Making Work Manly Again: Rethinking Trump's Rust Belt Chic

<Remember this guy? What he's doing today -- 

or not -- may surprise you 

(see East Village Magazine link below)>

<i.>

From rock stars to rapscallions, researchers, and everything in between, I can safely say that I've done many fascinating interviews over my decades-long career. Some of the most interesting ones, though, have happened locally, especially when some aspect of the encounter can tie in with the present.

About a decade ago or so, I interviewed Robert, one of our longtime city commissioners, who recalled how he'd started out. Having served about 30 years on the commission, Robert was regarded as its unofficial dean, since he's sat on other local boards, as well. He's not currently on the commission, but I believe he's serving as the chairman of the Housing Commission.

Like most Black men of his era, Robert went straight from high school to the foundry floor, where he became a union representative, serving on the bargaining committe, and eventually, president of his local union. Over time, he developed a parallel career as an organizer, which took him nationwide to other foundries and forges, where he advised new or existing unions about their issues.

That wasn't the hook for the story, which focused on his personal resilience -- as someone who raised about a dozen children between two marriages, including a couple who weren't his own biologically, but accepted into his family. But I couldn't resist asking Robert -- retired after 45 or so years, at several foundries -- what he thought about the decline of manufacturing, once it accelerated during the '80s.

"Man, are you kidding me?" Robert just let out a booming laugh, and shook his head. "When I started, they told us, "You'll all be out of here in two years. This plant will be gone!" That's because the foundry bought castings from Mexico, among other parts -- even in the 1950s, he noted.

When I asked how the union addressed those things, Robert shrugged. "I just took it as a challenge. We worked with the plant, they worked with us. Not everybody got what they wanted, but it was a give and take. That's how the system worked, and everybody accepted it."

As Robert pointed out, he felt fortunate to spend his whole life working in one job -- enough to provide a good pension, care successfully for so many children, and buy the small house where our interview took place, and sufficient time to serve his community. "I don't have any regrets," Robert said. "I've done the best I could, with whatever I've had."

<Found on Threads: The pitch 

that's already launching a thousand jokes...>

<ii.>

Presumably, it's the Roberts of the world that President Trump's self-dealing Commerce Secretary, Howard Lutnick, seemed to be invoking when he recently called on Americans to stand shoulder to the wheel, as it were, in gritting through his boss's on-again, off-again tariffs, cloaked and crafted in the name of reviving American manufacturing:

"You go to the community colleges, and you train people! It's time to train people not to do the jobs of the past, but to do the great jobs of the future. You know, this is the new model, where you work in these kinds of plants for the rest of your life, and your kids work here, and your grandkids work here."

You can find any number of variations on this pitch, such as Lutnick's sitdown on CBS's Sunday morning show, "Face The Nation" in April, where he said: "The army of millions and millions of human beings screwing in little screws to make iPhones—that kind of thing will come back...it's going to be automated...the tradecraft of America, is going to fix them, is going to work on them."

Got that? This is the Trumpian vision of Domestic Manifest Destiny, apparently -- no higher calling, it seems, than a lifetime spent making T-shirts and socks. Of all the goofy visions floating around Trumpworld, Lutnick's upbeat imagery of "screwing in little screws to make iPhones" ranks among the goofiest.

It's especially goofy, when you start with the obvious -- the politicos who lionize the factory floor the loudest just happen to have never spent any time there. Certainly not Trump, nor his fellow plutocratic bros like Lutnick, whose estimated net worth is $1.5 billion. Thanks to his ownership -- and subsequent sell-off -- of the financial services firm, Cantor Fitzgerald, it's safe to say he won't be making anybody's T-shirts and socks any time soon.

<The documentary that revived a genre, 

and launched a million others:

Front and back DVD covers

(DVD Exotica Blog)

<iii.>

There's a simple reason why such an inward-looking, retro-driven regime is peddling all this Rust Belt Chic, as Reason magazine's piece (see link below) suggests: "Some of the 'bring back the Rust Belt' sentiment surely has to do with a misplaced nostalgia for Main Street and all it represents more than an actual preference for work on factory floors..."

Nor are politicians the only ones who've caught that Rust Belt Nostalgia bug. Rockers like Big Country, Bob Seger, Billy Joel, John Mellencamp and Bruce Springsteen are some of the more obvious examples of artists who spent significant chunks of time chronicling the working man's anxieties and miseries, alongside a host of lesser-knowns (Joe Ely, Henry Lee Summer, The Iron City Houserockers, The Michael Stanley Band). Still other bands nod to the subject, without overtly commenting on it -- whether it's Devo's yellow-suited industrial look, or peers like the Rubber City Rebels, whose name plays on the rubber industry's prominence in their hometown (Akron, OH).

Examples of this phenomenon abound in other realms, too, such as in the '80s hit sitcom, "Roseanne," Michael Moore's breakout documentary film, Roger & Me (1989), and the writings of his close friend, Ben Hamper -- whose best-selling book, Rivethead: Tales From The Assembly Line (1992), chronicles the follies and foibles of his 11-year stint on the General Motors assembly line, from 1977 through 1988.

All this artistic earnestness has even birthed a perverse sub-genre of "ruin porn," as its detractors call it, one commonly characterized by the exploitation of industrial decay, and lacking any real context. It's a term that's often given to TV shows like VICE's "Abandoned" -- whose baseball cap-wearing, skateboarding host, Rick McCrank, points out that he does interview people, as part of exploring the impacts of his shuttered sites on the locals -- and the YouTube videos of Nick Johnson, who's earned a reputation for parachuting to various cities, their images seemingly chosen -- deliberately or not, you decide -- to fit the Trumpian narrative of decaying blue America.

