I was a fast-food worker. Let me tell you about burnout.
As technology ratchets up the stress, low-wage jobs have become some of the hardest in America.
If you had to make a rat depressed, how do you think you’d go about it?
(Okay, you can’t technically make a rat “depressed” — a
scientist would ask how to “create a model of depression” in rats.
Actually being depressed is exclusive to humans. But the drugs used to
treat depression in humans are developed and tested using rodents.)
So to test your new antidepressant, you need an efficient
method of making a lot of rats exhibit anhedonia — that is, making them
lose interest in things they used to enjoy, like sugar.
How do you think you’d do that?
It turns out you don’t need to traumatize them. The most
reliable protocol is “chronic mild stress.” There are many methods of
making the lives of experimental animals mildly but chronically
miserable — a cage floor that administers random electric shocks; a deep
swimming pool with no way to rest or climb out; a stronger “intruder”
introduced into the same cage. One neuroscientist actually nicknamed his
apparatus the Pit of Despair.
But they’re all variations on the same theme: remove all
predictability and control from the animal’s life. Then take notes as
they gradually lose interest in being alive.
The media mostly discusses job stress in
the context of white-collar, educated professionals. We don’t put
nearly as much time and energy into exploring the stress of unskilled,
low-wage service work — even though the jobs most Americans actually
work could be mistaken for Pits of Despair.
Perhaps it’s because as technology progresses, it tends
to make life easier for the top of the labor market — those skilled,
educated workers with decent salaries and benefits. Often overlooked is
how those same technological advances have made it possible to control
and monitor unskilled worker productivity down to the second. These
technologies are also getting more powerful, and that makes a lot of
people’s lives inescapably, chronically stressful.
It can be hard to understand the stress of having someone
constantly looking over your shoulder if you haven’t recently — or have
never — had to work a job like this. By definition, that’s most everybody with power in this country.
Even former House Speaker Paul Ryan, who has often played up the summer he spent “flipping burgers” at McDonald’s as a teenager, seems not to realize that it’s much more difficult to work fast food in 2019 than it was in 1986.
I hadn’t had a service job in a while either. But I was
curious, especially after driving for Uber for a couple of months for an
investigative piece fact-checking the claim that full-time drivers could expect to make $90,000 a year.
When my newspaper closed a few months later, I decided to try working
three jobs that serve as good examples of how technology will be used at
work in the future — in an Amazon warehouse, at a call center, and at a
McDonald’s — with the vague idea of writing a book about what had
changed. (I used my real name and job history when applying, and was
hired nonetheless.)
Even having done a lot of research, I was shocked by how
much more stressful low-wage work had become in the decade I’ve been
working as a journalist.
Take fast food, a sector that made up a huge chunk of the
post-recession jobs recovery. It’s far from the leisurely time implied
by “flipping burgers.” One of my coworkers put it best: “Fast food is
intense! And it’s stressful! You’re always feeling rushed, you’re on a
time crunch for literally eight hours straight, you’re never allowed to
have one moment just to chill.”
The factors a scientist would remove from a rat’s life to
make it depressed — predictability and control — are the exact things
that have been removed from workers’ lives in the name of corporate
flexibility and increased productivity. There’s little more relief for
many low-wage workers than for those lab rats desperately trying to keep
their heads above water.
For one thing, everything is
timed and monitored digitally, second by second. If you’re not keeping
up, the system will notify a manager, and you will hear about it.
When I used to do service work, we still mostly used
paper time cards; you could make your case to the manager if you were
late, or maybe stay a few minutes beyond your shift to make up for it.
At many modern service jobs, the digital time-clock system will
automatically penalize you for clocking in a minute after the start of
your shift or after a break. After getting yelled at for this twice
early in the month I spent working at a McDonald’s in downtown San
Francisco, I started imitating my coworkers and aiming to arrive 20
minutes before my shift just in case the train was running weird that
day. I came to resent how much time this ate up, particularly when
comparing it to the trivial difference to McDonald’s of having me clock
in at 7:31 rather than 7:30. I’ve reached out to McDonald’s for comment,
and will update this story when I receive a response.
