Lane
The Kansas Board of Regents has implemented a one-year salary and compensation freeze on three university presidents, including Emporia State President Michael Lane.
“I think that the Regents have done the right thing in regards to presidents’ compensation and that hopefully they will continue in that mode until such time that we’re able to raise the money for the rest of our staff so that we’re all treated similarly,” Lane said.
Lane’s state salary is $202,540, with a compensation cap at $213,200.
“The difference between those amounts comes from outside sources, like the foundation,” said Kip Petersen, director of government relations & communications for the KBR.
Academic affairs committee member Christine Downey-Schmidt, who was originally appointed to the KBR in 2005 by former Gov. Kathleen Sebelius, brought forth the motion because of “the difficult budget and revenue situation confronting our state, our higher education system, and our state universities.”
“I don’t think their reason (to freeze the salaries) is necessarily to help with the budget, but all of our faculty and the vast majority of our staff got no raises this year because of the budget situation,” Lane said. “The amount that a president would get in a raise wouldn’t have a significant impact on that, but it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to get a raise in a time where all of our faculty and staff are being held without raises – that’s what makes it fair and equitable.”
Wichita State President Donald Beggs’ salary is $255,298, with $277,160 the cap for compensation. Fort Hays State President Ed Hammond’s salary is $202,593 with a compensation cap at $223,860.
The salaries of the KSU, PSU and KU presidents were not included in the motion because their salaries had already been set when they were hired earlier this year.
this machine charges just $2 for a category 1 ‘Hurricane’.(Daily Break)
The Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk, VA) September 13, 2010 Pembroke Mall was unnaturally quiet.
The carpet muffled the sounds of walkers in fluorescent-white tennis shoes. The salespeople in kiosks checked their cell phones. Three shoppers lounged in green chairs, the kind of seats bored men take when their wives are browsing.
Everyday, glass-half-empty drones might spot malaise in this scene, but businessmen from O 80 Studios in Tampa, Fla., sees opportunity. The company looked at nearly identical situations and said, “These people need a little something extra in their lives. They need a better mall experience. They need a hurricane!” So now, in five malls across Hampton Roads, seven in Katrina-ravaged Louisiana and 400 nationwide, everyday shoppers in everyday malls can swipe their debit cards and experience a simulated Category 1 hurricane. site category 1 hurricane
What people want from their mall is not a pretzel or new top for this weekend’s party. They want adventure.
Simulated.
Forget that a study earlier this year claimed that, if a Category 5 hurricane struck various cities, Virginia Beach would be among the most damaged and most vulnerable in the country.
Forget that residents only two weeks ago spent hours preparing for Hurricane Earl, moving their cars, hoarding bottled water and gassing up generators, all for a light sprinkle. Hurricanes – even the threat of them – can scar the psyche.
Shoppers want to survive, to prove their mettle, to show they can handle anything Mother Nature throws at them.
So last Tuesday at Pembroke Mall, in front of Sears and a few stores down from the specialty Halloween shop, the task was clear: I must survive the hurricane simulator. go to web site category 1 hurricane
It’s about the size of two Coke machines, just 18 square feet, and costs $2. It accommodates up to four people at a time. Shoppers stared at the capsule anytime anyone walked too close.
I got in and closed the transparent sliding door.
But before I say what happened, a note about what this simulator does not do: It does not ask you to stock up on beer, or bottled water, or gas. It does not tell you that you are about to lose power. It does not force you to grill everything in your freezer. It does not say the 15-minute trip home from work is going to take 90 minutes because of tidal flooding. It does not fill with dirty water. It is, after all, a simulator.
The experience starts nonchalantly. The wind whisks in from a black fan on top of the box. The display screen reads 10 miles an hour, then 15.
I can feel the people in the cell-phone shop looking at me. I can only guess that they are admiring the pure guts required to subject myself to this artificial and furious breeze.
In my best weathered seaman’s voice, I think to myself, “It’s really coming in now.” Forty-five.
My sunglasses fall off. I don’t pick them up. It is getting harder to take a full, deep breath.
Fifty. Fifty-five. Sixty. It feels like a kiddie ride. I want more. Finally, it speeds all the way up to 78 miles an hour.
And that’s it.
Within a minute, it is over. Not so different from the real thing.
It was a spectacle. (Again, not so different from the real thing.) I stepped out, rearranged my hair, patted down my shirt, put on my sunglasses.
Did it cause scars like hurricanes past? No. Did it scare me about Category 1 storms in the future? No. Did I want a “I survived the Hurricane Simulator” T-shirt? Of course.
Mike Gruss, (757) 446-2277, mike.gruss@pilotonline.com
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