State Workers Are Hurt But Won’t Play Sick

State employees had their feelings hurt in a big way when the Legislature voted not to fund their proposed pay raises this year.

It was the first time that had been done since 1987, a year when the state faced a $30 million budget deficit.

Lawmakers have been quick to point out that the workers still can get raises. It’s just that there’s no extra money for it. So if a department has, say, a vacancy that’s not filled for a while, raises can be given out of the savings.

The assurances were less than comforting to the state’s 14,000 workers, given that legislators approved substantial pay raises for their own seasonal workers in the Statehouse - the ones who cook their meals, run their errands and type their letters.

Lawmakers gave two reasons for their stinginess: an anticipated shortfall in state tax revenues, and the threat of possible additional costs from flooding this spring. But February’s revenue figures have rebounded from the disappointing January numbers.

Gov. Phil Batt’s economists had projected a 5.5 percent increase in tax revenues in fiscal 1998, but legislative naysayers expressed doubts.

Now Batt says revenues are on track to meet his original projection.

“It’s historically been in the 5 percent area of growth,” he said. “We’re not expecting miracles here. I think in all likelihood it will approach that.”

They may be mad, but state workers have remained loyal.

When the call went out for a sickout March 5 to protest the unfunded raises, sure enough, 648 employees called in sick, according to state records. (That’s a total for everyone except university and judicial employees, who are counted separately.)

But that was actually less than the 683 who were out sick the day before - many of them victims of a nasty flu bug that made the rounds of state workers this year.

But wait ‘til August

During the final week of the legislative session, temperatures in Boise hit 78 degrees under sunny skies.

Rep. June Judd, D-St. Maries, heard the rainy, snowy weather reports from home. And had to admit that, when people asked if she was anxious to get back up north, her immediate thought was, “No!”

House floor, dance floor

There was goofiness galore on the last day of House action. To top it all off, the House pages, during their irreverent “graduation” shtick, led the representatives in the Macarena.

The suit-and-tie lawmakers weren’t very enthusiastic in their participation, but the high-school pages urged them on.

“Go, speaker!” the kids shouted in mock House-speak. “Go, lady from (District) 27!”

Tying up the session

Associated Press Boise Bureau Chief Bob Fick has a long tradition of protesting to legislators when they’ve pushed their session too far into the spring by wearing a gosh-awful bright, gaudy tie. On the last day of the House session this year, House Speaker Mike Simpson made his own protest.

“I was in there talking to him, and he just grabbed it and cut it off,” Fick said.

Brandishing scissors, Simpson snipped the infamous tie clean off. Then he gave Fick his choice of replacements.

There were cartoon ties and the like. But Fick, of course, picked the brightest one, an orange and purple job with shiny gold accents.

“I didn’t know it was a Rush Limbaugh,” Fick said afterward.

The right-wing radio personality designs his own line of ties.

“They’re expensive, too,” Fick said. “They’re like 29 bucks.”

, DataTimes MEMO: North-South Notes runs every other Saturday. To reach Betsy Z. Russell, call 336-2854, send a fax to 336-0021 or e-mail to bzrussell@rmci.net.