion over and over again for a minute or so until he began to feel the unmistakable wetness begin to pool behind the thin cotton barrier.

“Good girl” Dave hummed to himself, then brought two fingers down on top of where your clit would be and began rubbing tight circles around it. Your hips jerked slightly and he stopped immediately like a deer caught in headlights, eyes shooting up to yours only to find you still fast asleep and he let out a relieved breath. It was just your body reacting to his touch but thankfully he hadn’t woken you. He knew what you wanted and he wanted to give it to you and he knew he had a long way to go before he brought you to a peak so it was far too soon to have you waking up already.

“That’s it baby” Dave praised when a little whimper left your lips but you simply snuggled further into your pillow. “Back to sleep”

After another couple minutes of soft caresses of his fingers he took his hands away momentarily to grab for one of the decorative pillows that had been tossed carelessly aside and he carefully lifted your hips to settle it underneath you, raising you slightly for him so he wouldn’t throw his back out leaning over you for what he wanted to do next - for what he knew you were waiting for him to do.

Once he’s got you in the position he wants he hastily tugs down his boxers, shuffles closer towards you on his knees and groans when he takes his own length in his hand. He’s painfully hard already and his head is weeping precum and he hisses through his teeth when he loosely grips his cock and starts pumping his hips, effectively fucking his own hand while the head of dick pushes into your still clothed sex.

“Oh fuck,” he groans. The combination of your own wetness and his leaking tip have caused a giant wet spot on your panties, leaving them basically transparent as he continues dragging his cock through your folds over your underwear.

This had quickly become your favorite thing to do with Dave, once he had tried it once, promising you he wouldn’t go inside but just wanting to be close to you. He’d rub your pussy with his cock until you came - which never took long - and you’d practically begged him to do it every time you were together since. It was near fucking torture for Dave, being so goddamn close to burying his cock deep inside you like he so desperately wanted to. He could do it. It would be so fucking easy. Especially right now. But he wouldn’t. If there was one thing Dave had in spades, it was self control.

Dave checks in with you again, makes sure you’re still asleep and you are, though your face is a little scrunched up now, not as peaceful looking. It looks like you’re dreaming and are a little unsure of what exactly is going on. He knows he probably doesn’t have a lot of time left to get you to cum before you wake up so he moves on to the final stage. He slips his dick under the soaked piece of cotton through the side and continues his little thrusts with his hands now resting on the insides of your thighs and not able to help the moan that escapes him when his dick finally makes contact with your naked cunt.

“Mmmmm” you hum sleepily, somewhere between completely dead to the world and barely awake.

Dave vaguely hears you beginning to stir, the sound of his cock pushing in and out of your sopping core filling his ears and causing his brain to nearly stop functioning with how fucking turned on he is. His tip brushes against your clit with every push of his cock and he has to close his eyes and focus on his breathing so he doesn’t come before you do.

“Ohhhhhh” you whine breathily, being dragged a little closer to consciousness.

It’s the softest fucking sound he’s ever heard and he nearly comes at the sound of your desperate, meek little whimper.

“Oh fuck, Baby, wake up” Dave groans, slightly picking up the pace that his cock slides in and out of your folds.

“Dave?” you mutter, confused as your eyes try desperately to blink open. “Oh. Oh fuck, Oh Dave!” It hits you like a fucking brick wall. You're suddenly completely alert as the pleasure centers in your brain finally start firing on all cylinders again and you’re painfully aware of how incredibly turned on you are. Not to mention how close you are.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck” Dave is close to losing it himself from above you. His hand leaves your thigh to yank your panties to the side and then he grabs his dick with the other to control his movements. He watches his cock rub up and down through your swollen lips and push into your clit, repeating the pattern over and over and over and soon enough you're rocking your hips in rhythm with him.

“Oh my God, Dave. Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cry out. He feels fucking incredible and you’re desperately close to coming, you can feel it flooding your lower abdomen, the dam about to burst. You push up on your elbows, you want to watch as Dave’s cock slides through you.

“Fuck, wish I could be inside you” Dave groans. He knows it's not fair of him to say it when you’re both so worked up like this but he’s never wanted it more than in this moment.

“Yesssss, fuck, me too Dave. Wanna come on your big fat cock baby” you mewl desperately, clutching at the sheets.

“Fuck baby don’t say shit like that” Dave scolds. It was one thing to playfully tease, but saying that to him knowing full well he couldn’t do anything about it was downright cruel.

“Baby, fuck, I’m serious” you whine. “Wanna feel you inside me, just a little bit, please baby? Just the tip? I need it”

“Oh fuck” Dave literally growls like you’ve never heard before and then he pushes inside you for the first time, just the head, like you asked, and you instantly fall apart. Your walls squeeze around his tip like an unrelenting vice grip and your juices flood his cock and seconds later you feel his own hot spend painting your walls as he shudders over you and grips your hips so tightly you know they’ll be bruised tomorrow.

“Oh shit, oh shit shit shit!” Dave curses at his own stupidity and lack of control but can do little about it as he continues to spurt rope after rope of his cum inside you.

“Oh my god, Dave” you sigh dreamily, falling back onto the bed and not only unbothered, but blissfully pleased at Dave’s little indiscretion. You’ll take a Plan B in the morning, you’re far from worried about it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” Dave pants breathlessly as he finally pulls his spent cock out of you and runs his hands through his hair and then rubs them over his face and groans.

“Baby, come here” you insist, reaching up to pull him down on top of you and you’re surprised at how easily he allows it to happen.

“Hey, it’s ok” you assure him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and petting a hand through his hair.

“I shouldn’t have-” he begins to protest as he pushes himself up on his elbows, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I wanted you to. Baby that was…” you trail off, literally unable to put into words how good he made you feel and so you opt instead to pull his head back gently and kiss him passionately. After a few seconds of trying to resist you, Dave succumbs to the kiss and opens his mouth to you, tongue pushing inside and melding with yours.

You pull apart only when the need for oxygen overwhelms you both and Dave rests his forehead on yours, gently shaking his head.

“You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?” He says sincerely and a blush rises in your cheeks.

“You’re not so bad yourself” you tease.

“I just had my dick inside you” Dave states like he’s reading the morning headlines.

“I remember, I was there” you giggle and he huffs a laugh in return.

“Are you um… ok?” He asks sincerely, bringing a hand up so his finger can lightly trace your jawline, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret.

“More than ok” you promise, raising your head slightly to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“You sure? You don’t hate me?” He asks and you can barely believe your ears, maybe you were still high from the sleeping pill.

“Hate you? Baby you literally just made my wildest fantasy come true”

“Really?” Dave asks, eyebrow raised. “It was uh… what you wanted?”

“It was everything I wanted and more” you promise.

“Come here” you murmur, pulling him down to kiss you again.

You kiss unhurriedly for several minutes, just reveling in the taste of each other and the closeness you feel to one another.

“Happy birthday Baby” you hum against his lips when you finally break the kiss and Dave lowers himself from his elbows to wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace.

“Best birthday ever Sweetness” he murmurs into your throat.

Tagging @nerdieforpedro, @chronically-ghosted @macabremads

#dave york fanfiction #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york x you #kinktober 2023 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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raven · 8 months

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i feel like the tipping culture in my country might be different than in yours so i have a question (in good faith, i hope it comes across this way): why does tipping seem to be “reserved” only for waiters? why isn’t tipping for example cashiers a thing?

yeah im not super in the know on why tippong originated but heres my perspective as someone whos worked counter service cashier jobs and food retail and as a server

tipping is not reserved for waiters it's for people in the food industry, including cashiers, baristas, delivery drivers, etc (& support staff at restaurants get tipped out too) as well as for people giving services like hair dressers, masseuses, tattoo artists, taxi drivers, etc. like many people (stupid) wont tip cashiers and many places (fast food) wont let you tip their cashiers (they do get paid regular minimum wage though, while server minimum wage is 2.35 but it's weird to me to not allow tips). I always tip on to go orders bc the workers are doing the same amount; my restaurant doesnt have to go orders really but my old one did and tips on to go went straight to the support staff. but basically, its just how it is. why not tip retail? thats just not how it is. I dont know. Sorry. I havent really worked retail (i worked food retail and didnt get tips, but people would sneak me cash since i was doing some barista stuff) but it's kind of just that you are less in control of a customer's experience, generally. Like if you get your bra size measured, would you tip the person who did it? Idk. I'll have to check this out when i get my size measured soon. Idk, i try to tip as much as possible lol. Cashier, barista, etc. i buy something for $5 leave a $5 tip because it feels bad to leave just a dollar or two... theres also a retail store that allows tips at checkout and idk what it really goes to but i tip every time, i guess i could ask. and there's other services you tip for like hairdressers or masseuses or tattoo artists or taxi drivers like i mentioned before. at least thats just how i and others do it. because these people spend time, even several hours with you helping you and are probably not paid enough is my guess. (definitely taxi drivers are not paid enough especially if its uber/lyft...) Do you tip car repair? I need to get my car repaired, I'll look into it...

For why servers are prioritized in conversation: The bottom line is that it has been ingrained into american culture down to LAW that servers get paid less because they get tips. love it or hate it, by not giving tips you are not showing you disagree with a system, you are just fucking over a worker. You still spent the money at my restaurant, it will stay open. Many servers are also against passing laws to invoke minimum wages to lessen tipping because they would be paid way less, and i cant blame them. Like, my restaurant cant afford to pay me $60/hr. I got paid $60/hr tonight. I felt like i was going to die, but i would feel the same way if i was getting paid minimum wage by my employer, and i would be getting 1/4 that amount. Like serving simply isnt really worth it as a job because of the toll it takes on your mind and body to deal with customers, stand on your feet all day, carry heavy plates, clean the restaurant, etc, if we are not getting lots of money. At least for me since im disabled and killing myself with this job lol. But i have no college education and i LOVE feeding people good food! (I've also worked counter service not fast food, complicated , we did a lot of takeout, i mostly cashiered, never got a ton of tips, it was definitely much easier than being a full server in a full service restaurant. you should still tip people there thoughh)

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sedoretu · 3 months

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https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2024/07/05/chevron-doctrine-overturned-regulations-vulnerable-supreme-court/

8 policies that could be vulnerable to new legal challenges [after Chevron]

The Supreme Court jettisoned longstanding precedent that helped the federal government make regulations. Now broad policies could be determined by judges.

“No policy is at greater risk than the administration’s student loan forgiveness efforts, which spend hundreds of billions of dollars without congressional authority,” said Michael Brickman, a fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and a former senior adviser in the Education Department under President Donald Trump. Republican attorneys general in 18 states have sued to stop the Saving on a Valuable Education program, which lowers monthly student loan payments and offers a shorter path to loan forgiveness. They argue that Congress never envisioned anything as expansive as the program in the law underpinning the regulation.

...