Still, it's striking to see such a nostalgically-driven administration getting the basic details so consistently, and drastically, wrong. Even on a show like "Happy Days," which offers a sunny portrayal of its '50s-era time period, you never see its star character, the Fonz, urging anyone to join him at the garage where he works so tirelessly on all those cars. Quite the opposite, in fact.

How do we know? Just watch "Graduation," which aired February 8 and 15, 1977. We learn that Fonzie is secretly attending night school, so he can graduate with his longtime circle of friends -- Richie Cunningham, Ralph Malpn, Potsie. The two-parter climaxes in a stirring speech that Fonz gives at the ceremony -- once he's allowed to join -- about the importance of education: "Staying in school is cool!"

Aaayyy! Does that sound like someone resigned to a lifetime on the factory floor? Hardly. In "Live And Learn," which aired during Season Eight (11/18/80), Fonz -- fresh from a trip to Italy -- becomes a shop teacher at Jefferson High, and even flirts with growing a beard! Aaayyyy! Sit on that, Leonardo, you Renaissance nerd!

The same spirit exemplifies the major "Happy Days" spinoff, "Laverne & Shirley." Much of its comedy stems from its blue collar setting (Shotz Brewery, Milwaukee, WI), and characters engaged in various states of occupational denial. It's the type of setting where Carmine, the resident heartthrob, dreams of becoming a singing sensation, and Lenny Squiggy are angling for some kind of wider fame, well, beyond their spit-curled strangeness.

Not to be outdone, Laverne and Shirley attempt various Lucy and Ethel-style schemes to shed themselves of their jobs, too. One minute, they're humiliating themselves on a game show (the aptly-titled, "Be Silly For Dollars"), as they chase after some big cash prize. The next, they're trying to gatecrash some hoity-toity modeling agency without a portfolio, let alone a headshot.

I'm running on the stuff of teenage memory here, but Shirley's response to the snooty agency denizen's question ("Where's your portfolio?") is pure comedy gold. "We lost it," Shirley replies coolly, with all the screw-you-too poise that any seasoned fake-it-to-maker can muster. 

It's a moment that any punker, hip-hopper or DIY culture make can appreciate, for obvious reasons. But never do you hear her, or any of the gang from Arnold's Drive-In, ever say, "Wow, Shotz Brewery! What a job. I hope it never ends."

<A man and his motorboard:
Arthur "The Fonz" Fonzarelli 

ponders his factory floor-free future
(YouTube capture)>

<iv.>

Needless to say, there's a lot of reasons why Trump's Rust Belt Chic just doesn't add up. But let's start with another obvious point. Has anybody even bothered to ask the groundlings how they feel about this messianic vision of rote manual labor for life? 

I took the liberty of doing an online search, fueled by a relevant keyword phrase ("The reality of factory work/Reddit"). Here's an economy tour of what I found, with minor punctuation edits, starting with the this thread ("Why Are Factory/Warehouse Jobs Considered Bad"):

"While I am not an operator and my tasks are not physically demanding, the constant observation from management, the lack of upward movement, more punishments than bonuses or privileges, and doing the same over and over again, are literally frustrating, and kill your drive.

"Some of my seniors literally work every single day (including Saturday and Sunday), 50+ hours weekly, and do the same thing every day. If they mess up or fail to meet the prerequisites from the marketing department, they're the first to be blamed."

Or maybe you should listen to this desperate-sounding person, whose only experience is janitorial or production work ("Factory Work Is Misery"):

"This factory has pretty much given me the worst years of my life, and that's saying a lot, considering I've suffered from near crippling depression for as long as I can remember. It's broke me down both physically and mentally. It gets harder and harder to get out of bed everyday. I know I should look for something else but I live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, it's either, here, construction or retail, and unfortunately, this place pays the best by a significant margin."

And, last but not least, this observation, from a former 14-year manufacturing engineer, who doesn't see his bygone field as the place to be ("CMW: Why Manufacturing Jobs Are Not Good Jobs").

"It is largely dependent on politicians pulling some odd strings to try and recreate jobs that are obviously being replaced by automation and AI and the realities of the global economy, which is outside of any one country's control, so even if you have a job today, your chances of still having that job 5 years from now are drying up REAL fast."

Granted, this is a small sampling of the sentiment out there. But honestly, though, after a couple hours of dedicated keyword searching, beyond the usual neutral-sounding, bet-hedging non-observations -- "Depends what industry, and what plant," that sort of thing -- I have yet to find a ringing endorsement of Lutnick's vision, such as it is.

<"Oh, Jeez, Shirl, we'll never crack 

the stadium circuit, looking like this!"

"No worries, Laverne. We're fictional characters, 

so it doesn't matter. We're gonna live forever."

One of the Milwaukee duo's many bids for fame...

...doin' that "Supermarket Sweep"!

(YouTube capture)>

<v.>

But let's take the premise behind Trump's tariff blitz at face value. If American manufacturers come home, we can make more goods here, right? And if the goods come home, so will the jobs, and all the economic detox will have been worth it.  Right? Wrong, for five major reasons.

