It's pretty simple. I've been there and have turned down work. Say you've made $400k so far in the year and want some time off to spend doing things you like. That next shift will see you make 10 hours
× $250 / hr × (1 - 0.37 - 0.113*) = $1292.50. However, you're a travel / locums physician and would be happy to work 12 hours per day, therefore your effective rate is now $1292.50 ÷ 12 hr = $107.71/hr. Since you're already sitting pretty on $400k and would like to do something else, that $2500 doesn't look so attractive.
PS Anyone seen my neighbors wallet? I want to call 911, get a pregnancy test and a turkey sandwich. My tooth hurts too. Can you fix it? I know you're not a dentist, but I ain't go no money for that and I'm waiting on insurance and they don't take Medicaid.
So much this.
I don't make Veers-caliber money, but I have turned down shifts back before the Trump tax-cuts because "it seemed silly" and my wife wanted to go see a movie. Or eat Mexican food. Or watch a baseball game.
Its funny. You tax me less, and I work more. Speaking of baseball games...
During March, I usually cut my hours back to 100 or less, because I am going to a spring training game on every day that I can. I'm that "awful" of a baseball guy. 10 hours/shift x 10 shifts = 100 hours. That's good enough, and its far cooler to see Bryce Harper smack a home run from the third row (I always sit on the first-base side). I can make up the shifts that I missed over the next month or so.
True story:
Enough time has passed for me to post this.
I took care of a few of the Pirates and Orioles during their spring training stretches in the ER. I've been a fan of the Pirates since I could locate my penis. I wear an enamel "Pittsburgh Pirates" pin on my ID badge at work. The players that I cared for pointed that out, as if I didn't recognize their name from the tracking board. Pitchers aren't that smart. You can tell. They are men of few words because.... they don't actually
know that many words. Middle infielders are bright. After all, they gotta pay attention at all times. Nobody waits on them. Took care of a middle infielder's girlfriend once about X or so spring trainings ago. Walked in the room, looked to the right, and saw a 2B/SS sitting there that I didn't expect to see. Took care of girlfriend. Dude! I've been watching you since the minors! Good luck this season! We got to B.S.'ing about the game and other related things. Gave them my number and said: "Hey, if you guys run into any trouble; give me a call. No pressure; no sweat."
Two days later, my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, so I ignore it. Voicemail indicator pops. I check it. It's 2B/SS.
Called them back. Answered some questions. Y'all good ? Yeah. She can take more of that medicine. Its not a problem. Give it another day before we reconsider things. Cool; call anytime, amigo. Good luck tomorrow.
"Hey; let me leave some tickets for you and your wife at will call."
Aw, man. I can't make any games this weekend. I'll be there next week, but the wife has a broken wrist and she doesn't wanna go. I'll shout atcha from the first base side.
"Cool. Thanks, and goodnight."
Showed up at the game next Wednesday. Shouted at 2B/SS during warmups. He sees me and pops his fist into his glove.
"Dude! Thanks so much for helping us out!"
Homeboy runs over and signs some autos for me and the surrounding fans.
"Hey; I'll see you here after the game. I want to tell you how things are going, and give you a proper thanks."
Sure, man. Sounds good. Have a good game.
I hang out after the game until the stands are empty. 2B/SS keeps his promise.
Dude! Good game!
"Hey; follow me!"
453 steps later, I'm in the locker room of the Pittsburgh Pirates. We bull**** for a bit. Homeboy tells me to sit down wherever and grab some water and Dubble Bubble while he showers up. He'll be right back. Locker room is empty anyways, so make yourself comfy.
GUYS: I'M IN THE LOCKER ROOM OF MY FAVORITE CHILDHOOD BASEBALL TEAM. I'M SITTING IN ANDREW MCCUTCHEN'S CHAIR. I'M LOOKING UP AT HIS SIGNATURE BLACK AND GOLD OAKLEY SUNGLASSES. I CONSIDERED TOUCHING THEM, BUT I DARE'D NOT. TO MY IMMEDIATE RIGHT IS STARLING MARTE'S LOCKER. A CARDBOARD BOX FILLED WITH 45 PERFECT BASEBALLS IS SITTING BELOW.
Psst. I took one.
2B/SS comes back in slacks and a CoolBase t-shirt.
I say: "Hey, whatcha up to tonight? I'll buy you a beer if you're game; the bar two blocks away has got
*good stuff* (pitcher joke)."
"Sure."
2B/SS and I stroll two blocks away to LocalBrewery. Turns out, he loved the Red Sox as a kid, and absolutely hates Dallas Keuchel because he thinks he's rude to catchers. I was also a 2B/SS in middle/high school, so we have got plenty to talk about.
"Dude, my DAD was one of those suicidal third basemen that keep walking towards the plate. He got scouted in high school; but then he got rheumatic fever and it was all over. He can still throw a man out at first with ease, and he's like 60."
"I hate it when they ask me to play the hot corner. You're going to get hurt at some point; that's for sure."
Beers are had. Beanbags are thrown. 2B/SS declines second beer in favor of rum and coke. Says Coca-cola is a big deal back home with the factory right there are all.
"Dude; where's your wife? You said something about her."
She's home with a broken wrist. Feels awful.
"Bummer. I would have liked to meet her."
We live eight minutes away from the field. I have actually timed it. If you wanna meet Mrs. Fox - get in the Elantra.
"You sure she's okay with a stranger showing up?"
You're not a stranger, dude. We have watched you for a few years now.
...
Next thing you know; we spin the five miles away to Casa de Fox in the Elantra. 2B/SS is operating the stereo like he owns the vehicle. I didn't object.
DING-DONG.
Wife opens the door. I am hiding behind 2B/SS in a deliberate prank.
Mrs.Fox: "Wwwhaaaaaat?!" [she immediately recognized him]
I pop out from behind 2B/SS.
"Hi Wifey! I brought your favorite baseball player home to see you!"
She's wearing a nightie and slippers. Excuses herself. He is really her favorite "Pirate".
COME ON IN!
Wifey walks out of her office, now appropriate. Laughs are had. Drinks are poured. Dirt is dished. Gregory Polanco is so particular about his coffee that he is the object of ridicule. Pictures are taken of me getting batting tips over a dinner plate serving as home plate.
"Hey; this has been fun - but I gotta get back to the apartment. We have an early workout."
No problem, bud. We'll get you an UBER, as we've both been drinking.
2B/SS signs a bat/ball and takes pics with us.
Hey, call me anytime if you need some quick medical advice, or just wanna drink beers.
"See you next week, bud."
I saw 2B/SS the next week, with wife in stands. We exchanged a few sentences. We still text on occasion, but not with regularity. Homeboy was traded in the offseason. Good luck, homeboy.
Moral of the story? Don't work too much. Work is cool; but other things are cooler.