A new Biden administration regulation protecting transgender students and laying out how schools must respond to accusations of sexual assault and harassment was already being challenged, and the new ruling gives opponents further ammunition to stop it. The regulation is the administration’s interpretation of the half-century-old Title IX law, which bars discrimination on the basis of sex in federally funded K-12 schools, colleges and universities. The administration, citing a 2020 Supreme Court ruling, included discrimination based on gender identity in its definition of sex discrimination, meaning schools might be required, for instance, to allow transgender students to use pronouns and bathrooms that align with their gender identity. The provision was celebrated by LGBTQ+ advocates and derided by conservatives.

...

The Supreme Court ruling almost immediately put a check on the Labor Department’s authority. Hours after the ruling came down Friday, a U.S. District Court judge in eastern Texas cited the decision in an order to block the federal overtime expansion from applying to Texas state employees. The rule went into effect Monday and makes millions more workers eligible for overtime pay nationwide. But labor and employment attorneys say the Texas judge’s decision signals that another court will probably block the rule.

... The Biden administration’s most consequential climate rule could be newly vulnerable: The Environmental Protection Agency’s plan to boost sales of electric vehicles while slashing emissions from gasoline-powered cars and trucks. Republican attorneys general from more than two dozen states had already sued the EPA over the Biden administration’s most consequential climate rule, a sweeping attempt to transform the U.S. auto market. The top trade association for the U.S. oil and gas industry, which could see demand for its products decline as consumers shift to EVs, has also challenged the regulations in the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit. Opponents say the agency has overstepped its authority.

#biden #supreme court #democrats

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nkadijp-blog · 4 months

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Text

It Can't Happen Here, Sinclair Lewis

Chapter 35-36

CHAPTER XXXV

IN his two years of dictatorship, Berzelius Windrip daily became more a miser of power. He continued to tell himself that his main ambition was to make all citizens healthy, in purse and mind, and that if he was brutal it was only toward fools and reactionaries who wanted the old clumsy systems. But after eighteen months of Presidency he was angry that Mexico and Canada and South America (obviously his own property, by manifest destiny) should curtly answer his curt diplomatic notes and show no helpfulness about becoming part of his inevitable empire.

And daily he wanted louder, more convincing Yeses from everybody about him. How could he carry on his heartbreaking labor if nobody ever encouraged him? he demanded. Anyone, from Sarason to inter-office messenger, who did not play valet to his ego he suspected of plotting against him. He constantly increased his bodyguard, and as constantly distrusted all his guards and discharged them, and once took a shot at a couple of them, so that in all the world he had no companion save his old aide Lee Sarason, and perhaps Hector Macgoblin, to whom he could talk easily.

He felt lonely in the hours when he wanted to shuck off the duties of despotism along with his shoes and his fine new coat. He no longer went out racketing. His cabinet begged him not to clown in barrooms and lodge entertainments; it was not dignified, and it was dangerous to be too near to strangers.

So he played poker with his bodyguard, late at night, and at such times drank too much, and he cursed them and glared with bulging eyes whenever he lost, which, for all the good-will of his guards about letting him win, had to be often, because he pinched their salaries badly and locked up the spoons. He had become as unbouncing and unbuzzing a Buzz as might be, and he did not know it.

All the while he loved the People just as much as he feared and detested Persons, and he planned to do something historic. Certainly! He would give each family that five thousand dollars a year just as soon now as he could arrange it.

And Lee Sarason, forever making his careful lists, as patient at his desk as he was pleasure-hungry on the couch at midnight parties, was beguiling officials to consider him their real lord and the master of Corpoism. He kept his promises to them, while Windrip always forgot. His office door became the door of ambition. In Washington, the reporters privily spoke of this assistant secretary and that general as "Sarason men." His clique was not a government within a government; it was the government itself, minus the megaphones. He had the Secretary of Corporations (a former vice-president of the American Federation of Labor) coming to him secretly every evening, to report on labor politics and in especial on such proletarian leaders as were dissatisfied with Windrip as Chief—i.e., with their own share in the swag. He had from the Secretary of the Treasury (though this functionary, one Webster Skittle, was not a lieutenant of Sarason but merely friendly) confidential reports on the affairs of those large employers who, since under Corpoism it was usually possible for a millionaire to persuade the judges in the labor-arbitration courts to look at things reasonably, rejoiced that with strikes outlawed and employers regarded as state officials, they would now be in secure power forever.

Sarason knew the quiet ways in which these reinforced industrial barons used arrests by the M.M.'s to get rid of "trouble-makers," particularly of Jewish radicals—a Jewish radical being a Jew with nobody working for him. (Some of the barons were themselves Jews; it is not to be expected that race-loyalty should be carried so insanely far as to weaken the pocketbook.)

The allegiance of all such Negroes as had the sense to be content with safety and good pay instead of ridiculous yearnings for personal integrity Sarason got by being photographed shaking hands with the celebrated Negro Fundamentalist clergyman, the Reverend Dr. Alexander Nibbs, and through the highly publicized Sarason Prizes for the Negroes with the largest families, the fastest time in floor-scrubbing, and the longest periods of work without taking a vacation.

"No danger of our good friends, the Negroes, turning Red when they're encouraged like that," Sarason announced to the newspapers.

It was a satisfaction to Sarason that in Germany, all military bands were now playing his national song, "Buzz and Buzz" along with the Horst Wessel hymn, for, though he had not exactly written the music as well as the words, the music was now being attributed to him abroad.

As a bank clerk might, quite rationally, worry equally over the whereabouts of a hundred million dollars' worth of the bank's bonds, and of ten cents of his own lunch money, so Buzz Windrip worried equally over the welfare—that is, the obedience to himself—of a hundred and thirty-odd million American citizens and the small matter of the moods of Lee Sarason, whose approval of him was the one real fame. (His wife Windrip did not see oftener than once a week, and anyway, what that rustic wench thought was unimportant.)

The diabolic Hector Macgoblin frightened him; Secretary of War Luthorne and Vice-President Perley Beecroft he liked well enough, but they bored him; they smacked too much of his own small-town boyhood, to escape which he was willing to take the responsibilities of a nation. It was the incalculable Lee Sarason on whom he depended, and the Lee with whom he had gone fishing and boozing and once, even, murdering, who had seemed his own self made more sure and articulate, had thoughts now which he could not penetrate. Lee's smile was a veil, not a revelation.

It was to discipline Lee, with the hope of bringing him back, that when Buzz replaced the amiable but clumsy Colonel Luthorne as Secretary of War by Colonel Dewey Haik, Commissioner of the Northeastern Province (Buzz's characteristic comment was that Luthorne was not "pulling his weight"), he also gave to Haik the position of High Marshal of the M.M.'s, which Lee had held along with a dozen other offices. From Lee he expected an explosion, then repentance and a new friendship. But Lee only said, "Very well, if you wish," and said it coldly.

Just how COULD he get Lee to be a good boy and come play with him again? wistfully wondered the man who now and then planned to be emperor of the world.

He gave Lee a thousand-dollar television set. Even more coldly did Lee thank him, and never spoke afterward of how well he might be receiving the still shaky television broadcasts on his beautiful new set.

As Dewey Haik took hold, doubling efficiency in both the regular army and the Minute Men (he was a demon for all-night practice marches in heavy order, and the files could not complain, because he set the example), Buzz began to wonder whether Haik might not be his new confidant.... He really would hate to throw Lee into prison, but still, Lee was so thoughtless about hurting his feelings, when he'd gone and done so much for him and all!

Buzz was confused. He was the more confused when Perley Beecroft came in and briefly said that he was sick of all this bloodshed and was going home to the farm, and as for his lofty Vice-Presidential office, Buzz knew what he could do with it.

Were these vast national dissensions no different from squabbles in his father's drugstore? fretted Buzz. He couldn't very well have Beecroft shot: it might cause criticism. But it was indecent, it was sacrilegious to annoy an emperor, and in his irritation he had an ex-Senator and twelve workmen who were in concentration camps taken out and shot on the charge that they had told irreverent stories about him.

Secretary of State Sarason was saying good-night to President Windrip in the hotel suite where Windrip really lived.

No newspaper had dared mention it, but Buzz was both bothered by the stateliness of the White House and frightened by the number of Reds and cranks and anti-Corpos who, with the most commendable patience and ingenuity, tried to sneak into that historic mansion and murder him. Buzz merely left his wife there, for show, and, except at great receptions, never entered any part of the White House save the office annex.

He liked this hotel suite; he was a sensible man, who preferred straight bourbon, codfish cakes, and deep leather chairs to Burgundy, trout bleu, and Louis Quinze. In this twelve-room apartment, occupying the entire tenth floor of a small unnotorious hotel, he had for himself only a plain bedroom, a huge living room which looked like a combination of office and hotel lobby, a large liquor closet, another closet with thirty-seven suits of clothes, and a bathroom with jars and jars of the pine-flavored bath salts which were his only cosmetic luxury. Buzz might come home in a suit dazzling as a horse blanket, one considered in Alfalfa Center a triumph of London tailoring, but, once safe, he liked to put on his red morocco slippers that were down at the heel and display his red suspenders and baby-blue sleeve garters. To feel correct in those decorations, he preferred the hotel atmosphere that, for so many years before he had ever seen the White House, had been as familiar to him as his ancestral corn cribs and Main Streets.

The other ten rooms of the suite, entirely shutting his own off from the corridors and elevators, were filled night and day with guards. To get through to Buzz in this intimate place of his own was very much like visiting a police station for the purpose of seeing a homicidal prisoner.

"Haik seems to me to be doing a fine job in the War Department, Lee," said the President. "Of course you know if you ever want the job of High Marshal back—"

"I'm quite satisfied," said the great Secretary of State.

"What do you think of having Colonel Luthorne back to help Haik out? He's pretty good on fool details."

Sarason looked as nearly embarrassed as the self-satisfied Lee Sarason ever could look.

"Why, uh—I supposed you knew it. Luthorne was liquidated in the purge ten days ago."

"Good God! Luthorne killed? Why didn't I know it?"

"It was thought better to keep it quiet. He was a pretty popular man. But dangerous. Always talking about Abraham Lincoln!"

"So I just never know anything about what's going on! Why, even the newspaper clippings are predigested, by God, before I see 'em!"

"It's thought better not to bother you with minor details, boss. You know that! Of course, if you feel I haven't organized your staff correctly—"

"Aw now, don't fly off the handle, Lee! I just meant—Of course I know how hard you've tried to protect me so I could give all my brains to the higher problems of State. But Luthorne—I kind of liked him. He always had quite a funny line when we played poker." Buzz Windrip felt lonely, as once a certain Shad Ledue had felt, in a hotel suite that differed from Buzz's only in being smaller. To forget it he bawled, very brightly, "Lee, do you ever wonder what'll happen in the future?"

"Why, I think you and I may have mentioned it."

"But golly, just think of what might happen in the future, Lee! Think of it! Why, we may be able to pull off a North American kingdom!" Buzz half meant it seriously—or perhaps quarter meant it. "How'd you like to be Duke of Georgia—or Grand Duke, or whatever they call a Grand Exalted Ruler of the Elks in this peerage business? And then how about an Empire of North and South America after that? I might make you a king under me, then—say something like King of Mexico. Howjuh like that?"

"Be very amusing," said Lee mechanically—as Lee always did say the same thing mechanically whenever Buzz repeated this same nonsense.

