I live in Detroit where the meltdown of the American auto industry is up close and personal.

My next-door neighbor Paul works for Ford, assembling bumpers. He works an eight-hour shift picking up one bumper after the other and bolting it on. He's one step away from being laid off, even though he has 16 years of seniority. A year ago, he thought he'd be able to make his way to the top of the union pipe-fitter training list, which would give him the opportunity to get a less-exhausting and better-paying job, but now it doesn't look like that will happen because the union doesn't have any opportunities for pipe-fitters.

It's not just autoworkers who are feeling the pain. The painter, who has worked for me many times over the past few years as I renovated a couple of houses, called me the other day, embarrassed. He said he hadn't worked at all in two months and wanted to know if I had anything that needed to be painted.

My boss has approved the purchase of Blackberry phones for the entire group. We all need to be accessible anywhere; and late at night as our remote team bounces through its family and social life, emails fly back and forth. There's a big uptick after kids are put to bed, and another blast right around midnight right before team members head to sleep themselves. We're always on, and the dark circles under some of our eyes attest to the strain. Is this healthy?

Probably not, and more and more people are starting to protest their boss' strongly-worded requests that we be available after our workday is over. (Not our team. We love our work! Really! You're reading this, Brad, aren't you?) It's especially testy in jobs managed by unions, whose purpose it is (after all) to look out for their members' best interest. This month ABC News and its writers have been in a big kerfuffle over answering email after hours; the Writers Guild of America, which represents the writers, has been demanding that employees receive time-and-a-half for using their Blackberries.

The WGA spokesman quoted in a New York Times article said that a few minutes of looking at emails wasn't the issue -- it's more about writing material and coordinating guests, and the like, insisting that, "people are entitled to time off the job. BlackBerrys can be liberating ... But they can also shackle people to their jobs."

ABC responded by taking Blackberries away from three of its employees (real mature, guys, take your ball and go home, won't you?), and the two parties came to a resolution June 24th (it wasn't detailed). But there are big issues at play here.

Well, it had to happen sometime. Following the success of America's Top Model, American Idol, and all the other star search shows, it was only a matter of time before someone went hunting for America's worst teacher. Unfortunately, however, this is one contest that won't be televised.

If you're like me, you probably remember the best teacher you ever had. You remember how she or he stayed after with you, put endless amounts of energy into getting you excited about your education, and generally did everything possible to make school seem less like a prison and more like an opportunity.

Still, for every George Washington, there's a Benedict Arnold and, just as night follows day, you probably had an equally memorable teacher from hell. You know the one: this is the teacher who berated you in front of everybody, gave you grades that were lower than your shoe size, and generally made every class period feel like an afternoon at the dentist. If you remember your worst teacher, now might be the moment to get your revenge. Rick Berman, a lobbyist and outspoken opponent of teaching unions, has announced a contest to determine America's ten worst educators. The finalists will each win $10,000, in return for which they will agree to resign. Presumably, this whole process will be followed by much merriment.