Computers and algorithms also have a much heavier hand in
what a worker’s schedule looks like. The scheduling systems used to
staff most major retail and fast food chains have gotten extremely good
at using past sales data to extrapolate how much business to expect
every hour of the coming week. Stores are then staffed around the
predicted busy and slow times, which means workers’ schedules are often
completely different week to week.
The more recent the data, the more accurate the
prediction, which is why so many fast-food and retail workers don’t get
their schedule until a day or two before it starts. It leaves workers in
these industries unable to plan their lives (or their budgets) more
than a few days in advance.
Algorithmic scheduling also results in bizarre things
like the “clopen” — back-to-back shifts closing late and opening early
the next morning with only a few hours to sleep in between — and unpaid
quasi-shifts where workers are expected to be on call in case it’s
busier than predicted or sent home early if it’s slower.
Technology has also made understaffing a science. At my
McDonald’s, we always seemed to be staffed at a level that maximized
misery for workers and customers, as exemplified by the
constant line and yells of “Open up another register!” Not only did this
permanently strand us in the weeds, it meant that customers were often
in a bad mood by the time they got to us.
Understaffing is a widespread tactic to cut down on labor costs. For what it looks like in fast food, check out the dozens of Occupational Safety and Health Administration complaints
filed by McDonald’s workers in 2015 about deliberate understaffing at
stores in several cities. The workers claim the corporate-supplied
scheduling system understaffs stores, then pressures the skeleton crew
to work faster to make up for it, which leads to hazardous conditions
and injuries like these:
“My
managers kept pushing me to work faster, and while trying to meet their
demands, I slipped on a wet floor, catching my arm on a hot grill,” one
worker, Brittney Berry, said in a statement when the complaints were
filed. “The managers told me to put mustard on it.”
Responding to the OSHA filings, the company wrote that
“McDonald’s and its independent franchisees are committed to providing
safe working conditions for employees in the 14,000 McDonald’s Brand
U.S. restaurants. We will review these allegations.”
The statement also made a reference to Fight for $15, the
Service Employees International Union-funded campaign that had been
involved in coordinating and publicizing the complaints: “It is
important to note that these complaints are part of a larger strategy
orchestrated by activists targeting our brand and designed to generate
media coverage.” (The cases have not been resolved.)
According to a 2015 survey of thousands of US fast-food employees by the National Council for Occupational Safety and Health, 79 percent of industry workers had been burned on the job in the previous year — most more than once.
This would now include me. I worked on the now-notorious Szechuan Sauce Day, which was miserable for McDonald’s workers across the country.
We were more slammed than I’d ever seen, and as I hurriedly checked the
coffee levels between orders, one pot’s handle broke, slicing open my
finger and dumping scalding coffee all over my pants.
The thing I found the most stressful at
my three jobs was the small percentage of customers who will, for
whatever reason, just scream stuff you wouldn’t believe at you. This was
mostly at the call center; at McDonald’s, customers tended to be in a
better mood. But in person, screamers can also do things like splatter
you with honey mustard, which is a thing that actually happened in my
third week on the job.
The woman I now refer to as Mustard Lady had already been
screaming at me for a few minutes, but I was so surprised when she
nailed me in the chest with a container of honey mustard dipping sauce
that I instinctively screamed back, “Hey, fuck you, lady! What the
fuck?” before removing myself from the situation.
I got written up for that.
If you haven’t had to do it for a while, it may seem like
having to be completely submissive to customers shouldn’t be that big
of a deal. But believe me, there’s a cost associated with continually
swallowing your pride and apologizing to unreasonable jerks. “The
customer is always right” policies may be good for business, but they’re bad for humans, physically and mentally.
When Paul Ryan worked at McDonald’s in the ’80s, he might have been representative of a largely teenage sea of fast-food workers, a perception that persists today. But last time the National Employment Law Project checked, the average age of fast-food workers was 29,
and more than a quarter of workers were supporting a child. These jobs
are not just a source of teenage pocket money; they’re something adults
are trying to survive on.