"But you got to stick by me and not forget all I've done for you, Lee, don't forget that."

"I never forget anything!... By the way, we ought to liquidate, or at least imprison, Perley Beecroft, too. He's still technically Vice-President of the United States, and if the lousy traitor managed some skullduggery so as to get you killed or deposed, he might be regarded by some narrow-minded literalists as President!"

"No, no, no! He's my friend, no matter what he says about me... the dirty dog!" wailed Buzz.

"All right. You're the boss. G'night," said Lee, and returned from this plumber's dream of paradise to his own gold-and-black and apricot-silk bower in Georgetown, which he shared with several handsome young M.M. officers. They were savage soldiers, yet apt at music and at poetry. With them, he was not in the least passionless, as he seemed now to Buzz Windrip. He was either angry with his young friends, and then he whipped them, or he was in a paroxysm of apology to them, and caressed their wounds. Newspapermen who had once seemed to be his friends said that he had traded the green eyeshade for a wreath of violets.

At cabinet meeting, late in 1938, Secretary of State Sarason revealed to the heads of the government disturbing news. Vice-President Beecroft—and had he not told them the man should have been shot?—had fled to Canada, renounced Corpoism, and joined Walt Trowbridge in plotting. There were bubbles from an almost boiling rebellion in the Middle West and Northwest, especially in Minnesota and the Dakotas, where agitators, some of them formerly of political influence, were demanding that their states secede from the Corpo Union and form a cooperative (indeed almost Socialistic) commonwealth of their own.

"Rats! Just a lot of irresponsible wind bags!" jeered President Windrip. "Why! I thought you were supposed to be the camera-eyed gink that kept up on everything that goes on, Lee! You forget that I myself, personally, made a special radio address to that particular section of the country last week! And I got a wonderful reaction. The Middle Westerners are absolutely loyal to me. They appreciate what I've been trying to do!"

Not answering him at all, Sarason demanded that, in order to bring and hold all elements in the country together by that useful Patriotism which always appears upon threat of an outside attack, the government immediately arrange to be insulted and menaced in a well-planned series of deplorable "incidents" on the Mexican border, and declare war on Mexico as soon as America showed that it was getting hot and patriotic enough.

Secretary of the Treasury Skittle and Attorney General Porkwood shook their heads, but Secretary of War Haik and Secretary of Education Macgoblin agreed with Sarason high-mindedly. Once, pointed out the learned Macgoblin, governments had merely let themselves slide into a war, thanking Providence for having provided a conflict as a febrifuge against internal discontent, but of course, in this age of deliberate, planned propaganda, a really modern government like theirs must figure out what brand of war they had to sell and plan the selling-campaign consciously. Now, as for him, he would be willing to leave the whole set-up to the advertising genius of Brother Sarason.

"No, no, no!" cried Windrip. "We're not ready for a war! Of course, we'll take Mexico some day. It's our destiny to control it and Christianize it. But I'm scared that your darn scheme might work just opposite to what you say. You put arms into the hands of too many irresponsible folks, and they might use 'em and turn against you and start a revolution and throw the whole dern gang of us out! No, no! I've often wondered if the whole Minute Men business, with their arms and training, may not be a mistake. That was your idea, Lee, not mine!"

Sarason spoke evenly: "My dear Buzz, one day you thank me for originating that 'great crusade of citizen soldiers defending their homes'—as you love to call it on the radio—and the next day you almost ruin your clothes, you're so scared of them. Make up your mind one way or the other!"

Sarason walked out of the room, not bowing.

Windrip complained, "I'm not going to stand for Lee's talking to me like that! Why, the dirty double-crosser, I made him! One of these days, he'll find a new secretary of state around this joint! I s'pose he thinks jobs like that grow on every tree! Maybe he'd like to be a bank president or something—I mean, maybe he'd like to be Emperor of England!"

President Windrip, in his hotel bedroom, was awakened late at night by the voice of a guard in the outer room: "Yuh, sure, let him pass—he's the Secretary of State." Nervously the President clicked on his bedside lamp... . He had needed it lately, to read himself to sleep.

In that limited glow he saw Lee Sarason, Dewey Haik, and Dr. Hector Macgoblin march to the side of his bed. Lee's thin sharp face was like flour. His deep-buried eyes were those of a sleepwalker. His skinny right hand held a bowie knife which, as his hand deliberately rose, was lost in the dimness. Windrip swiftly thought: Sure would be hard to know where to buy a dagger, in Washington; and Windrip thought: All this is the doggonedest foolishness—just like a movie or one of these old history books when you were a kid; and Windrip thought, all in that same flash: Good God, I'm going to be killed!

He cried out, "Lee! You couldn't do that to me!"

Lee grunted, like one who has detected a bad smell.

Then the Berzelius Windrip who could, incredibly, become President really awoke: "Lee! Do you remember the time when your old mother was so sick, and I gave you my last cent and loaned you my flivver so you could go see her, and I hitch-hiked to my next meeting? Lee!"

"Hell. I suppose so. General."

"Yes?" answered Dewey Haik, not very pleasantly.

"I think we'll stick him on a destroyer or something and let him sneak off to France or England.... The lousy coward seems afraid to die.... Of course, we'll kill him if he ever does dare to come back to the States. Take him out and phone the Secretary of the Navy for a boat and get him on it, will you?"

"Very well, sir," said Haik, even less pleasantly.

It had been easy. The troops, who obeyed Haik, as Secretary of War, had occupied all of Washington.

Ten days later Buzz Windrip was landed in Havre and went sighingly to Paris. It was his first view of Europe except for one twenty-one-day Cook's Tour. He was profoundly homesick for Chesterfield cigarettes, flapjacks, Moon Mullins, and the sound of some real human being saying "Yuh, what's bitin' you?" instead of this perpetual sappy "oui?"

In Paris he remained, though he became the sort of minor hero of tragedy, like the ex-King of Greece, Kerensky, the Russian Grand Dukes, Jimmy Walker, and a few ex-presidents from South America and Cuba, who is delighted to accept invitations to drawing rooms where the champagne is good enough and one may have a chance of finding people, now and then, who will listen to one's story and say "sir."

At that, though, Buzz chuckled, he had kinda put it over on those crooks, for during his two sweet years of despotism he had sent four million dollars abroad, to secret, safe accounts. And so Buzz Windrip passed into wabbly paragraphs in recollections by ex-diplomatic gentlemen with monocles. In what remained of Ex-President Windrip's life, everything was ex. He was even so far forgotten that only four or five American students tried to shoot him.

The more dulcetly they had once advised and flattered Buzz, the more ardently did most of his former followers, Macgoblin and Senator Porkwood and Dr. Almeric Trout and the rest, turn in loud allegiance to the new President, the Hon. Lee Sarason.

He issued a proclamation that he had discovered that Windrip had been embezzling the people's money and plotting with Mexico to avoid war with that guilty country; and that he, Sarason, in quite alarming grief and reluctance, since he more than anyone else had been deceived by his supposed friend, Windrip, had yielded to the urging of the Cabinet and taken over the Presidency, instead of Vice-President Beecroft, the exiled traitor.

President Sarason immediately began appointing the fancier of his young officer friends to the most responsible offices in State and army. It amused him, seemingly, to shock people by making a pink-cheeked, moist-eyed boy of twenty-five Commissioner of the Federal District, which included Washington and Maryland. Was he not supreme, was he not semi-divine, like a Roman emperor? Could he not defy all the muddy mob that he (once a Socialist) had, for its weak shiftlessness, come to despise?

"Would that the American people had just one neck!" he plagiarized, among his laughing boys.

In the decorous White House of Coolidge and Harrison and Rutherford Birchard Hayes he had orgies (an old name for "parties") with weaving limbs and garlands and wine in pretty fair imitations of Roman beakers.

It was hard for imprisoned men like Doremus Jessup to believe it, but there were some tens of thousands of Corpos, in the M.M.'s, in civil service, in the army, and just in private ways, to whom Sarason's flippant régime was tragic.

They were the Idealists of Corpoism, and there were plenty of them, along with the bullies and swindlers; they were the men and women who, in 1935 and 1936, had turned to Windrip & Co., not as perfect, but as the most probable saviors of the country from, on one hand, domination by Moscow and, on the other hand, the slack indolence, the lack of decent pride of half the American youth, whose world (these idealists asserted) was composed of shiftless distaste for work and refusal to learn anything thoroughly, of blatting dance music on the radio, maniac automobiles, slobbering sexuality, the humor and art of comic strips—of a slave psychology which was making America a land for sterner men to loot.

General Emmanuel Coon was one of the Corpo Idealists.

Such men did not condone the murders under the Corpo régime. But they insisted, "This is a revolution, and after all, when in all history has there been a revolution with so little bloodshed?"

They were aroused by the pageantry of Corpoism: enormous demonstrations, with the red-and-black flags a flaunting magnificence like storm clouds. They were proud of new Corpo roads, hospitals, television stations, aeroplane lines; they were touched by processions of the Corpo Youth, whose faces were exalted with pride in the myths of Corpo heroism and clean Spartan strength and the semi-divinity of the all-protecting Father, President Windrip. They believed, they made themselves believe, that in Windrip had come alive again the virtues of Andy Jackson and Farragut and Jeb Stuart, in place of the mob cheapness of the professional athletes who had been the only heroes of 1935.

They planned, these idealists, to correct, as quickly as might be, the errors of brutality and crookedness among officials. They saw arising a Corpo art, a Corpo learning, profound and real, divested of the traditional snobbishness of the old-time universities, valiant with youth, and only the more beautiful in that it was "useful." They were convinced that Corpoism was Communism cleansed of foreign domination and the violence and indignity of mob dictatorship; Monarchism with the chosen hero of the people for monarch; Fascism without grasping and selfish leaders; freedom with order and discipline; Traditional America without its waste and provincial cockiness.

Like all religious zealots, they had blessed capacity for blindness, and they were presently convinced that (since the only newspapers they ever read certainly said nothing about it) there were no more of blood-smeared cruelties in court and concentration camp; no restrictions of speech or thought. They believed that they never criticized the Corpo régime not because they were censored, but because "that sort of thing was, like obscenity, such awfully bad form."

And these idealists were as shocked and bewildered by Sarason's coup d'état against Windrip as was Mr. Berzelius Windrip himself.

The grim Secretary of War, Haik, scolded at President Sarason for his influence on the nation, particularly on the troops. Lee laughed at him, but once he was sufficiently flattered by Haik's tribute to his artistic powers to write a poem for him. It was a poem which was later to be sung by millions; it was, in fact, the most popular of the soldiers' ballads which were to spring automatically from anonymous soldier bards during the war between the United States and Mexico. Only, being as pious a believer in Modern Advertising as Sarason himself, the efficient Haik wanted to encourage the spontaneous generation of these patriotic folk ballads by providing the automatic springing and the anonymous bard. He had as much foresight, as much "prophetic engineering," as a motorcar manufacturer.