First, it's important to remember the realities of reshoring. It's a process that requires major upfront investments in property and people -- which can take one to five or more years, assuming all the ducks are in order. That's one thing to do, when prices are stable -- quite another, amid the current zigzagging on tariff policy. In the end, as experts like Kimberly Clausing tell the New York Times (see below), "I think it will just make a lot more sense to make the entire thing somewhere else, and just pay the tariff once." So much for the purpose of the mission.

Second, the look of manufacturing has changed markedly -- as you'll see in the Reddit threads, and the Reason piece, where the Economist's editor-in-chief notes the overall proportion of manufacturing workers with PhDs has risen by 50 percent since 2016: "Manufacturing is increasingly a high-skill, high-end activity." It's not a prognosis that bodes well for the "poorly educated" that Trump professes to love so dearly.

Third, the continued emphasis on AI and automation -- not only as a driver of boosting corporate profits, but also, the speed and efficiency of routine tasks -- makes any prospects of mass reshorting in the US remote. A factory that needed 500 workers can now run with 10 to 50 workers, depending on the operation. Even if "some jobs" return, that'll never happen in sufficient enough numbers to make up for the losses that happened from 1980 through 2000, when an estimated two million manufacturing jobs evaporated.

Fourth, if we really want "the good jobs" to return, we'll have to find ways of boosting union membership -- which typically drives other employers to pay higher wages. But only six percent of US workers belong to unions, which is a truly meager percentage, even compared to fellow industrialized laggards like France (10.3%), Spain (12.4%), and Australia (12.5%). 

Finally, we also need to start having honest conversations about what kind of work people want -- especially once Trump's deportation apparatus cranks to full strength, and starts emptying the construction sites, meat packing plants, orange groves, and other hard, grinding jobs that native workers typically give a pass. With unemployment running at 4.2%, it's hard to imagine diehard MAGA voters lining up to pick fruit in triple-digit temperatures -- or, for that matter, jiggling screws into iPhone plates, as Lutnick envisions:

"But millions of Americans returning to the factory floor, with flip phones in their pockets, doesn't seem like a recipe for widespread fulfillment and economic flourishing to me, nor a viable political strategy for the GOP. My hunch is that people don't like it when their living standards get drastically worse."

That reason, more than any other, is why Trump's Rust Belt Chic doesn't add up, and never will. On the bright side, Robert can still enjoy his retirement, and the Fonz can teach shop in perpetuity -- since reruns can't be offshored, nor do they ever need to be reshored, so it's a win-win all around, right? Aaayyy! --The Reckoner

Links To Go
East Village Magazine:
Ben Hamper Remembers Rivethead:
https://www.eastvillagemagazine.org/2021/06/12/profile-30-years-later-ben-hamper-remembers-the-rivethead-his-legacy-of-that-one-story-that-one-guy/

Newsweek: Howard Lutnick's Remarks

On Bringing Factories To US Face Pushback:
Howard Lutnick's Remarks on Bringing Factories to US Face Pushback

New York Times: Why Trump's Tariffs Won't Work
https://archive.ph/ewKIM

Reason: You Will Work At The Factory And You Will Like It:
https://reason.com/2025/04/30/you-will-work-in-the-factory-and-you-will-like-it/

Reddit: CMW: Manufacturing Jobs Are Not Good Jobs:
https://www.reddit.com/r/changemyview/comments/1fs7sjv/cmv_manufacturing_jobs_are_not_good_jobs/

Reddit: Factory Work Is Misery:
https://www.reddit.com/r/hatemyjob/comments/1d2vjnf/factory_work_is_misery/

Reddit: Why Are Factory/Warehouse Jobs Considered Bad?:
https://www.reddit.com/r/careerguidance/comments/1jauvzk/why_are_factorywarehouse_jobs_considered_bad/

Life's Little Injustices (Take IX): I Work Two Jobs (But Have No Money)

<That familiar sinking feeling...?>
<Picture: http://advice.careerbuilder.com/posts/8-tips-for-juggling-parttime-jobs>

Like many of these rough snapshots, this one starts simply enough. There's a gas station on the corner that I patronize semi-regularly for my pop, whenever I'm traipsing back from my latest assignment. It's also a good opportunity to check whatever stories might have run already.

Eventually, on Sunday and Monday nights, I notice a different type of cashier working there: a burly, graying gent with black horn-rimmed glasses...I'll call him Rick, whose presence here is something of a surprise. Here, you're most likely to see teen and twentysomething women -- minority, more than often not -- manning the register. By contrast, I've only seen three guys treading these particular boards. Including Rick.

Bit by bit, I get into little sidebar conversations with Rick, who doesn't seem to mind. (Anything to move the minute hand, right? Been there, done that.) More often than not, our talks focus on the election. We bond over something simple: Rick hates Clinton and Trump, and isn't voting for either of them. As I've explained here, neither do I.

Tonight, though, the talk shifts elsewhere. I pick up a paper, crack a joke about "Breaking Bad," and get ready to pay for my latest pop. "Not too sure about that one -- I watched it a few times, didn't do much for me," Rick volunteers. "I like 'Bones,' though. 'Body Of Proof,' stuff like that. That's really good."

I reach for three singles. "Well, maybe you check out 'Better Call Saul,'" I suggest. "I've been watching it three years now, and it seems well on its way to surpassing 'Breaking Bad,' since we're seeing most of those characters before the drug world overtook them."

