At the beginning of the new year, Oregon’s minimum wage increased to $7.80 per hour. This is one of the highest minimum wages in the nation. Economists, business leaders and the general public; however, are split on the idea. The primary argument against raising the minimum wage is that the practice artificially inflates prices.
As someone who has spent the majority of his working life making only slightly more than minimum wage, I realize that there are perhaps worse problems with minimum wage jobs than their pay.
During my epic college career, I’ve worked primarily in the service industry, toiling for chump change and the admiration of my superiors. What I learned from my experiences is that the service industry is thankless in myriad ways.
My first job in college was at the Gateway Mall. I worked at the arcade, handing tchotchkes to filthy children in exchange for game tickets. The place was loud, tacky and bright, fitting perfectly with Gateway’s carnival-like, bread-and-circuses aesthetic.
One day, I found shit near one of the games.
On a number of occasions, angry patrons would threaten my life over trivialities: Once, a large man with a child in tow wanted to exchange his tokens for money. I told him that the tokens were non-refundable. Then he started screaming, calling me a number of names. An argument ensued, and at a certain point the man screamed: “I’m a fucking cop! I could blow you away and no one would even know!”
I was not too keen on testing this man’s theory, so I ran to the back to call security. By the time security arrived, the man had left. There were other times when my life was threatened by the incoherently angry rabble at the Gateway Mall, leading me to ask my bosses for danger pay. They balked.
Did I mention that I had to pick up shit? In a damn arcade. How the hell did it get there? Was someone so engrossed by Tekken 3 that he decided to drop a deuce right there on the carpet? I’m not sure if it was human shit, but I’m not ruling it out.
Most of my co-workers were nice people, but one of them was obviously a pedophile. He was 30 and dating a 15-year-old girl. One time, he tried to bond with me by offering a fistful of unmarked pills. As much fun as spending the next six hours clawing at the insects crawling beneath my skin sounded, I declined the offer.
I got fired from the job after a year and a half of employment. Looking back on it, I probably deserved to get fired.
My next job was at McDonald’s. It was soul crushing on every conceivable level. I had to be to work at 6:00 in the morning. Up until that point, I didn’t know there was a 6:00 in the morning.
One night before work, I had a hankering for some chili. While pulling the lid off the can of chili, my hand slipped and the jagged edges sliced through my thumb. Blood started pumping out everyplace. I looked down at my thumb, and it was much worse than I thought. A large chunk of my thumb was dangling by a thread. I tried to play it off as no big deal, even though I clearly needed stitches.
The next day, after waking up in my own blood, I decided to go to the emergency room. They stitched my thumb back together and loaded me up on some painkillers. Of course, my superiors at McDonald’s wouldn’t allow me to skip work (diabetes on a bun won’t serve itself), so I showed up wearing my comically large thumb bandage. By the middle of my shift, my painkillers wore off, leaving me in excruciating pain.
At that job, I was constantly called in to work on my days off because the other employees were either drunk, hung-over or on the run from the long arm of Johnny Law. I was consistently kept at work past my scheduled time for leaving. The customers treated me like crap, and would heap verbal abuse on me like it was tartar sauce on their beloved Filet O’ Fish.
I quit the job after I lost my mind. I never picked up my last check because I felt dirty and abused.
I had a number of other menial jobs, including working at a pizza place, which is by far the best low-paying job I’ve ever had. Nonetheless, there was a time when one of the employees had to clean up what appeared to be a profuse amount of diarrhea that was right outside the door. That wily bastard the Incontinent Crusader had struck again.
My point, if I even have a point, is that menial jobs don’t improve as wages increase. Service level jobs crush your soul because they bring you face-to-face with other people, most of whom treat you badly. The idea of raising the minimum wage might seem like a good idea to you. However, if you feel that the people who serve you deserve more money, you should also believe that they deserve more respect, and that’s a little bit easier to give them. These jobs are generally terrible, but that doesn’t mean you should make them even worse for the people serving you: Smile, don’t complain about prices and occasionally tip, even if the person isn’t a traditional waiter. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t shit all over the place.
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