Working Poor In Rural USA [View all]

[davidthegnome]

When I wake up on mornings that I know I have to work, it can be overwhelmingly depressing. This isn't because I don't like working - on the contrary, I loved the jobs I had in my teens, or early twenties, when I was working for carpenters, doing yard work, doing various tasks for farmers and random odd jobs. The problem with that sort of work, is that it is sporadic at best, temporary - and often pays less than minimum wage as it tends to be "under the table". There were weeks when, earlier in my youth, I worked like a dog just to pay for gas and the occasional beer. I loved it though, because it was honest work - and because I've always enjoyed working with my hands. Until I nearly cut one of them off with a saw, anyway - but that's a different story.

Now I'm nearing thirty, with many jobs under my belt, with my grand GED education and a year of college. I live in a right to work state: Maine. What right to work really means, when it comes right down to it, is that you can be fired for looking at someone the wrong way, or for no reason at all. At will employment basically means that, provided there is no obvious discrimination or illegal action, you can be terminated just because your boss is having a bad day.

Standard pay is eight dollars an hour, which, while being slightly above minimum wage, requires you to either work full time to barely get by, or to work full time and get an additional part time job in order to avoid the necessity of state/federal aid. If you have children who depend on you, well... you're kind of screwed, without a degree or professional career.

Last weekend the manager of my workplace really let me have it. When I say I was yelled at - I mean, quite literally, that I was "yelled at", as if I were a child who had broken his Mother's favorite vase, pulled his sister's hair, and written all over the living room walls with crayon. The reason? Money. I'm "too nice", I try too hard to give people rates they can afford, I'm not strict enough with our rates - even though they are absurdly high - and I could not afford to stay at the hotel I work at for even one night. It's really ridiculous to get yelled at for selling a room for 89 dollars a night, in rural Maine, when you're supposed to charge 115. The owner wonders why business is poor....

I could do nothing but stand with my head down, nod along, and agree with my manager (all while apologizing profusely) as I was told that I was "giving away company money!". I had offered the corporate rate to a couple who's pipes had burst, even though they weren't there on business. Even though they couldn't afford 115 and it was ten below outside. Of course, in the Manager's defense, it was a rough night. A dishwasher hadn't shown up for work, or called in (we have a restaurant at the hotel) and the pipes in the fitness center had burst, making the ladies washroom facilities unavailable. I am sure that the owner yelled at the manager, who, in turn, yelled at everyone else.

The problem is that, living in a right to work state... you do not have the right to yell back. You do not have the right to speak honestly, you do not have the right to complain. Doing these things can very easily get you fired. You are expected to eat your lunch or dinner, at the desk, to abide by a "no breaks" policy, and to simply swallow it and keep quiet when your employer does something you know is wrong. You know, like making a co-worker work four months in a row without a day off.

I'm tired, all the time. Every time I make even a small mistake I need to hope I don't get fired for it. I have no health insurance, the idea of taking a vacation is laughable, as poor as I am... I live with my parents and I'm in student loan debt up to my eye balls.

I guess these are largely white people problems (complaining about conditions that those in truly desperate circumstances would envy) but... there are days when I really just want to run away somewhere, maybe another Country, maybe just go live out in the woods (too damn cold though) like a hermit. The longer I live as a member of the working poor class here in the land of the free... the more apathetic and depressed I become. One day I'll probably be forced to stop working, due to advanced age or illness - and when that happens, I'll probably join the ranks of the homeless and hungry - especially if we continue to elect republican governors and senators for our great state.

My situation is by no means the worst, but it sucks. I imagine there are people far more angry, or far more depressed than I am, who work more, who suffer more, and who are even more exhausted. It makes me wonder... when will the working poor have finally had enough? Is there a breaking point? Or will conditions continue to get worse as the price of living becomes completely unaffordable to all but the wealthy?

I am one of millions who cannot afford to live on their own, who cannot get health insurance, who would be up shit creek without a paddle if not for the generosity of family. It's not because I don't work. I'm not lazy, I'm not demanding something for nothing, I'm not trying to force rich people to buy me a house or a car. What I am... is getting angry. Not just on my own behalf, but on behalf of the millions like me. But if I try to form a union, I'll get fired and probably lynched by northern Maine conservatives.

Can't go back to school, can't find better work as there is simply none to be found here... and somehow, no matter how hard I work, I end up deeper in debt and more unhappy.

It's called the American dream, because you have to be asleep to believe it. Hard work does pay - just enough to survive. The people in this Country who work the hardest are usually the poorest, and it's damn exhausting.

Well, I guess I've ranted enough for one post. I thought maybe talking about all this would help me feel a little less stressed before work, but it actually made it worse to acknowledge how bad things suck and how I really have no other options. Boo hoo, right? I mean, I'm not starving or homeless, I have a computer and the internet. I shouldn't bitch so much. Ah well, thanks for reading.