"Yeah, now that you mention it..." Rick's fingers dance over the cash register, like they've done a million times before, always one step away from a permanent flirtation with carpal tunnel syndrome.  "I did see the first episode of that, on demand. Seemed pretty good."

"Caught any since? I know it's on Monday night, and that's when you're here, so I could see where that's a problem."

"Well, actually..." Rick curls his lower lip into a sheepish smile. "It's because I can't always keep the TV on."

I don't know how to respond, at first. Then it dawns on me: oh, shit, he means the cable TV, not the regular TV. Rick finishes ringing me up, and pushes my two two-liters over to me. "I work two jobs, but have no money," he shrugs.

I fumble for something incisive to say, but can't muster more than, "I'm sorry to hear it. Hope your situation gets better."

But that's not likely to happen in the short run, for Rick and too many millions of others like him. His fiftysomething face is one that I increasingly see at jobs like these, at church food pantries and community dinners, free dental clinics and sliding scale health care programs, the face of resignation that signals -- when you stand by them in line -- life wasn't supposed to end like this. 

As for me, I'm paddling as best as I can. What infuriates me, though, is seeing more and more graying faces lining up with me, for food, medical care and all those other necessities you can't exactly think of going without. They didn't ask to roll these crap-laden dice that have condemned them to running harder and harder in place, yet falling further and further behind.

They didn't want to play the heavily-stacked hand that sent them tumbling down the rabbit holes of disappearing jobs, steep cuts in social benefits, or the smoldering wreckage of a pension plan gone haywire. They knew what ruin lay around the corner when some higher authority punched a calculator of his own -- remember, it's usually a "he' that makes such decisions -- and punched them a ticket to permanent employment oblivion.

No, the Ricks of the world didn't expect -- nor ask for -- any of these things. But for the next four years, no matter who wins, that's exactly what they'll be expected to do. And that's what aggravates me the most. --The Reckoner

Links To Go: Click Now (Before You Need A Fifth Job):
CNN Money: I Work Four Jobs And I'm Still Struggling:
http://money.cnn.com/2013/12/12/news/economy/4-low-wage-part-time-jobs/

CNN Money: Sick Days: A Luxury
Many Hourly Workers Don't Have:

http://money.cnn.com/2013/12/06/news/new-york-sick-days/index.html?iid=EL

U.S. News & World Report: The Part-Time Recovery:
http://www.usnews.com/news/the-report/articles/2015/08/23/the-part-time-economic-recovery

Life's Little Injustices (Take VI): The Customer Is Always...Last In Line

<i.>

I remember poring over the images in my sixth-grade social studies textbook.  Our latest unit, "Life Under Communism," offered no lack of photos to distract a young boy like myself: the cardboard grey tract housing, the supermarket shelves looking so threadbare and empty, the never-ending lines to buy basic items created a pretty striking visual effect...one that suggested, "The Soviet Union? Not a cool place to visit, and you definitely don't want to live there."

The images of those serpentine lines piqued the most curiosity. If you grew up with a fully stocked refrigerator during the '70s, as most of us did, you couldn't imagine lining up to buy staples like bread, milk and eggs. If you wanted something, you asked Mom for it, and hoped that she'd remember to put it on the shopping list...that's how it seemed to work, anyway.  So why, we asked our teacher, did our Soviet counterparts line up for hours to buy goods they couldn't afford, or wound up being unavailable? 

"Well, that's because..."  Our teacher ventured.  "Everyone knows there isn't enough to go around, and most folks don't make enough money, but they still need certain things...so they line up for them, anyway."

<ii.>

My mind drifts back to the late '90s.  I'm cooling my heels in a pastel gray suburban Illinois DMV office, in an equally pastel gray suburb...where strip mall after strip mall after strip mall zips by your window, and the main streets run indefinitely, to little effect.

I have no choice, though. I'm taking the postal exam next week, and -- having moved from another state -- need a license with the Illinois seal on it. Otherwise, my chances of driving one of those blue and white postal trucks might look pretty iffy.

The line snakes out of the DMV office and onto the sidewalk outside. It's like those scenes I often witnessed in college, when folks camped outside the hip record store, hoping to snag a ticket for the tour of their choice...why did all the good shows seem to happen in the middle of winter?

By 10 a.m., we're finally inside, but the line barely moves an inch, because only three stations are open. But the employees don't allow us to cramp their style. We see them fill in for each other, so they can take their 15-minute breaks. Still, the line barely moves.

An older guy behind me starts making conversation. "I've just moved here from Iowa, and it doesn't take nearly  as long...it shouldn't be this hard." He rolls his eyes, and so do I.

Around 11:30 a.m., I finally get my turn. Apparently, my old license is suspended over an unpaid ticket, but never got a notice. This is Chicagoland, after all, whose mail service is renowned for sucking like a wind tunnel.

The doors close behind me at noon. I have some detective work to do, it seems, but that'll have to wait till Monday. I catch a bus to the farthest available point, and end up walking the remaining mile or two home.

Unlike in Chicago, bus service is a more limited proposition here, because the suburbanites don't want to make it easy for the riff raff to show up. This means me, I suspect.

[Sorry: This Space Reserved...

...For Someone Standing In Line.]

<iii.>

Fast forward to last Saturday, in my old hometown.  I have to mail a payment to the IRS, and I need the postmark showing it's gotten out by the due date. It's the bureaucratic version of Willie Wonka's Golden Ticket...minus the chocolate.