Sarason was as eager for war with Mexico (or Ethiopia or Siam or Greenland or any other country that would provide his pet young painters with a chance to portray Sarason being heroic amid curious vegetation) as Haik; not only to give malcontents something outside the country to be cross about, but also to give himself a chance to be picturesque. He answered Haik's request by writing a rollicking military chorus at a time while the country was still theoretically entirely friendly with Mexico. It went to the tune of "Mademoiselle from Armentières"—or "Armenteers." If the Spanish in it was a little shaky, still, millions were later to understand that "Habla oo?" stood for "¿Habla usted?" signifying "Parlez-vous?" It ran thus, as it came from Sarason's purple but smoking typewriter:

Señorita from Guadalupe, Qui usted? Señorita go roll your hoop, Or come to bed! Señorita from Guadalupe If Padre sees us we're in the soup, Hinky, dinky, habla oo?

Señorita from Monterey, Savvy Yank? Señorita what's that you say? You're Swede, Ay tank! But Señorita from Monterey, You won't hablar when we hit the hay, Hinky, dinky, habla oo?

Señorita from Mazatlán, Once we've met, You'll smile all over your khaki pan, You wont forget! For days you'll holler, "Oh, what a man!" And you'll never marry a Mexican. Hinky, dinky, habla oo?

If at times President Sarason seemed flippant, he was not at all so during his part in the scientific preparation for war which consisted in rehearsing M.M. choruses in trolling out this ditty with well-trained spontaneity.

His friend Hector Macgoblin, now Secretary of State, told Sarason that this manly chorus was one of his greatest creations. Macgoblin, though personally he did not join in Sarason's somewhat unusual midnight diversions, was amused by them, and he often told Sarason that he was the only original creative genius among this whole bunch of stuffed shirts, including Haik.

"You want to watch that cuss Haik, Lee," said Macgoblin. "He's ambitious, he's a gorilla, and he's a pious Puritan, and that's a triple combination I'm scared of. The troops like him."

"Rats! He has no attraction for them. He's just an accurate military bookkeeper," said Sarason.

That night he had a party at which, for a novelty, rather shocking to his intimates, he actually had girls present, performing certain curious dances. The next morning Haik rebuked him, and—Sarason had a hangover—was stormed at. That night, just a month after Sarason had usurped the Presidency, Haik struck.

There was no melodramatic dagger-and-uplifted-arm business about it, this time—though Haik did traditionally come late, for all Fascists, like all drunkards, seem to function most vigorously at night. Haik marched into the White House with his picked storm troops, found President Sarason in violet silk pajamas among his friends, shot Sarason and most of his companions dead, and proclaimed himself President.

Hector Macgoblin fled by aeroplane to Cuba, then on. When last seen, he was living high up in the mountains of Haiti, wearing only a singlet, dirty white-drill trousers, grass sandals, and a long tan beard; very healthy and happy, occupying a one-room hut with a lovely native girl, practicing modern medicine and studying ancient voodoo.

When Dewey Haik became President, then America really did begin to suffer a little, and to long for the good old democratic, liberal days of Windrip.

Windrip and Sarason had not minded mirth and dancing in the street so long as they could be suitably taxed. Haik disliked such things on principle. Except, perhaps, that he was an atheist in theology, he was a strict orthodox Christian. He was the first to tell the populace that they were not going to get any five thousand dollars a year but, instead, "reap the profits of Discipline and of the Scientific Totalitarian State not in mere paper figures but in vast dividends of Pride, Patriotism, and Power." He kicked out of the army all officers who could not endure marching and going thirsty; and out of the civil branch all commissioners—including one Francis Tasbrough—who had garnered riches too easily and too obviously.

He treated the entire nation like a well-run plantation, on which the slaves were better fed than formerly, less often cheated by their overseers, and kept so busy that they had time only for work and for sleep, and thus fell rarely into the debilitating vices of laughter, song (except war songs against Mexico), complaint, or thinking. Under Haik there were less floggings in M.M. posts and in concentration camps, for by his direction officers were not to waste time in the sport of beating persons, men, women, or children, who asserted that they didn't care to be slaves on even the best plantation, but just to shoot them out of hand.

Haik made such use of the clergy—Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, and Liberal-Agnostic—as Windrip and Sarason never had. While there were plenty of ministers who, like Mr. Falck and Father Stephen Perefixe, like Cardinal Faulhaber and Pastor Niemoeller in Germany, considered it some part of Christian duty to resent the enslavement and torture of their appointed flocks, there were also plenty of reverend celebrities, particularly large-city pastors whose sermons were reported in the newspapers every Monday morning, to whom Corpoism had given a chance to be noisily and lucratively patriotic. These were the chaplains-at-heart, who, if there was no war in which they could humbly help to purify and comfort the poor brave boys who were fighting, were glad to help provide such a war.

These more practical shepherds, since like doctors and lawyers they were able to steal secrets out of the heart, became valued spies during the difficult months after February, 1939, when Haik was working up war with Mexico. (Canada? Japan? Russia? They would come later.) For even with an army of slaves, it was necessary to persuade them that they were freemen and fighters for the principle of freedom, or otherwise the scoundrels might cross over and join the enemy!

So reigned the good king Haik, and if there was anyone in all the land who was discontented, you never heard him speak—not twice.

And in the White House, where under Sarason shameless youths had danced, under the new reign of righteousness and the blackjack, Mrs. Haik, a lady with eyeglasses and a smile of resolute cordiality, gave to the W.C.T.U., the Y.W.C.A., and the Ladies' League against Red Radicalism, and their inherently incidental husbands, a magnified and hand-colored Washington version of just such parties as she had once given in the Haik bungalow in Eglantine, Oregon.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE ban on information at the Trianon camp had been raised; Mrs. Candy had come calling on Doremus—complete with cocoanut layer cake—and he had heard of Mary's death, the departure of Emma and Sissy, the end of Windrip and Sarason. And none of it seemed in the least real—not half so real and, except for the fact that he would never see Mary again, not half so important as the increasing number of lice and rats in their cell.

During the ban, they had celebrated Christmas by laughing, not very cheerfully, at the Christmas tree Karl Pascal had contrived out of a spruce bough and tinfoil from cigarette packages. They had hummed "Stille Nacht" softly in the darkness, and Doremus had thought of all their comrades in political prisons in America, Europe, Japan, India.

But Karl, apparently, thought of comrades only if they were saved, baptized Communists. And, forced together as they were in a cell, the growing bitterness and orthodox piety of Karl became one of Doremus's most hateful woes; a tragedy to be blamed upon the Corpos, or upon the principle of dictatorship in general, as savagely as the deaths of Mary and Dan Wilgus and Henry Veeder. Under persecution, Karl lost no ounce of his courage and his ingenuity in bamboozling the M.M. guards, but day by day he did steadily lose all his humor, his patience, his tolerance, his easy companionship, and everything else that made life endurable to men packed in a cell. The Communism that had always been his King Charles's Head, sometimes amusing, became a religious bigotry as hateful to Doremus as the old bigotries of the Inquisition or the Fundamentalist Protestants; that attitude of slaughtering to save men's souls from which the Jessup family had escaped during these last three generations.

It was impossible to get away from Karl's increasing zeal. He chattered on at night for an hour after all the other five had growled, "Oh, shut up! I want to sleep! You'll be making a Corpo out of me!"

Sometimes, in his proselytizing, he conquered. When his cell mates had long enough cursed the camp guards, Karl would rebuke them: "You're a lot too simple when you explain everything by saying that the Corpos, especially the M.M.'s, are all fiends. Plenty of 'em are. But even the worst of 'em, even the professional gunmen in the M.M. ranks, don't get as much satisfaction out of punishing us heretics as the honest, dumb Corpos who've been misled by their leaders' mouthing about Freedom, Order, Security, Discipline, Strength! All those swell words that even before Windrip came in the speculators started using to protect their profits! Especially how they used the word 'Liberty'! Liberty to steal the didies off the babies! I tell you, an honest man gets sick when he hears the word 'Liberty' today, after what the Republicans did to it! And I tell you that a lot of the M.M. guards right here at Trianon are just as unfortunate as we are—lot of 'em are just poor devils that couldn't get decent work, back in the Golden Age of Frank Roosevelt—bookkeepers that had to dig ditches, auto agents that couldn't sell cars and went sour, ex-looeys in the Great War that came back to find their jobs pinched off 'em and that followed Windrip, quite honestly, because they thought, the saps, that when he said Security he meant Security! They'll learn!"

And having admirably discoursed for another hour on the perils of self-righteousness among the Corpos, Comrade Pascal would change the subject and discourse upon the glory of self-righteousness among the Communists—particularly upon those sanctified examples of Communism who lived in bliss in the Holy City of Moscow, where, Doremus judged, the streets were paved with undepreciable roubles.

The Holy City of Moscow! Karl looked upon it with exactly such uncritical and slightly hysterical adoration as other sectarians had in their day devoted to Jerusalem, Mecca, Rome, Canterbury, and Benares. Fine, all right, thought Doremus. Let 'em worship their sacred fonts—it was as good a game as any for the mentally retarded. Only, why then should they object to his considering as sacred Fort Beulah, or New York, or Oklahoma City?

Karl once fell into a froth because Doremus wondered if the iron deposits in Russia were all they might be. Why certainly! Russia, being Holy Russia, must, as a useful part of its holiness, have sufficient iron, and Karl needed no mineralogists' reports but only the blissful eye of faith to know it.

He did not mind Karl's worshiping Holy Russia. But Karl did, using the word "naïve," which is the favorite word and just possibly the only word known to Communist journalists, derisively mind when Doremus had a mild notion of worshiping Holy America. Karl spoke often of photographs in the Moscow News of nearly naked girls on Russian bathing-beaches as proving the triumph and joy of the workers under Bolshevism, but he regarded precisely the same sort of photographs of nearly naked girls on Long Island bathing-beaches as proving the degeneration of the workers under Capitalism.

As a newspaper man, Doremus remembered that the only reporters who misrepresented and concealed facts more unscrupulously than the Capitalists were the Communists.

He was afraid that the world struggle today was not of Communism against Fascism, but of tolerance against the bigotry that was preached equally by Communism and Fascism. But he saw too that in America the struggle was befogged by the fact that the worst Fascists were they who disowned the word "Fascism" and preached enslavement to Capitalism under the style of Constitutional and Traditional Native American Liberty. For they were thieves not only of wages but of honor. To their purpose they could quote not only Scripture but Jefferson.

That Karl Pascal should be turning into a zealot, like most of his chiefs in the Communist party, was grievous to Doremus because he had once simple-heartedly hoped that in the mass strength of Communism there might be an escape from cynical dictatorship. But he saw now that he must remain alone, a "Liberal," scorned by all the noisier prophets for refusing to be a willing cat for the busy monkeys of either side. But at worst, the Liberals, the Tolerant, might in the long run preserve some of the arts of civilization, no matter which brand of tyranny should finally dominate the world.

"More and more, as I think about history," he pondered, "I am convinced that everything that is worth while in the world has been accomplished by the free, inquiring, critical spirit, and that the preservation of this spirit is more important than any social system whatsoever. But the men of ritual and the men of barbarism are capable of shutting up the men of science and of silencing them forever."