The average pay for someone with the job I had is around $8 an hour
— about half of what’s needed to keep a family with two working parents
and two kids afloat. (That is, each parent would need to work two fast-food jobs.)
American culture is full of lingering afterimages of
Midwestern guys making cars and mining coal, but, to quote an excellent
headline from the Chicago Tribune, The Entire Coal Industry Employs Fewer People Than Arby’s. This is the modern working class — fast food, retail, warehousing, delivery, call centers. Service workers.
Everybody
I talked to at my McDonald’s — along with the many other fast-food
workers I interviewed — had had food items thrown at them. I got the
impression that I was the weird one for Mustard Lady being my first.
They’d been hit by nearly everything in the store: wrapped burgers,
unwrapped burgers, burger patties, McNuggets, smoothies, sodas, napkins,
straws, sauces, fries, apple pies, ice cream cones, even a full cup of
hot coffee.
Why do so many people choose to put up with this? Because some choices aren’t really choices.
In my experience, most people are
willing to make immense sacrifices to keep their children safe and
happy. In a country with a moth-eaten social safety net, health care
tied to employment, and few job quality differences between working at
McDonald’s, Burger King, or Walmart, corporations have long since
figured out that workers will put up with nearly anything if it means
keeping their jobs. This fulcrum is being used to leverage more and more
out of workers — even, ironically, the ability to spend time with their
families. Many of my coworkers were in the O’Henry-like position of
providing for families they barely got to see because of their work
schedule.
Free market capitalism doesn’t assign a negative value to
“how much stress workers are under.” It just assumes that unhappy
workers will leave their job for a better one, and things will find a
natural balance. But when the technologies that make life miserable
spread everywhere at the speed of globalization, finding
something better isn’t really an option anymore. And a system that runs
by marinating a third or more of the workforce in chronic stress isn’t
sustainable.
Chronic stress will destroy your body like doing burnouts will destroy a rental car that someone else is paying for. It’s a huge factor behind the epidemics of heart disease, obesity, autoimmune disorders, depression, anxiety, and drug misuse that afflict developed countries — the “diseases of civilization.”
And right now, corporations kind of are treating
the low-wage workforce like a rental car someone else is paying for.
Because while American jobs have gotten safer in terms of limbs caught
in machinery, individual companies are extremely unlikely to be held
accountable for workers’ long-term stress-related health problems.
They’re doing burnouts with the bodies and minds of millions of American
workers, because either workers or taxpayers will pick up the bill.
Why? Because “hard work” as an undisputed moral good is a
deep part of the American psyche. The idea of penalizing a company for
making its employees work too hard can seem ridiculous if the work
environment is safe. Plus, “flipping burgers” has been shorthand for an
easy job for decades, so it can be hard to associate that with the
constant monitoring, understaffing, and sub-living wage of modern
service work. Chronically stressful work is different from hard work. And it’s dangerous.
Should people be asked to sacrifice their physical and
mental health — and their experience of life as something other than an
exhausting, hopeless slog — for the survival of their families? Would a
moral society ask them to make this choice?
A lot of people blithely advise the poor to work their
way toward dignity and self-respect. I’d wager that none of them has
been written up for having a natural reaction to being splattered with
mustard, or had their schedule cut to 15 hours a week because they took a
sick day, or been bawled out for being one minute late. Their mental
image of work comes from the pre-internet era, and we need to stop
taking them seriously and start listening to the people on the brutal
front lines of the modern low-wage workforce. They’re very easy to find.
At McDonald’s, I asked the manager who wrote me up for
losing my temper at Mustard Lady if anyone had ever thrown food at her,
and, if so, how she’d kept it together. Was there ... a trick to it?
My manager looked at me as if I were oblivious, and responded that of course people had thrown food at her. “You have a family to support. You think about your family, and you walk away.”
Emily Guendelsberger is the author of On the Clock: What Low-Wage Work Did to Me and How It Drives America Insane.
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