I tell The Squawker to stay home. We're going out for lunch somewhere, but it's 11:45 a.m., and our local post office doesn't close until 12:30 p.m. Plenty of time to bound in and out, right?

No such luck. The scene looks eerily familiar as I walk inside, where just one postal clerk -- there's three windows here -- struggles to expeditiously tackle the needs of these dozen-odd customers, myself included. She's pretty efficient, but hard-pressed.

At one point, a woman struggles to lift an enormous box back onto the counter for processing to its destination.  "You can put it there," the clerk says, pointing at the second window. "I've almost thrown my back out once already."

Another woman exiting the line stops to rattle off a number at the bottom of her receipt: "Call this line and tell them to get more people in here on Saturday!"

Nobody bothers to scribble down a digit. We've all seen that movie before, haven't we? I tell myself. Their teeth click-click as they cluck in sympathy, but nothing ever seems to happen, so... 

I stand on tiptoes as the line inches closer. Normally, I can see the clock positioned behind the clerk...but not today, though. It's gone, taken down by the painters working inside the building. Damn! 

When my turn finally arrives, the clerk glances at the envelope that I've dutifully pre-stamped. "Next time," she says, "you can just walk up and hand it to me."

I flash a weak smile.  "Now I know, I guess."

I walk down the ramp outside, and pause to look at the bank clock across the street. It's now around 12:20 p.m. "Squawker will love this one, I'm sure," I mutter under my breath.

[Keep Calm...Hurry Up And Wait.]

<iv.>

Over and over again, government agencies and businesses remind us -- in the same crisp, solemn tones that Winston Churchill used to reassure a wear-weary British nation -- that the customer is always right, your satisfaction is the number one priority, and so on.

Of course, it all rings hollow when they pass the inconvenience to you in a heartbeat. How many times have you fidgeted at the automatic checkout in some chain grocery store, only to find yourself standing in line -- yet again -- when the machine's whistles and bells don't work as they should?

I never did get around to driving one of those blue and white postal vans. I wonder what it would have been like...it's too late to find out now, of course.  Ah, well, I tell myself, at least we can still make our lunch date.

I switch on the ignition and try to push those grainy social studies textbook images out of my head. I've seen enough graying bureaucracy for one day.  --The Reckoner

[Congratulations....You've Just Finished This Post. And You Didn't Need To Stand In Line To Read It!]

Life's Little Injustices (Take III): "They Just Cut My Hours..."

It's one thing to read about the stark reality of Part-Time America in a news story, but quite another to confront its results face-to-face. President Obama's critics have hammered long and hard on this point, which isn't our focus here – because, quite frankly, all this” hectoring is lost on men and women who can't get full-time work, or struggle to string together part-time, temp or contract jobs for the privilege of getting by for another week or two.

The Squawker and I went on a grocery run tonight, though we both found the trip diminished by how this particular store is busily eliminating the healthier items we've enjoyed lately (such as a certain high-quality white meat turkey burger that Butterball produces).

Many conventional brand choices have narrowed drastically, as well – for example, when I went to grab a seven-inch Home Run pizza, I found only two choices (plain old cheese, or plain old sausage – look, ma, it's one from Column A, and another one from Column A)!

Of course, the prices have shot up dramatically, as well, which inspired a discussion at the checkout between Squawker and myself.

“This is the last time that we can shop here,” the Squawker muttered, as the cash register ticked off $110 – beyond where we wanted to go, so we started taking items off the conveyer belt. “This food is getting way too expensive.”

Suddenly, the cashier jumped in: “I know what you mean – I have trouble affording the food here, too.”

“Don't you get a discount?” the Squawker asked.

“Oh, sure, 10 percent – but not on groceries.” The cashier wrinkled her face. “You'd think they'd put it on something that matters. I mean, it's been me and my son for 15 years now – he's 17 – and it's hard.”

We finished sorting out how many items were going back on the floor.  The cashier gestured for me to begin writing my check.

“I imagine it takes a fair amount of footwork to afford it all...” I ventured.

“They just cut my hours at work,” the cashier frowned.

“Well how many were you getting before?” I asked.

“Oh, it was usually between 30 and 37 hours...but last week, they cut us down to 25, so I had to borrow a couple weeks' rent from my dad.” She began running my check through the reader. “I felt bad, because he had to go into his 401(k) to get it...”

“Don't feel bad,” I interjected. “This is how so many people are living now – and yours isn't the first story of this sort that I've heard.”

With a couple customers fidgeting in line behind us, that's where we had to leave the story – which doesn't come attached to a particular party label, or philosophical bias. It's just one of many accounts getting drowned out by the braying of lobbyists, the carnival barking of the political class, the clanking of uber-connected insiders rattling their tin cups at the public trough, their eyes flashing a knowing wink as they grease the proper palms, endlessly grubbing for more...and so, the drain circles round, and round, and round, with no end in sight...and no cavalry coming over the horizon. --The Reckoner

Flat Wage USA: The More Things Change, They More They (Fill In The Blank)...

I've always held vivid memories of this image, which I remember seeing in Otto L. Bettmann's book, The Good Old Days -- They Were Terrible!  While some critics accused Bettmann of going overboard with his debunking of the Gilded Age, published in 1974, the book's most cogent points focus on the glaring income inequalities that characterized the era. That's why this particular image and its caption ("Corporate greed octopus gobbles up freight for Great Railroad while unemployed handlers look on") remains so haunting, and so compelling, more than a century later.