Yes, this was the worst thing the enemies of honor, the pirate industrialists and then their suitable successors, the Corpos with their blackjacks, had done: it had turned the brave, the generous, the passionate and half-literate Karl Pascals into dangerous fanatics. And how well they had done it! Doremus was uncomfortable with Karl; he felt that his next turn in jail might be under the wardenship of none other than Karl himself, as he remembered how the Bolsheviks, once in power, had most smugly imprisoned and persecuted those great women, Spiridinova and Breshkovskaya and Ismailovitch, who, by their conspiracies against the Czar, their willingness to endure Siberian torture on behalf of "freedom for the masses," had most brought on the revolution by which the Bolsheviks were able to take control—and not only again forbid freedom to the masses, but this time inform them that, anyway, freedom was just a damn silly bourgeois superstition.

So Doremus, sleeping two-and-a-half feet above his old companion, felt himself in a cell within a cell. Henry Veeder and Clarence Little and Victor Loveland and Mr. Falck were gone now, and to Julian, penned in solitary, he could not speak once a month.

He yearned for escape with a desire that was near to insanity; awake and asleep it was his obsession; and he thought his heart had stopped when Squad-Leader Aras Dilley muttered to him, as Doremus was scrubbing a lavatory floor, "Say! Listen, Mr. Jessup! Mis' Pike is fixin' it up and I'm going to help you escape jus' soon as things is right!"

It was a question of the guards on sentry-go outside the quadrangle. As sweeper, Doremus was reasonably free to leave his cell, and Aras had loosened the boards and barbed wire at the end of one of the alleys leading from the quadrangle between buildings. But outside, he was likely to be shot by a guard on sight.

For a week Aras watched. He knew that one of the night guards had a habit of getting drunk, which was forgiven him because of his excellence in flogging troublemakers but which was regarded by the more judicious as rather regrettable. And for that week Aras fed the guard's habit on Lorinda's expense money, and was indeed so devoted to his duties that he was himself twice carried to bed. Snake Tizra grew interested—but Snake also, after the first couple of drinks, liked to be democratic with his men and to sing "The Old Spinning-Wheel."

Aras confided to Doremus: "Mis' Pike—she don't dast send you a note, less somebody get hold of it, but she says to me to tell you not to tell anybody you're going to take a sneak, or it'll get out."

So on the evening when Aras jerked a head at him from the corridor, then rasped, surly-seeming, "Here you, Jessup—you left one of the cans all dirty!" Doremus looked mildly at the cell that had been his home and study and tabernacle for six months, glanced at Karl Pascal reading in his bunk—slowly waving a shoeless foot in a sock with the end of it gone, at Truman Webb darning the seat of his pants, noted the gray smoke in filmy tilting layers about the small electric bulb in the ceiling, and silently stepped out into the corridor.

The late-January night was foggy.

Aras handed him a worn M.M. overcoat, whispered, "Third alley on right; moving-van on corner opposite the church," and was gone.

On hands and knees Doremus briskly crawled under the loosened barbed wire at the end of the small alley and carelessly stepped out, along the road. The only guard in sight was at a distance, and he was wavering in his gait. A block away, a furniture van was jacked up while the driver and his helper painfully prepared to change one of the tremendous tires. In the light of a corner arc, Doremus saw that the driver was that same hard-faced long-distance cruiser who had carried bundles of tracts for the New Underground.

The driver grunted, "Get in—hustle!" Doremus crouched between a bureau and a wing chair inside.

Instantly he felt the tilted body of the van dropping, as the driver pulled out the jack, and from the seat he heard, "All right! We're off. Crawl up behind me here and listen, Mr. Jessup.... Can you hear me?... The M.M.'s don't take so much trouble to prevent you gents and respectable fellows from escaping. They figure that most of you are too scary to try out anything, once you're away from your offices and front porches and sedans. But I guess you may be different, some ways, Mr. Jessup. Besides, they figure that if you do escape, they can pick you up easy afterwards, because you ain't onto hiding out, like a regular fellow that's been out of work sometimes and maybe gone on the bum. But don't worry. We'll get you through. I tell you, there's nobody got friends like a revolutionist.... and enemies!"

Then first did it come to Doremus that, by sentence of the late lamented Effingham Swan, he was subject to the death penalty for escaping. But "Oh, what the hell!" he grunted, like Karl Pascal, and he stretched in the luxury of mobility, in that galloping furniture truck.

He was free! He saw the lights of villages going by!

Once, he was hidden beneath hay in a barn; again, in a spruce grove high on a hill; and once he slept overnight on top of a coffin in the establishment of an undertaker. He walked secret paths; he rode in the back of an itinerant medicine-peddler's car and, concealed in fur cap and high-collared fur coat, in the sidecar of an Underground worker serving as an M.M. squad-leader. From this he dismounted, at the driver's command, in front of an obviously untenanted farmhouse on a snaky back-road between Monadnock Mountain and the Averill lakes—a very slattern of an old unpainted farmhouse, with sinking roof and snow up to the frowsy windows.

It seemed a mistake.

Doremus knocked, as the motorcycle snarled away, and the door opened on Lorinda Pike and Sissy, crying together, "Oh, my dear!"

He could only mutter, "Well!"

When they had made him strip off his fur coat in the farmhouse living room, a room with peeling wall paper, and altogether bare except for a cot, two chairs, a table, the two moaning women saw a small man, his face dirty, pasty, and sunken as by tuberculosis, his once fussily trimmed beard and mustache ragged as wisps of hay, his overlong hair a rustic jag at the back, his clothes ripped and filthy—an old, sick, discouraged tramp. He dropped on a straight chair and stared at them. Maybe they were genuine—maybe they really were there—maybe he was, as it seemed, in heaven, looking at the two principal angels, but he had been so often fooled so cruelly in his visions these dreary months! He sobbed, and they comforted him with softly stroking hands and not too confoundedly much babble.

"I've got a hot bath for you! And I'll scrub your back! And then some hot chicken soup and ice cream!"

As though one should say: The Lord God awaits you on His throne and all whom you bless shall be blessed, and all your enemies brought to their knees!

Those sainted women had actually had a long tin tub fetched to the kitchen of the old house, filled it with water heated in kettle and dishpan on the stove, and provided brushes, soap, a vast sponge, and such a long caressing bath towel as Doremus had forgotten existed. And somehow, from Fort Beulah, Sissy had brought plenty of his own shoes and shirts and three suits that now seemed to him fit for royalty.

He who had not had a hot bath for six months, and for three had worn the same underclothes, and for two (in clammy winter) no socks whatever!

If the presence of Lorinda and Sissy was token of heaven, to slide inch by slow ecstatic inch into the tub was its proof, and he lay soaking in glory.

When he was half dressed, the two came in, and there was about as much thought of modesty, or need for it, as though he were the two-year-old babe he somewhat resembled. They were laughing at him, but laughter became sharp whimpers of horror when they saw the gridironed meat of his back. But nothing more demanding than "Oh, my dear!" did Lorinda say, even then.

Though Sissy had once been glad that Lorinda spared her any mothering, Doremus rejoiced in it. Snake Tizra and the Trianon concentration camp had been singularly devoid of any mothering. Lorinda salved his back and powdered it. She cut his hair, not too unskillfully. She cooked for him all the heavy, earthy dishes of which he had dreamed, hungry in a cell: hamburg steak with onions, corn pudding, buckwheat cakes with sausages, apple dumplings with hard and soft sauce, and cream of mushroom soup!

It had not been safe to take him to the comforts of her tea room at Beecher Falls; already M.M.'s had been there, snooping after him. But Sissy and she had, for such refugees as they might be forwarding for the New Underground, provided this dingy farmhouse with half-a-dozen cots, and rich stores of canned goods and beautiful bottles (Doremus considered them) of honey and marmalade and bar-le-duc. The actual final crossing of the border into Canada was easier than it had been when Buck Titus had tried to smuggle the Jessup family over. It had become a system, as in the piratical days of bootlegging; with new forest paths, bribery of frontier guards, and forged passports. He was safe. Yet just to make safety safer, Lorinda and Sissy, rubbing their chins as they looked Doremus over, still discussing him as brazenly as though he were a baby who could not understand them, decided to turn him into a young man.

"Dye his hair and mustache black and shave the beard, I think. I wish we had time to give him a nice Florida tan with an Alpine lamp, too," considered Lorinda.

"Yes, I think he'll look sweet that way," said Sissy.

"I will not have my beard off!" he protested. "How do I know what kind of a chin I'll have when it's naked?"

"Why, the man still thinks he's a newspaper proprietor and one of Fort Beulah's social favorites!" marveled Sissy as they ruthlessly set to work.

"Only real reason for these damn wars and revolutions anyway is that the womenfolks get a chance—ouch! be careful!—to be dear little Amateur Mothers to every male they can get in their clutches. Hair dye!" said Doremus bitterly.

But he was shamelessly proud of his youthful face when it was denuded, and he discovered that he had a quite tolerably stubborn chin, and Sissy was sent back to Beecher Falls to keep the tea room alive, and for three days Lorinda and he gobbled steaks and ale, and played pinochle, and lay talking infinitely of all they had thought about each other in the six desert months that might have been sixty years. He was to remember the sloping farmhouse bedroom and a shred of rag carpet and a couple of rickety chairs and Lorinda snuggled under the old red comforter on the cot, not as winter poverty but as youth and adventurous love.

Then, in a forest clearing, with snow along the spruce boughs, a few feet across into Canada, he was peering into the eyes of his two women, curtly saying good-bye, and trudging off into the new prison of exile from the America to which, already, he was looking back with the long pain of nostalgia.

#hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #sinclair lewis

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ladylilithprime · 7 months

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Not New, But New To Us

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Pre-Slash Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Furniture Shopping, Ethical Business Owner Sam Winchester

Summary: A faerie bargain to ensure no one remembered that John Castiel and James Constantine Novak hadn't actually been born twins in exchange for a week of service. At the end of the week, they were presented with an offer of permanent employment and the chance to move into their own home far away from the family that barely counted as such. Now Cas and Jimmy just needed to sort out certain details of living on their own, like buying actual groceries and even furniture.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 13: Splurge

Read on AO3

THEY NEVER WOULD have been able to afford it working any of their previous jobs, even pulling two paychecks for one unfurnished single-bedroom-and-bathroom apartment. Frankly, it would have taken them months to save up enough to afford the apartment itself, even living at home the way they had needed to for the three years after college before embarking on the search that had led them to southern New Jersey in the first place. Minimum wage was not a livable wage as they had discovered, and good understanding managers who could accept and work with their necessary accommodations were few and far between.

