You know what’s better than a good question?
A bad one—because at least it’s honest.
Look, we get questions. Some are smart. Some are… well, let’s just say “enthusiastically accusatory.” But here’s the thing—they all help. Because if you’re asking, chances are a dozen other people are silently nodding, pretending they already know the answer. So, let’s drag those questions into the daylight, share the answer, add a little perspective, sprinkle in just enough wisdom to keep us from taking ourselves too seriously—and maybe, just maybe, get a laugh out of it along the way.
Q: Hey – what’s the deal with the people who can’t even bother logging into their Empower account? You keep writing about them. Clearly, they don’t care—but you guys do. I get that. I’m just not sure why… or why anyone else should. They’ve made their bed, right? So maybe it’s time to move on and stop spending time (and money) trying to get them to pay attention.
A: Fair question—and one we’ve heard before. Like last month. You wouldn’t happen to work with “First time writer, long time reader” would you?
Anyway, ….
Yes, some folks don’t log into their Empower account. Despite reminders, instructions, and explanations, they ignore the tools that are literally designed to protect their financial future. And yes—it’s frustrating. We get it. Boy – do we get it!
What’s their deal? Should we care? Why do we write about them?
Let’s start with the last question first. We write about them, because the alternative — that they simply don’t care about their future at all — is a hard pill to swallow.
Do people like that really exist? Maybe. There are rumors.
But here’s why we keep talking about it: because this matters. Retirement planning isn’t optional, and time is the one thing you can’t get back. If someone misses the boat today, there may not be another one coming. So even if 99% scroll past the reminder, if 1% stop, log in, and start taking ownership of their future, that’s a win we’ll gladly take.
And these reminders and articles? You’re right—they’re not owed. And frankly, at this point, they may not even be deserved. We did our part: we built the platform, delivered the message, and kept everyone in the loop. You know the drill.
To put it another way—we didn’t take anyone out of the game. You have to be playing to be benched. Some folks just never took the field.
But for those who are in the game—or even thinking about getting off the sidelines—we’ll keep showing up. Because that’s what we do and who we choose to be.
Q: My daughter went to the ER and the Plan didn’t pay. What gives?
A: Well, what would give is some context. Because unless it was a real emergency—think chest pains, not paper cuts—the Plan doesn’t cover it. And frankly, that’s how it should be.
Let’s inject a little nuance into the outrage, shall we?
When people say, “The Plan didn’t pay for the ER visit,” they tend to skip over a rather critical detail: what was the visit actually for?
Here’s the deal: the Fund covers emergency services for emergencies. You know—urgent, serious, potentially life-threatening things. Not “mildly annoying but could wait until after brunch” ailments. Yet lately, we’ve seen a rise in ER claims for things like rashes, sore throats, coughs, or the ever-popular “just to be safe.” That’s not emergency care—that’s pulling the fire alarm because someone smelled toast.
And here’s the kicker: in every single one of these cases, there were better options—urgent care centers, walk-in clinics, and actual doctors. Places people literally drove past—windows down, Taylor Swift on full blast—on their way to the ER.
And not a single person thought to call Included Health—the 24/7 telemedicine service available to every active and early retiree Plan participant. It’s on your card. It’s on the website. It’s in multiple newsletters. It’s... not a secret.
So no, the Fund didn’t pay. Not because we’re some sort of stingy overlords, but because we’re careful. The Fund is designed to support responsible, informed choices about care. Using the ER as your go-to for non-urgent issues? That’s not it.
Bottom line:
Emergencies = Covered.
Inconveniences = Options.
Entitlement ≠ A reimbursement strategy.
Q: Alright, what the hell happened to the newsletters? They used to be sharp—informative, sure—but with some fire. I’d actually look forward to reading ’em. I’d laugh, roll my eyes, and try to figure out which poor bastard you were talking about. That guessing game? That was half the fun. Now it’s all softened up. Feels like you're tiptoeing around. Why? If someone can’t be bothered to read, listen, or show up—that’s on them. You’re not here to coddle grown adults. Truth is, your stuff always got me thinking. Made me pay attention. And that’s the damn point, right? Not just to inform—but to light a fire under people so they do something with it?
A: Ah, you noticed.
Yes. The newsletters have been a bit more... sedate lately. More chamomile than cayenne. And while that may be lovely, it’s admittedly less fun to read. You’re right—we used to swing harder: insight with bite, the truth—sprinkled with humor, dipped in common sense, and delivered with a steel-toe boot to the ego when necessary.
And here’s the kicker—you nailed it. The fun wasn’t just in the information; it was in the wondering. “Who is this about?” That bit of speculative theatre? Half the joy. And if the person in question didn’t care enough to read it—well, as you rightly pointed out: that’s their problem.
The goal has always been the same: to get people thinking. Maybe laughing. Ideally acting. And for those who paid attention, it worked. You read, you laughed, you thought, acted —and that’s the whole point.
But somewhere along the way, we wondered: what if we dialed it down? Tried a softer tone? A more polished nudge instead of a sarcastic shove?
Spoiler: it didn’t move the needle. At all.
And yes, it is easier to just write the facts—short, clinical, no-frills one-liners. But here’s the problem: a portion of the population sees that simplicity as trivial... and takes it as a free pass to ignore everything.
