Killing Ourselves for Cheap Plastic Crap
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I’m not afraid of hard work. From the time I was a kid selling avocados for $1 each, to slinging cocktails to housekeeping at a ranch, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty in order to make a buck.
But this factory job I’m working at for the next month is the most mind-numbing, physically exhausting work I’ve ever done. Management is angry and condescending. Many people work a second job afterward just to get by. And the conditions under which we workers are subjected to are comparable to the maquilladoras in Mexico, and the Chinese sweat shops in Bejing.
This week, as I moved cheap plastic crap off the conveyor belt and prepped it for shipment elsewhere in the U.S., it occurred to me; we don’t make anything in America anymore. We just move crap around. The crap comes here from China. We get paid to move it out to consumers. Americans buy it, but only after they’ve subjected themselves to these deplorable work conditions, so they can afford ….more cheap, plastic crap.
How did we let ourselves get here?
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