Sam was an entirely different breed of business owner than Jimmy and Cas Novak were used to, not even counting the part where he was half-faerie and a powerful sorcerer. Their initial bargain had been for a week of service in the Avalon-located cafe, Lighthouse CommodiTeas, in exchange for the spell which had altered reality so that no one besides the twins, their mother, and Sam himself would ever remember that "John Castiel and James Constantine Novak" had ever been born as only one child instead of two. Due to them not being local - Avalon, New Jersey, was a long way from Normal, Illinois, after all - Sam had graciously included the twins' use of his spare room and meals in the bargain so they would not be at risk trying to afford living out of another dirt-cheap motel on the dregs of their nearly exhausted savings while they worked for him. It was during that week of cohabitation with Sam and his son Jack that it had been revealed that Jimmy was a fairly talented cook and that Cas's frequent binges of stress-baking produced quite delectable results. The twins had been flabbergasted when Sam had offered to hire them on full time at the starting salary of twenty-five dollars an hour with health and dental insurance and guaranteed three weeks of paid time off. Each.

They were not stupid enough to say no to that, even after negotiating overlapping eight hour shifts six days a week with alternating days off. Sam had even been generous enough to spot them the first month's wages up front with the stipulation that their paychecks during that period would consist solely of whatever overtime wages they earned so that they could afford to pay the first and last month security deposit on the Ocean City apartment, turn on the power and water, and acquire some basic necessities from the nearby Good Will and other thrift shops they spotted around the area between Ocean City and Avalon. Much to their surprise, Charlie had taken one of her own PTO days to go with Cas to the grocery store on his first day off to help stock their kitchen with more than just ramen, rice, canned beans and vegetables, crackers, and peanut butter.

She had done it again the next month, this time taking Jimmy to a discount furniture store she knew about because she claimed that she had no idea how he and Cas were managing to eat sitting on the floor around their twenty dollar secondhand coffee table or get anything resembling a decently restful night's sleep on a couple of sleeping bags. She had been only slightly impressed by the explanation that both sleeping bags were opened up and zipped together to make a double thick mattress pad that they slept on between the blankets and pillows they had brought with them on their cross-country trip.

"You aren't living out of a motel room anymore," she pointed out. "You can afford to get a real kitchen table and chairs and maybe a futon if you're that opposed to buying yourselves a couple of actual beds."

"There's hardly enough space for even one bed," Jimmy protested.

"Oh my goddess, there was only one bed," Charlie deadpanned. "Be still my fanfic writer heart."

"You do know we're brothers, right?" Jimmy rolled his eyes, but he had let her shove him into her tiny little obnoxiously orange rollerskate of a 1968 Volkswagon Beetle and drive him across to the mainland. He had even conceded to getting a sturdy wooden table and a couple of chairs that could be used as a wide double-sided desk when not playing dinner table. Three hundred and twenty dollars for a table and two chairs still felt like too much to spend on furniture, but Charlie managed to talk him around by pointing out that it was a one time purchase he would use for probably years.

They were heading for the check out counter with the tags for the table and chairs to pay and arrange for delivery (Charlie's treat since her car wasn't going to hold even one of the chairs) when Jimmy saw it. Two-toned royal blue and purple colorblock, L-shaped, with a long lounger section and plush stuffed cushions complete with large two-foot-squared throw pillows in a zigzag pattern that made Jimmy think of a video arcade carpet. He veered off towards it, ignoring Charlie's bewildered call, and slowly ran his hand over it, feeling the soft, short pile of velvety fabric. He ran his hand back the other way and was pleasantly surprised to find it just as soft in that direction.

"Well, no question why that one is on discount," Charlie said as she joined him. "That has got to be the ugliest couch I've ever seen."

"Girl with the day-glo car says what now?" Jimmy retorted, not looking up from the couch, studying the configuration and dimensions. He lifted one of the cushions and had to bite back an exclamation at the sight of a handle on the inner edge of the base. Soft, big enough to fall asleep on as it was, pillows big enough to sit on at the coffee table if needed, and a sleeper?!

"Fine, touché," Charlie snorted. "You sure about this, though, dude? Two minutes ago you were having vapors over paying three hundred bucks for a table and chairs."

"And as you pointed out, they're meant to be a one-time purchase that Cas and I will get years of multipurpose use out of," Jimmy pointed out. "And it's been discounted, right?"

"Down to eight-fifty," Charlie said.

Jimmy blinked. Mentally translated that as, most likely, being eight hundred and fifty dollars rather than the completely irrational eight dollars and fifty cents. Swallowed. Ran his fingers along the fabric again. "Cas will love it," he said at length.

"Fair enough," Charlie said, and plucked up the tag to add to the others.

#fluffy february 2024 #rk writes #supernatural fic #urban fantasy au #pre-slash sastimmy #furniture shopping

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freeworldallahexecutivembaclass · 1 year

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The wage increase and yet it still more work for us to do as a city it's not much but it is a start I know most of aspire to be millionaires and billionaires so the minimum wage is nothing to them but it say a lot about a city when they can pay the correct salary to employees and people like myself that deserve the better salary the tax cuts the better job environment and happier people to work around and yes I need the more money on my paycheck for a better quality of life , for myself and in the neighborhoods I got to live in and it is only going to get better with more restrictive things in our life getting put away and passing away to a much better and brighter days in full prosperity for all of us with our elected officials in the driver's seat of our leadership .

Tax cuts to help the everyday person keep more of their check in their pockets cut the tax rates in New York City by 4 percent I see it as New York State taxes % 8.82 to % 4 percent and business tax cuts to create more jobs the wages did increase which is very good but with the taxes on my check and how much they take out of my earnings it is like I'm still making that $ 11 dollars or in some case it is like we still making $ 6 . 25 dollars an hour in an expensive city like New York City so technically it is like we are as employees are still making $ 10 dollars an hour instead of that $ 6 dollar increase that was implemented by me I proposed it and it went through the wage increase

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-new-york-minimumwage/new-yorks-cuomo-signs-two-tier-minimum-wage-law-in-push-for-state-wide-15-hour-idUSKCN0X11Y1In

New York, the minimum wage rises to $15 per hour from its current $9 by the end of 2018 for most businesses in New York City. Commuter counties of Nassau, Suffolk and Westchester will reach $15 by the end of 2021, while the rest of the state will reach $12.50 by the end of 2020.

Apr 4, 2016What is the Raise the Wage Act 2023?

The Raise the Wage Act of 2023 would gradually raise the minimum wage to $17 by 2028 and give roughly 28 million Americans a long-overdue raise.Jul 25, 2023What was the minimum wage in New York City in 2017?General Minimum Wage Rate Schedule

Location 12/31/16 12/31/17NYC - Big Employers (of 11 or more)

$11.00 $13.00NYC - Small Employers (10 or less) $10.50 $12.00Long Island & Westchester $10.00 $11.00

Remainder of New York State Workers $9.70 $10.40January 1, 2024

What did minimum wage go up to in New York State?New York Enacts Increases to State Minimum Wage

Effective Date New York City, Long Island, and Westchester County Remainder of New York State

Current Minimum Wage $15/hour $14.20/hour

January 1, 2024 $16/hour $15/hour

January 1, 2025 $16.50/hour $15.50/hour

January 1, 2026 $17/hour $16/hour

May 16, 2023What city had the highest minimum wage?West Hollywood

West Hollywood now has nation's highest minimum wage

The city now requires businesses to pay workers at least $19.08. Previously, the minimum wage was $17 for employers with 50 employees or fewer and $17.50 for employers with at least 50 employees.

The rate was $18.35 for hotel employers.Jul 3, 2023Which states minimum wage is going up in 2023?State and locality midyear minimum wage rates are increasing in California, Connecticut, the District of Columbia, Florida, Illinois, Maryland, Minnesota, Nevada, and Oregon. The wage increases in all but Connecticut and Florida will take effect on July 1, 2023.Jun 9, 2023

What city in the US has the highest minimum wage in 2023?

SeattleMinimum wage workers in Seattle earn the most.No city in our study has a higher statutory minimum wage than Seattle, where minimum wage workers earn $18.69 an hour. But Seattle is also among the highest cost-of-living cities in our study.Jan 18, 2023

Proposing A

Wage increase of $ 22 - $ 23 dollars an hour for jobs not excluding any workers for any companies but Including :

Fire safety directors

Security guards

Librarians Library pages

Hotel concierges

Delivery service

Construction workers

Fed Ex workers

UPS workers

Ready Willing and able with free vocational grants from access vr programs they should hire vocational rehabilitation counselors and job developers finding permanent housing and permanent job placement after the clients training Stock Clerks and cashier's at major stores like Gristedes , C Town , met foods , Burlington coat factory wage increase for all warehousing and factory workers jack pallet and forklift training for people with no experience and a starting salary at $ 17 - 19 $ dollars an hour and it increase with more time on the job how about the first year at that base salary of $ 17 - 19 $ dollars and on the even of that year the employee gets an raise of $ 2 dollars more on their check and other financial incentives as cash allocation from their check for newly place employee mutual fund packages besides with other benefits that said company is offering this helps to place that company on the stock market because of the huge huge employee buy in it is like employers investing in their employees their stores and company .Educational requirements for jobs posted is less than a high school diploma but the job candidate has to be in a vocational program or GED preparation course half or full time hours .Civil service jobs and exams posted weekly . Sales professional salary plus commission on sales and stock options for mutual funds packages as bonuses with an wage increase to $ 19 dollars to $ 21 dollars an hour .Newly added benefits to a job description benefits an employer on jobs posted give to their employees an employer get to hold back cash or take money out of an employees check to put towards a mutual funds stock fund option to help that client make more money as a second job the mutual funds stock option is packaged to help the employees money make more money for them talk about overtime whew and at the same time that local market and store owner can put his company on the stock market and give out public shares thus in the end making it a good investment a regular place of shopping in a family like environment it is like getting to know your deli clerk , butcher , bakery attendant again only this time you are making money with the people you are spending money with Think about it that in turns build better communities better stores customer relationships safer neighborhoods and the beautifying of economically depressed environments more money for your kids college tuition school supplies newer roads being built leading to and from better neighborhoods and businesses and this is a future that we all as fellow New Yorkers can build together

Let's Make New York great again

Added benefits

Jobs and job growth

Wage increase

Stock options

Infrastructure

What is the living wage in NYC 2023? As of April 1, 2023, the following living wage rate and health benefit supplement apply: Living Wage Rate: $15.00. PLEASE NOTE: As of December 31, 2018, the New York State Minimum Wage exceeds the Living Wage Rate. Accordingly, the applicable Minimum Wage is set as the Living Wage Rate.

Is minimum wage going up in NY 2023? As part of the state's 2023-2024 budget deal, Gov. Kathy Hochul signed into law an increase to New York's minimum wage. In fact, the minimum wage will increase to $17.00 per hour for most New York State employers by Jan.May 18, 2023

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incarnateirony · 3 months

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I wonder if she's improved her life habits at all.

Because for all her bitching about the occasional lone beer bottle, she sure couldn't be assed to clean anything up herself. I still had to do and unload the dishes or they wouldn't be done. I still had to run the trash or it wouldn't be done. I still had to work 60+ hours between because she loved blowing an extra 20+ bucks a day at the gas station, or about 600/mo, and that's not including agreed on purchases like cigs or whatever. And between all that she still wanted infinite RP game attention, and literally ran off because she wasn't getting it.