I felt inspired to start this post after doing some research on Edith Wharton's novel, Ethan Frome (1911), of all things. The title character's frustration with his limited resources is an important subtext of the story, which focuses on his failed attempts to start a new life with his lover, Mattie, outside the confines of his marriage.  In researching the story, I came across numerous references to The Working Girls Of Boston (1884), which marked a serious attempt by the Massachusetts Bureau of Statistics of Labor's to document female workers' conditions.

Suffice to say, the conditions these "working girls" endured were horrendous -- including arbitrary bosses, cramped work areas, lengthy schedules, little time off and poor ventilation -- so we need not belabor the point here. In 1880, the bureau reported that the average working girl in Boston earned $269.07 per year. However, once she finished subtracting $261.30 for necessities (food, clothing, shelter and medical care), she took home a whopping $7.77 in discretionary income...and you wonder why everyone frowns so heavily in those 19th century sepia-toned photographs!

While nobody's suggesting that we're back in the Gilded Age -- actually, most wiseguys like yours truly argue that we're at Roaring Twenties levels of inequality -- it's no stretch to suggest that Americans are faring poorly overall in the Discretionary Income & Savings Sweepstakes. One point that the Suze Ormans of the world overlook in all their endless lectures to the groundlings -- y'know, "waste not, want not, why buy that latte when you can put it away on a condo, yada-yada-yada" -- is that, after 30-plus years of flat wages, people have little or no money left to save.

One indicator of this trend is evident from a Bankrate.com survey cited in the following Huffington Post article (see link below, or click the actual survey link for the full gory details). The figure that leaps out is this one: about 25 percent of the adults surveyed by Bankrate between June 6-9, 2013, had no cash reserves for emergencies, while roughly half said they had three months or less of funds -- well shy of the six months that experts recommend. By contrast, 72 percent of those making $75,000 per year or more had at least three months' of emergency savings, compared to 35 percent making less than that sum.

Granted, it's a small survey pool, but those are stark figures, by any measurement. The frustration is fully evident from the comments of interviewees like Kim Norton, who told the Huffington Post: "I rob Peter to pay Paul; I don't spend my money frivolously on crap; I just make sure my kids have what they need. I get really wound up thinking about how you just can't get ahead." That does seem rather unlikely for someone working "part time as a research coordinator through a temp agency" (emphasis ours), as the story suggests -- need we say more?

In many ways, that little tidbit aptly sums up where we are now, along with the never-ending parade of dubious ads from crappy for-profit colleges, gold buying shops and structured settlement purchasing outfits like JG Wentworth...do these images speak to an economy in recovery? The jury's still out on that one, we suspect.

If you're like the great majority, you're probably writing enough checks to float a raft -- noting which companies run to the bank immediately, versus which ones wait a couple days, or even a week, God forbid -- while you pray for the roof not to cave in. Needless to say, though, don't expect any lift from the political classes, because they're having too much fun to care about helping the groundlings to any meaningful degree.

As we've stated here previously, the few measures that the Obama administration has proposed -- a year-long mortgage moratorium here, begging the House of Representatives to extend unemployment there -- have been too weak, timid or half-hearted to benefit people on a massive scale. And, in real terms, whatever Obama propounds now will essentially come too little and too late, since those guys in colonial drag (The Tea PartyRepublicans, basically) have no incentive to make those dreams happen. As the old joke goes, there's a reason why second-term presidents suddenly start talking up their foreign policy accomplishments.

What's often missed in these debates, however, is that these yawning disparities bear the hallmarks of policy. In Washington, access is power, and you can tell who wields it by who's actually sitting at the table. It isn't the inner city resident whose neighborhood lacks a decent supermarket...or the retired firefighter whose pension isn't fully funded...or the senior citizen having to choose between food, or medicine...or the contract worker piecing shit job upon shit job together for the privilege of surviving another day, never mind another week.

As one of my close friends observes, it's as if Ronald Reagan won a seventh presidential term, because the trends that began when he arrived on the scene in 1980 -- help the rich get richer, let the poor stay poorer, hollow out what's left of the middle class -- are more firmly entrenched and noxious than ever. The jabbering continues apace, while relief for the average person seems farther away on the horizon than ever, amid continuing choruses to "pull yourself up by your bootstraps". However, as the customs man says at Heathrow Airport, "there's just one small matter": your bootstraps were cut long ago, when nobody was looking.  --The Reckoner

"Sometimes history takes things into its own hands." --Thurgood Marshall, Associate Justice, U.S. Supreme Court (1967-1991)

"Consolidation becomes the fourth chapter of the next book of their history. But this opens with a vast accession of strength from their younger recruits, who, having nothing in them of the feelings or principles of ’76, now look to a single and splendid government of an aristocracy, founded on banking institutions, and moneyed incorporations under the guise and cloak of their favored branches of manufactures, commerce and navigation, riding and ruling over the plundered ploughman and beggared yeomanry." -- Thomas Jefferson (A/K/A "The Guy On The Two Dollar Bill")

Links To Go (As Always...Read 'Em And Weep Some More, Eh):
Bankrate.com: June 2013 Financial Security Index Charts:
http://www.bankrate.com/finance/consumer-index/financial-security-charts-0613.aspx

Consumer Reports:
Can Singing Vikings Solve Your Cash Crunch?
http://www.consumerreports.org/cro/2010/03/can-singing-vikings-solve-your-cash-crunch/index.htm

The Economic Policy Institute:
A Decade Of Flat Wages:
The Key Barrier To Shared Prosperity And A Rising Middle Class
http://www.epi.org/publication/a-decade-of-flat-wages-the-key-barrier-to-shared-prosperity-and-a-rising-middle-class/

The Huffington Post:
75 Percent Of Americans Don't Have Enough Savings
To Cover Their Bills For Six Months: Survey:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/24/americans-savings_n_3478932.html

Some Tabloid Headlines We'd Like To See...