And what's truly maddening—by which we mean scream-into-a-pillow maddening—is that some folks seem to think we write these newsletters for our own amusement. As if we’re sitting around brainstorming one-liners about deductible structures to spice up our Thursdays—because, clearly, nothing says “fun” like co-pay commentary.
Worse still? The belief that we exist to leap into action the moment someone realizes they’ve blithely ignored the rules of the Plan and now require an emergency rescue mission—complete with backdated exceptions and a unicorn.
Spoiler # 2: That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.
Then, when reality arrives—often with an appeal denial and a truckload of documentation—they’re shocked. Shocked! Outraged! Confused!
And we’re left printing nine pages of notices, email logs, and timestamped proof while someone insists, “No one ever told me.”
So, no—we haven’t gone soft. Just experimental. Briefly.
But rest assured: the sharp edge is returning. Possibly sharper. Definitely shinier. Still rooted in facts. Still aiming to make you think—maybe laugh – and, ideally, act.
Because thinking is the gateway drug to doing—and we’re all in favor of harmless addictions. And getting someone to see the whole picture or another perspective? That’s like getting a cat to swim—unlikely, unpredictable, and wildly satisfying when it happens.
So, if any of our pieces made you pause, it’s already working. Just don’t let the pause turn into a nap.
Thanks for getting it.
Q: I read in the previous newsletter that our Defined Contribution Plan was nominated for Plan Sponsor of the Year. Did we win?
A: You heard right. Out of over 900,000 defined contribution plans nationwide, the IBEW Local 697 Defined Contribution Plan made the cut. And not just the “participation trophy” cut—we were one of only 78 plans nominated. That’s less than 1% of 1% of all plans in America. Statistically speaking, you have a better chance of being struck by lightning while holding a winning lottery ticket and being hugged by a panda.
But did we win? No.
Not because our Plan isn’t brilliant—it is. Strong, comprehensive, and frankly better than most of the ones that did win.
We lost because too many people couldn’t be bothered to log in, register, or even pretend to engage.
In short—we didn’t lose on merit. We lost on… silence.
So, if you feel like thanking your unregistered coworkers for helping us miss out on national recognition… go ahead. You know who they are. We do too. Offer a slow clap, or a long, contemplative stare that says, “Truly inspiring.” A verbal and sarcastic “thanks a lot” is optional, but not inappropriate under the circumstances. But if you go there make sure you add a little eyeroll.
It’s a good thing that the true spirit of the majority in our Benefit Plans is engagement, curiosity, and genuine interest. That’s what drives progress, sparks ideas, and makes this community remarkable.
On the infinitesimal chance that you’re one of the unregistered folks reading this (and if you can, congratulations—you’re already defying the odds), here’s the truth: sitting still isn’t effort, and merely existing isn’t contribution. You’re not helping—you’re friction, slowing the Fund’s progress and your own family’s future. The upside? Realizing it is the first step toward change, and the moment you act, you start turning dead weight into forward motion.
So, … start small: aim to move from being dead weight to ballast—or even an anchor—both of which actually contribute to a ship’s journey and, importantly, don’t require a radical change on your part.
Q: I’ve been retired for 14 years, and I always appreciate the little surprises from the Board—like last year’s 13th check or a bump up in my monthly benefit. Any chance you can share what might be coming our way in 2026?
A: Short answer: Nope. No idea. It has yet to be discussed.
Long answer: your monthly pension is exactly what the Board promised when you retired. That’s your guaranteed “base pay for life.” Everything else—the 13th check, a COLA—is gravy. Discretionary. Optional. A gift, not a right.
Let’s be honest: the Board has to juggle economic rollercoasters, political chaos, and global surprises—all while keeping the Plan solvent. This isn’t Monopoly money, folks. And yes, sometimes a retiree—or two—acts like the world owes them extras, apparently treating entitlement as a full-time hobby.
Now, don’t get us wrong—the Board genuinely takes pride in surprising retirees with occasional extras. Last year’s 13th check, or past bumps to your monthly benefit… these little treats are a nod to the fact that the Board cares. But here’s the reality check: they’re discretionary, not guaranteed. Every 13th check, every COLA, every bonus costs money and impacts the Plan’s long-term stability. We can’t magic up more than what’s sustainable.
So, pause for a moment and marvel at what you have received over the past 14 years. Your base pension—that starting dollar from your first month of retirement—is rock-solid and guaranteed. That it’s been increased multiple times, with extra 13th checks along the way? That’s a story worth celebrating.
Sadly, most retirees simply grumble that the benefits are “not enough,” or treat them as something owed rather than earned. Gratitude? Rare. In fact, in the past eight years, we can count on three fingers the number of retirees who’ve expressed genuine thanks for any pension or benefit increase—and every single one was from a widow. So, ladies, from the bottom of our hearts: thank you for remembering to say thank you.
Here’s the kicker: if you truly appreciated those “little surprises,” why haven’t you said so? Too often, appreciation comes with a side order of “more, please.” What gives? Have your parents give us a call—they clearly skipped the lesson that gratitude is a tiny effort with enormous value. And yes, saying thanks actually makes people want to keep doing nice things for you.
Everything else? That’s icing on the cake… or chocolate sprinkles, because, let’s be honest, those are pretty tasty too.