I know as it is they managed to lose their job within like, months of me leaving. Like the one she only got to premeditatively kick me out the second she got her first check and let me pay off all her bills. She gave an address of employment and I haven't even been assed to check it out on google or whatever for fear of discovering some other visuals I've encountered while she's been attaching her parasitic ass to me. So at least then she'd almost have an excuse to not do shit but premeditatively complain her way around a house, but afaik her hubby is working too, so that should still be equal load.

Just a general thought about this pretty princess bitch. I really doubt it's changed since in her mid thirties she recently discovered Buying Groceries Is Hard. And in her case on TWO incomes. Between Formerly Rich Daddy, and Me As Her Sugar Daddy, and other men all covering her ass before she fucked them over--she never had to deal with that. Marie Antoinette is learning what it's like to go to Walmart and spend HER money, not someone else's. Not free ride in her parents loft while letting her partner of the year pay all other expenses. Even when she "moved out cuz she hates her parents" (that she also shit talks in cycles), she was entirely codependent on two people, who she was twisting around her fingers too while trying to contact me so she could lose her job and have me come save her ass while the others got the fuck out realizing everything she'd done and said that year or so had been a lie.

Did you guys know this cunt is so entitled that AFTER she let me pay bills and then lemon stunted and tried to throw me out of the apartment I was the one paying for. Conveniently, a tree crashed through her parents house around the last week I was there, or right after I moved, and after ALL OF THIS BULLSHIT, the INFESTED FLAPPING LABIA SHE IS, in ALL HER FUCKING ENTITLEMENT, literally felt she had the right to come to me, while LITERALLY WAITING TO MOVE IN HER USELESS BOYFRIEND, and "uwu, will you help pay to save my parents house."

To which I was like. Damn. That sucks. Too bad we don't have two home incomes now instead of me having to spend thousands of dollars I'm working double overtime to make up after you leeched my money and stunted just so I can move out. Good luck with that, you cunt. Congrats, her whorish ways increased her family's suffering and nobody is required to help them. And, just like in Every Other Meaningful Qualifier, the low budget man she imported to replace me over her twitter roleplay addiction and anger that she wasn't being allowed to vanish into disassociation land, or at least wasn't being enabled by me-- he couldn't do shit, he wasn't worth shit, she had to come to ME. Fucker can't provide, can't protect, can only whine and push her down the delirium slide for his own gain.

I was doing my weekend post workweek major house cleaning and it just struck me. The only thing I am missing is a 400 lb behemoth money leech pissing off all my friends, nothing in my life responsibilities has changed beyond grounding her dramatic ass. Well technically i have more with the baby business and those responsibilities, but even adding that in, and all the extra cleaning or time or energy required, is less fucking draining than standing in her proximity. My potted plants literally have better personalities than her, and give back more to society.

She's fucking poison.

Did I ever write about the time she got us both fired from a company by breaking company policy about competition with other employees and companies??? I didn't even have shit to do with it but we both worked for the same company in the same house, and because the dumb bitch couldn't control herself, we both lost our job back then. I wonder if that's what happened at Geico. At best I'd vaguely entertained an idea for a future possible business model I was nowhere near making, loosely inspired by my job's concept, when she pitched it. Her empty head started flapping its lips at coworkers in the company trying to actively convert them into it like we were ready to launch already when we hadn't done the foggiest thing. Yeah. She's that stupid.

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allgoodfinancial · 5 months

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Protecting Your Future with Disability Insurance for the Self-Employed

Being self-employed offers a unique set of freedoms, from setting your own hours to choosing your projects. However, it also comes with distinct risks, particularly when it comes to financial security in the event of an unexpected illness or injury. Disability insurance is a critical tool for anyone in the gig economy or managing their own business, providing a safety net that can help maintain your lifestyle and cover your expenses if you're unable to work.

The Importance of Disability Insurance for the Self-Employed

Self-employed individuals often lack the safety nets provided by traditional employment, such as sick leave, paid vacation, and employer-provided health insurance. This makes disability insurance even more essential. It acts as a replacement for lost income if you become unable to work due to a disability, whether it's due to an accident or a health issue like a chronic illness or severe injury.

Understanding Disability Insurance

Disability insurance policies are designed to replace a portion of your monthly income if you find yourself unable to work. There are two main types of disability insurance:

Short-Term Disability Insurance: This covers a portion of your income for a short period, typically three to six months, with benefits usually starting a few weeks after you become disabled.

Long-Term Disability Insurance: This kicks in after a longer waiting period, usually 90 days, and can last for several years or even until retirement age, depending on the policy.

For self-employed professionals, long-term disability insurance is particularly important, as it ensures you are covered for an extended period, helping you manage your financial obligations and maintain your standard of living.

Key Benefits of Disability Insurance for Self-Employed Individuals

Income Security: Disability insurance provides financial stability and peace of mind, knowing that you can still pay your bills, manage your business expenses, and maintain your lifestyle even if you cannot work.

Flexible Coverage Options: Many insurance providers offer customizable policies that can match your financial needs and risk tolerance, including the choice of benefit periods, coverage amounts, and waiting periods.

Tax Benefits: Disability insurance premiums are not tax-deductible when you pay them with after-tax dollars, but this also means any benefits you receive are tax-free.

Choosing the Right Disability Insurance

Selecting the right disability insurance involves several considerations to ensure the policy matches your needs:

Benefit Period: Determine how long you would need the benefits if you were disabled. Some might choose a few years, while others might want coverage that lasts until retirement.

Coverage Amount: Ideally, your policy should cover 60-80% of your current income to maintain your standard of living without drastic changes.

Waiting Period: Also known as the elimination period, this is the time between when an injury or illness begins and when benefits start. Think about how long you could cover expenses with your savings before insurance payments begin.

Premium Costs: Weigh the cost of the premiums against potential benefits. Cheaper policies might not offer comprehensive coverage or have restrictive terms.

Policy Terms: Understand the terms of your policy, including how the insurer defines disability. Some policies pay benefits if you are unable to perform your job, while others only pay if you are unable to perform any job for which you are qualified.

Conclusion

For self-employed individuals, the absence of work doesn't just mean a loss of income; it can jeopardize the whole business. Disability insurance acts as a crucial safeguard, protecting against the financial impact of illness or injury. It ensures that even if you're unable to work, your financial obligations are covered, and your business can remain afloat or can be wound down gracefully. Investing in a suitable disability insurance policy is not just planning for the worst—it's ensuring the continuation of your independence and securing your future financial health.

#disability insurance for self employed

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truck-fump · 7 months

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Think Tipping Is Out of Control? Watch This.TWO DOLLARS AND...

New Post has been published on https://robertreich.org/post/742430434718334976

Think Tipping Is Out of Control? Watch This.TWO DOLLARS AND...

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Think Tipping Is Out of Control? Watch This.

TWO DOLLARS AND THIRTEEN CENTS AN HOUR.

That’s how much millions of American workers are paid under the federal subminimum wage — which was set all the way back in 1991.

While many think tipping for services has gotten out of control, arguing over who deserves a tip and how much they should get distracts from what we should really be angry about: business models that depend on not paying workers a living wage.

It’s bad enough that the federal minimum wage is a measly $7.25 an hour. But employers are allowed to pay tipped workers just $2.13 an hour because supposedly the workers will be able to make up for it in tips.

Saru Jayaraman of One Fair Wage has been advocating to change this absurd and exploitative law. I asked her to share with us FOUR big reasons why we need to get rid of the subminimum wage and pay service workers a full living wage with tips on top.

Number 1: Workers who earn a subminimum wage often end up making less than the minimum wage

43 states currently allow certain workers to be paid a subminimum wage. Employers in these states are legally required to make up the difference if a worker’s combined wage and tips don’t reach the full minimum wage. But over a third of tipped workers report that their bosses regularly fail to do this.

That’s because enforcement of wage laws is lax, and it makes it easier for employers to get away with shortchanging staff.

Number 2: The subminimum wage perpetuates gender discrimination and harassment on the job

More than two-thirds of tipped workers — 70% — in the U.S. are women. And one in six women that work a tipped job are living in poverty — that’s nearly 2.5 times the rate for workers overall.

Since workers earning the subminimum wage are so dependent on tips to make a living, they are put in situations where they have to tolerate inappropriate customer behavior. A staggering 76 percent — that’s more than three-quarters of tipped workers — have reported experiencing sexual harassment on the job. And that only got worse during the pandemic.

Number 3: Tipping is actually a relic of slavery

Tipped workers are disproportionately people of color. And Black service workers in particular consistently earn less, including tips, than their white counterparts for doing the same job.

Look, this inequity of the subminimum wage is tied to America’s history of structural racism.

Following the Civil War, tipping was used as a racist solution by employers who didn’t want to pay formerly enslaved Black workers. So by allowing them to pay their workers just in tips rather than a wage, employers were able to avoid directly paying these workers.

Number 4: Paying workers a living wage plus tips is actually better for business — and our economy.

Corporate lobbyists, particularly for the restaurant industry, warn that paying workers a full minimum wage with tips on top will be devastating to businesses. But research shows these fears are completely overblown.

So far, seven states have replaced their subminimum wage for tipped workers with a higher minimum wage that still allows for tips on top. These seven states are actually faring better than the 43 states with subminimum wages for tipped workers — both in the number of restaurants and number of people employed by restaurants. And take home pay for restaurant servers and bartenders in these states was 24% higher than in states with a wage of just $2.13 an hour.

Workers at restaurants that have scrapped their subminimum wages in favor of higher minimum wages with tips on top are more productive, happier, and less likely to quit their jobs. This alone helps business owners cut employee turnover nearly in half. This is especially important following the pandemic, when restaurants are facing historic staffing shortages because over 1 million workers have left the industry due to low pay.

So not only have higher wage states been able to maintain their industries, but workers are more productive, getting paid more, and less likely to live in poverty.

And when workers have more money, they spend more money — stimulating their local economies in the process.

And for the first time in 30 years, workers are winning on this issue, like in DC and Chicago and a dozen other states.

The bottom line is that ending the subminimum wage for tipped workers is better for workers, it’s better for business, it’s better for our economy — and it’s the right thing to do.

#Uncategorized

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atdmoney1 · 9 months

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ATD Money SalaryShield Loan

Salary advance loans (sometimes known as small dollar or payday loans) are readily available from banks and credit unions and provide an ideal alternative to predatory payday loans and high interest personal loans, if you require small sums for unexpected expenses.

Loan Shield cancels or waives loan payments up to your contract limits in the event of a protected life event, so find out more and apply now.

Interest Rates

If you find it hard to obtain funds through traditional banks, alternative lenders offer loans at more reasonable interest rates and offer flexible terms - giving you access to cash quickly.

Advance salary loans offer an effective solution for people needing money in between paychecks. They're easy to apply for and quick approval processes make them even more appealing - plus there are no prepayment penalties so early payment of your loan can always be an option!

Jupiter Salary Advance Loan provides competitive interest rates and flexible repayment schedules, offering options such as three or six equal monthly instalments with low rates of just 1.5% per month EMIs; or one lump payment with no interest charged, making repayment an easy, hassle-free experience.