2008 Bank Bailout Revoked!

Newly-Uncovered Accounting Error

Returns $875B Back To U.S. Taxpayers

Bankers Sent To Federal Detention Hearings:

"It's Only Temporary," US Attorney Claims

*********************************************

White House Calls Special Joint Session 

To Overhaul Affordable Care Act Morass 

Prez: "Should Have Kept Public Option Alive:
What The Hell Was I Thinking, 

Subsidizing All These Insurance Giants?"

********************************************

Radical New Fix Unveiled to Cure 

Stubborn Unemployment Rate:

Disgraced Mortgage Barons

Now Clean Floors,Dig Ditches,Pull Weeds:

White House Puts Corporate Welfare To Work

********************************************

Mysterious Peruvian Megavirus

Blasts Content Mills And Temp Agencies

Offline, And Into Oblivion:

Ex-Contractors Chuckle:

"The Temp Nation Giveth, 

And The Temp Nation Taketh Away"

********************************************
Fast Food Workers
Arrest Ronald McDonald At Wage Protest

McDonald's Forced Employees 
To Work Without AC On Hottest Day Ever:
Groundswell Grows In Oxaca Vs. The Clown
********************************************

So Much For The 1 Percent:

Mega-Rich SUVs, Luxury Cars

Melted, Sold To Fund Nationwide Food Bank

Billionaires Bitch About Riding Subways:

Poor Hail End Of Week-Old Birthday Cake,

Stale Mac And Cheese, Tunafish Cans

And Other Crappy Food Pantry Castoffs

********************************************

So Funny You Forgot To Laugh Dept.: With so many genuine sociopolitical absurdities out there to laugh about, why did the fabled supermarket tabloids of '70s and '80s yore spend so much time -- and precious newsprint -- on the usual faded parade of two-headed babies, defrocked B- and C-list celebs, closet cross-dressing Senators, and other fabled conceits of the tabloid business?

We're not quite sure ourselves, exactly, so we decided to strike a balance in the "right" direction -- with some headlines appropriate for our times.  Now, here's the kicker...amid all these displays of banner-typed absurdity, (1) headline is totally true, and (1) headline is partially true (we've slipped in a qualifying "kicker" phrase to throw your nose off the scent -- that's how editors do it, y'know).

Give us the right answers by midnight Saturday, and you'll get a special prize of our choosing...(3) punk rock collage postcards, plus a packet of press clippings suited for our ever-so-desperate times. If not, we'll announce the results, updated right here....over the weekend.

As in Britain, "first past the post" wins -- in case of any confusion, we'll use email timestamps as the tie-breaker.  We can't make you rich and famous, but we can make you laugh, and make you a micro-celebrity here.  Surely that's worth something in these blighted times, right? --The Reckoner

UPDATE (3/30/13): Well, as it turns out, we may need to wave a few bob around next time...perhaps. It's the end of the month at Reckoner Towers, so we'll have to time our next little competition a bit differently. 

At any rate, the correct headline was #5: "Fast Food Workers Arrest Ronald McDonald At Wage Protest."  The partially correct headline was "McDonald's Forced Employees To Work Without AC On Hottest Day Ever" -- which we, shall we say, "found" somewhere -- but, to the best of our knowledge, there's no revolution brewing against McDonalds in Mexico ("Groundswell Grows In Oxaca Vs. The Clown"). 

However, the photo of Ronald brandishing the automatic weapon does hail from Mexico -- so, perhaps, something's happening that we don't know about yet. At any rate...we'll come up with another little artdisplay/competition down the road. --The Reckoner

Could You Live On A Fast Food Wage? Take The Test!

I'm (Not) Lovin It...

...And Neither Should You!

The original inspiration for this post came from surfing the web, and doing an image search for "Evil Ronald McDonald".  I laughed aloud at seeing how many images popped up, particularly of the pornographic variety...suffice to say, the distance between Ronald and Pennywise (above) is only a click or two apart.

That point aside, it's interesting to see the same tired stereotypes getting recycled in the current debate about raising the minimum wage. The Republicans, per usual, dredge up the old "pimply-faced-teens-working-for-Friday-night-pin-money" chestnut as their reason for not parting with any pennies for the cause...when they (and others like them) aren't spinning that other favorite yarn of theirs: "But...it's...a...job...killer."

Yes, plenty of jobs have gotten shot, stopped cold, frozen dead in their tracks -- the good paying ones, that is, as The New Yorker ("The Pay Is Too Damn Low," 8/12/13) points out ("five of the six fastest-growing job categories today pay less than the median wage"). A generation ago, as books like Fast Food Nation observed, the industry resembled a portrait from Bugsy Malone...that of children pretending to be adults.