Jupiter makes getting an advance salary loan easy and convenient, without the need for credit checks or lengthy paperwork processes. All that's necessary to apply is proof of identity, age and address - anything from PAN cards, Aadhaar cards, passports, driving licenses or utility bills will suffice - along with our convenient mobile app application process that makes everything simple. Once approved, loan funds will be deposited directly into your account within minutes making this the quickest way possible to borrow money!

Fees

SalaryShield Loan by ATD Money provides protection from unanticipated life events if you become unable to meet repayments due to circumstances beyond your control. While this service is optional, certain eligibility requirements, conditions and exclusions apply; please read them thoroughly prior to opting in for it. You can cancel it at any time but the remaining cost must still be covered before cancelling this coverage.

The company offers a simple application process and strives to match you with the optimal financing solution for your business. They have various funding products such as an SBA loan at competitive rates for well-qualified borrowers; with fast approval times and funding within 24 hours on some products.

Shield Funding stands out from other online lenders by not charging application or closing fees, and providing you with a fixed interest rate throughout your loan term that won't change no matter what happens with your credit or employment status. Furthermore, funds will typically arrive into your bank account in two business days or less!

ATD Money is an Indian financial services provider with more than 100 branches and 500 employees across India. Offering consumer and corporate banking, wealth management, investment services and investment advice - as well as digital financial solutions through mobile apps and website - ATD Money caters to individuals as well as businesses in over 200 cities and towns throughout India.

This company enjoys an outstanding reputation for offering high-quality loans to small businesses at highly competitive interest rates, with fast loan application processes and low default rates among their borrowers.

Small businesses looking for fast loans will find this lender an ideal solution. Specializing in working capital loans with flexible terms that are both flexible and affordable, its loan terms tend to be shorter than those offered by traditional banks - providing loans up to $5 Million!

Payments

SalaryShield Loan is an unsecured short-term personal loan you pay back in equal monthly instalments. Once you sign your loan documents, you usually have funds available in two business days or less in your bank account - use them however you wish - from paying down debt to increasing savings or fulfilling other financial goals. Your interest rate will depend on your credit history and employment history while remaining constant over the loan term - payments are automatically deducted from your salary. Hence, there's no chance of missed payments or fees going uncollected!

Timeline

SalaryShield loans usually arrive one to two business days after approval; however, if your application was approved on a Friday it could take longer as banks generally process applications on Monday mornings.

SalaryShield loans provide customers with a way to address debt and ease financial strain. Offering fixed interest rates throughout your loan's duration means no changes even when switching employers, with simple procedures and no need for guarantees; your salary itself serves as security against the loan.

Shield Funding is an alternative lending company that specializes in providing small businesses with capital. They offer merchant cash advances and unsecured business loans at competitive rates with quick turnarounds; plus offer options suitable for owners with various credit scores.

There are numerous differences between a Shield Funding business loan and a bank business loan. One obvious difference is that banks often charge higher interest rates. Also, bank loans take longer to approve and are rejected more than three out of four times; alternative lenders such as Shield Funding business loans can often provide much faster approval times and greater funding amounts - in addition to providing you with protections life events protections that allow for debt payments cancellation if affected by certain events.

#payday loans #quick cash loans #personal loans #instant loan #cash loans #loan app in india #payday loans in india #advance salary loan #fast cash loans online #loan apps

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cashappreviewus · 11 months

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What time does Cash App direct deposit hit your account?

Cash App helps its users stay ahead of time and always introduces new features. One such feature is the Cash App direct deposit, through which users can get the paychecks in their bank account. The good thing is that Cash App direct deposits are instant and fast as compared to other traditional banks. Introducing this feature was part of Cash App’s quest to increase user convenience and efficiency. Cash App allows you to quickly deposit your paycheck and other bills into your account. The direct deposit on Cash App is made available as soon as they are sent.

The most common time a Cash App direct deposit hits the bank is between two and four am, but it may take five days. This is normal and safe as long as it’s processed the same day you issue it. Nevertheless, if you have a non-US credit card, the time may take a little longer. This blog will run you through all you need to know about Direct Deposit on Cash App.

However, depending on your bank, it could take up to three days to hit your account. Before initiating a Cash App direct deposit, ensure your mobile data connection is working. If your direct deposit does not appear in your account after that time, you might have entered incorrect information, such as an incorrect CVV code, or you may have insufficient funds. If you still don’t receive your payment, check your account status online and contact Cash App support.

Does Cash App direct deposit come 2 days early?

Yes, the Cash App direct deposit may arrive up to 2 days earlier than many banks. While Cash App itself does not mention any specific time and does not support a particular time of the day on their websites, it generally takes 1-5 working days for the funds to hit your accounts. The exact time depends on when the sender releases the payment to the Cash App.

If you’re a frequent shopper, you may have noticed that the time it takes for a direct deposit to hit your Cash App account can be significantly shorter than the processing time for a traditional bank deposit. Traditional bank deposits can take up to 24 hours to process. The direct deposit on Cash App can be processed as soon as an hour after giving your employer or unemployment benefits office your account information.

The Benefits of Cash App Direct Deposit

If you need some extra money, Cash App direct deposits are an easy way to make your finances more convenient. Unlike traditional bank deposits, your money will be available almost immediately, and Cash App says that your direct deposit funds can be available up to two days sooner. Cash App is not a bank; its banking services are provided through bank partners. Its debit cards are insured by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC). Its investing services are provided by Cash App Investing LLC, a registered broker-dealer and member of the Financial Industry Regulation Authority (FINRA).

Here are some of the benefits of the Cash App direct deposit:

Fees: If you want to pay your bills without a bank account, Cash App may be the way to go. The fees associated with Cash App direct deposits depend on your service choice. Some have a lower fee for debit card payments, while others have a higher fee for credit card payments. Regardless of your choice, you should know that the fees associated with Cash App direct deposit are usually higher than those associated with bank accounts and check payments. Luckily, you can choose only to pay a few dollars to cover processing costs if you plan to use the service only for depositing money.

Limits: To make a cash deposit from the Cash App, you can first verify your identity. To do this, you must be 18 years old or older, and you must also provide your full name, date of birth, and last four digits of your Social Security number. You may also be asked to provide additional information. Once you’ve verified your identity, you can start receiving money in your account. However, if you want to increase the Cash App direct deposit limit, you must wait for the bank to process the deposit before you can deposit it.

Time frame: When it comes to the time frame for direct deposits on the Cash App, you should expect them to hit your account at midnight on the day of payment. The deposit may sometimes be delayed by up to five business days due to verification issues. If your cash app direct deposit takes longer than expected, it might be due to a technical error, such as an incorrect routing number or an account number. To fix this, visit your bank’s website and verify that your account is authorized. If the problem persists, contact your employer.

How to enable direct deposit on Cash App?

To receive payments via direct deposit on Cash App, you need to enable it. The first step to enabling direct deposit with Cash App is to set up a bank account. Also, make sure you have the Cash App card and an account and routing number. It’s free to use, and it has a routing number to facilitate deposits to your Cash App account. Then, download the Cash App to your mobile phone and set up your bank account information.

Log into your Cash App account.

Tap the Banking tab, and then select the Direct Deposit

Tap on the select Get Direct Deposit Form

Fill in all the required details in the direct deposit form, such as your employer’s details and how much you want to deposit into your Cash App account.

Recheck the email form and enter your employer’s contact information.

Check to approve and you are done.

How to use routing and account number for Cash App direct deposit?

Depending on your employer, the first deposit can take up to two business days, but it will be available as soon as it’s received. Once you’ve completed the form, you can view the status of your deposit. Alternatively, you can check if your bank has made a mistake and change it.

Once you’ve set up your account, you must enter your bank account number and routing number to receive your money. Once you’ve done that, you’ll receive a notification when your deposit has been made. Once your money has been deposited into your account, you can use it to send money to friends and family, buy bitcoins, or withdraw it to a different account. If you’re a regular bank customer, direct deposit is an excellent way to avoid the hassle of waiting months for your funds to arrive.

Are there any limits on Cash App direct deposit?

If you’re a first-time user of the Cash App, you’re probably wondering what is Cash App direct deposit limit. The answer is yes. Cash App offers direct deposits five times a day and up to $500 per month. You can find the daily limit in the Payroll section of your Cash App account. If you’re using the app to receive your paycheck, the daily limit is $10,000.

When you first sign up for Cash App, you’ll be prompted to verify your account. You’ll need to enter your full legal name, social security number, and date of birth. You’ll then be awarded greater transaction limits and the option to receive unlimited payments. This feature is free, but you should know the direct deposit limits. Those limits vary from cash to cash. For example, if you’re depositing a bank account, Cash App can only deposit up to $10,000 a day.

If you’re using Cash App to make your monthly payments, you should always check your bank account information. If there are any errors, call Cash App Support. If the bank account has insufficient funds, the transaction may take too long. Another factor can be the server. A second account may also be open at the same time. Ultimately, you can’t determine which bank account your customers will use.

What are Cash App direct deposit issues?

You may be experiencing problems with Cash App direct deposit. This could be due to connectivity problems or your employer entering the wrong details. If this happens to you, contact Cash App support to get help with the problem. There are some simple steps you can take to resolve the issue. Check the details below. If none of these steps resolves the problem, you may need to contact your employer to have it resolved. But before you do, check if your employer’s payment processing system supports Cash App.

The Cash App application you’re using may be outdated. If this is the case, you should re-install the app and try again. You can also try setting the money transfer to your bank account manually. This may fix the problem, but it may not be enough to resolve the issue. Then, you can try contacting the Cash App Support Twitter account to get more information. They seem moderately responsive to Twitter messages, but they can’t help you with any issue that may be technical.

Why is my direct deposit pending on Cash App?

If you use the Cash App to receive direct deposits from your employer, you may experience this issue from time to time. This problem usually occurs when an error occurs with the routing or account number. Fortunately, most problems with this feature are easily resolved by contacting support or your bank. A “Cash App direct deposit pending” message will appear in the transaction and cannot be fulfilled instantly.

If you face the problem of direct deposit pending on the Cash App, you may be wondering how to fix this error. This error can occur due to several reasons. Some of the reasons include your routing number and account information being incorrect. In some cases, the online bank also rejects the Cash App for security reasons. If you are unsure of the reasons for your Cash App direct deposit pending, there are a few ways to fix the error.

If you’re unable to receive your direct deposit, the first thing that you need to do is to check your mobile phone settings. If you cannot find your phone number, the problem could be related to the network. Your phone may not be receiving the signal properly.

You need to re-enter your mobile phone’s settings so that the app can properly identify your account. Moreover, you should check your bank account settings if it is not showing any results.

You may be wondering if the direct deposit you made on Cash App is still going through. The first step is to check the status page of the app. If your deposit does not appear, the account number or routing number used for the deposit may be incorrect.

If this is the case, you must make the necessary changes to the account before the deposit is processed. Another common reason for failed direct deposits on Cash App is incorrect accounting.

The Cash App direct deposit failed can also occur if your bank account does not have sufficient funds or your server is experiencing a problem. The direct deposit may not be processed until you reconnect to the Cash App server, or the recipient may be out of the country at the time of the transaction.

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