Today, however, the face of many fast food restaurants, discount retail stores and similar sorts of low-wage jobs is closer to that of Happy Days's jolly father figure, Howard Cunningham -- a senior citizen (remember, that's anybody 50 and up) -- and, often, a minority -- trying to stitch together several part-time jobs for the privilege of existing another month...watching whatever dreams that they formerly entertained for themselves dying one burger flip at a time, fizzling with each fry that pops in a deep fryer.

What's even more shocking, though, is how these corporate behemoths effectively force the public to subsidize their operations. How so?  Start with the National Employment Law Project's October 2013 data brief, "Super-Sizing Public Costs: How Low Wages at Top Fast-Food Chains Leave Taxpayers Footing The Bill."  As far as I'm concerned, the following paragraph on page 3 says it all:

"According to a study by researchers at the University of California-Berkeley, more than 
half (52 percent) of front-line fast-food workers must rely on at least one public assistance program to support their families. As a result, the fast-food-industry business model of low wages, non-existent benefits, and limited work hours costs taxpayers an average of nearly $7 billion every year." [Bold emphasis: yours truly]

Once you've digested that disconcerting little nugget, scroll down to the next page and study the outsized compensation packages that (quite naturally) only go to those topping the pyramid.  McDonalds CEO, Donald Thompson, far outpaces his rivals -- with an annual salary of $13.7 million, plus $5.5 billion in dividends and stock buybacks.

Indeed, there's no frown turning upside down on the face of this particular clown, especially when you see where his nearest rival (Burger King CEO Bernardo Hees) fares in those sweepstakes, at $6.4 billion and $14.4 million, respectively. By any standard, these are astonishing figures -- enough to make even Gilded Age robber barons like Jay Gould spin with sheer giddy jealousy in their graves.

What's even more interesting, if you read the UC Berkeley study (see below), is that working full-time in these types of jobs makes no real difference.  According to the study's executive summary, roughly half of families of fast food workers pulling down 40 or more hours per week were enrolled in public assistance programs.  A staggering 87 percent don't receive any benefits from their employers, forcing social programs like Medicare -- and, ultimately, the taxpayers -- to pick up the tab.

In recent years, I haven't found myself darkening The Clown's doorstep, let alone of those of his rivals, except to use the bathroom -- and for good reason, if these studies are any indication. It's easy to rationalize away these imbalances as the price of progress, the natural outcome of a frenzied commitment to globalism that cannot be postponed for a moment.

And then, I think of the people occupying these places, all wedged together like so many matchsticks behind the fryer -- young blacks, and the odd Hispanic...single women, struggling to wring every last drop from their twenties, before those good memories slip out the back door for good...right beside their middle-aged mothers and fathers, cousins, friends and relations, who've finally grubbed their way up the management ladder to an uncertain future...praying that those extra few pennies per hour will hold off real life just a bit longer.

You've probably seen similar faces behind the fast food counter in your town, toiling for the privilege of that $8.69 per median wage noted in the UC Berkeley study...pressing their noses to the grindstone, hoping against hope that this particular clock-punching gig might actually just work out...even as they just stand on their feet, getting a little bit older, and a little bit wearier, as the air continues to hiss out of their particular balloon.

Think about them, the next time you hear all those old, excuses for continuing that grimy, grasping, back-scratching realpolitik that makes no measurable difference in the average person's life -- the song and dance of backroom dealmaking, or "Kuhhandel" ("cattle trading"), as Weimar Republic-era politicians scornfully called it.

Take the Mother Jones wage calculator (below), and then, ask yourself: could you live on what The Clown pays?  If that happens to be your situation, how are you managing that feat? And if we're really so concerned about an economic recovery, shouldn't we worry about the quality of jobs, as well as the quantity?  --The Reckoner

LINKS TO GO...AS IF YOU DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH 
SODDING, STOMACH-TURNING,  DEPRESSING NEWS TO DIGEST ALREADY:
Mother Jones (August 2013: "Could You Survive On Fast Food Wages? Try Our Calculator):
http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2013/08/calculator-fast-food-worker-income-wages-comparison

The National Employment Law Project (October 2013 Data Brief: "Super-Sizing Public Costs: How Low Wages at Top Fast-Food Chains Leave Taxpayers Footing The Bill")
http://www.nelp.org/page/-/rtmw/uploads/NELP-Super-Sizing-Public-Costs-Fast-Food-Report.pdf?nocdn=1

The New Yorker (August 2013: "The Pay Is Too Damn Low"):
http://www.newyorker.com/talk/financial/2013/08/12/130812ta_talk_surowiecki

UC Berkeley ("Fast Food, Poverty Wages: The Public Cost Of Low-Wage Jobs In The Fast-Food Industry"): 
http://laborcenter.berkeley.edu/publiccosts/fastfoodpovertywages.shtml

Where Did The Good Jobs Go?

                                [link]


Where Did The Good Jobs Go? Globalization, Free Trade And The Demise Of America’s Middle Class

“I might be doing the work of three people due to under-staffing,” McDonald’s employee Kareem Starks, a 30-year-old former Parks Department employee, told Salon. “It’s been hard trying to live off the minimum wage, $7.25, and support my two kids plus pay rent.”

Many of the older fast food workers are well-educated, with 42 percent of employees over the age of 25 having least some college education, including 753,000 with a bachelor’s degree or higher."

 

Globalization is destroying the USA economy. Honestly when young people ask me what should they do for a living or study it's hard coming up with a secure answer. Notice the number of the college degreed flipping burgers now for The Clown. ---The Squawker