The overarching theme of the past readings is work. The ability to work, and laboring; both in the factory and the hospital. For a lot of our lives, we are ingrained with the need to always be doing something; always be working.
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As a cis woman, I have personally worked in multiple jobs, primarily full of men. I gravitate towards more physical jobs, meaning I work with more men. Throughout my life, I’ve heard many phrases to try to put down a woman for expressing an opinion different from the male’s perspective. Some of the insults they use to try to shut up women are, “Go back to the kitchen where you belong.” or “Shut up and go make me a sandwich.” some men will even refer to women as objects like dishwashers. However, in the work industry, those two tasks of cooking and cleaning are dominated by men. While working in the kitchens over the years. I have had to work and train grown men twice my age. While instructing these grown men, I was constantly disrespected and was not listened to during instruction, which ended up causing safety problems. I was only treated with respect when the male manager noticed them actively ignoring and disrespecting me. He called them out and explained that I was well-trained in my job and that they needed to take me seriously since I played a role in whether they got to keep this job. During these experiences, I had men flat-out tell me that I don’t belong in the kitchen due to my gender and size, which is ironic because I’ve heard men tell me that I do belong in the kitchen. While working my shift, I had to listen to their opinions about my inability to get things done due to my body not fitting the standard for someone to work in the kitchen. I heard, “She is too weak to do this,” “She is too bubbly to work back here,” or “She is not going to make it long in the kitchen because she is too sensitive.” It made me feel like I needed to constantly prove to myself and my male coworkers that I was someone to be respected for my work ethic. I always worked the hardest, and my personality started to change to be more aggressive and louder for my male coworkers to listen to, but then I was labeled as a “bitch”. However, if I told my male coworker to do the same thing I did, he would be seen as “forward” and “direct.” It is just a simple example of how readings like Not Just the Reflexive Reflex and Throwing Like a Girl mention how we still have these situations where women are still faced with this issue that we are seen as somewhat less than compared to men because of the body women are born with and their potential capability to have children.
Out of desperation, I used to work at an establishment called “Chick-Fil-A”, where’s earth holiest chicken sandwiches came to be, and the guests are seemingly holier than God. Each day, I clocked in physically only to clock out mentally and pretend I’m playing a fast-food simulator to pass time. Usually, the script went, “Hi, welcome to Chick-Fil-A, can I have a name for your order please” and then the guest proceeded to tell me their name and their order. Periodically, I’d have a guest break the script to leave a joyful compliment such as the usual, “Keep it going!”, “Your customer service skills are excellent”, “You’re so articulate”, or “I bet I can guess your ethnicity; I’m usually really good at guessing these kinds of things”. Upon hearing these delights, I would flash a big grin and redirect the conversation to their order because we also had to keep in mind our speed of service, but how do you professionally keep your composure after working for 7 hours straight, with your back aching from not being able to sit, enduring that one co-worker who joined three weeks ago passively aggressively reminding you every minute to “pull up the cars”, and grin your way through a guest trying to guess your ethnicity like guessing the breed of a dog? The answer is you don’t because once a guest goes off-script, my mind begins to combust into flames because the amount of physical labor required for my position exceeds the wage tenfold. On top of that, I had to regulate my “own emotions that were required by [my] certain profession” (Hochschild 2). In other words, I also had to provide emotional labor. This heavy emotional labor played a huge factor in my decision to quit.
During that time, we were also required to wear masks inside, which hindered our facial expressions, so I had to be extra peppy when I spoke to customers in case they decided to leave a bad Google review or fake a complaint to get a cookie (true story). I as an employee had to “become a body on display” (Slavishak 161), in order to contribute to the friendly, attentive image of the company. I was basically a robot with a permanently etched smile that spewed out pre-programmed lines 8 hours a day. From the company’s perspective, I understand that they have a reputation to uphold because they are a business after all. The issue with that is, I am not a robot. I have a moral compass and should have the right to stand my ground when I’m being disrespected, but every time I think of shutting them down, I am reminded that I could be laid off for not tolerating racism. I am reminded that I am just a cog in the machine that can be easily replaced.
Concrete
Most of the walls are made from concrete, pre-cast into panels and weathered outdoors in North Carolina. The floors of only two rooms are made of concrete: one exhibit room and the main loading dock. The loading dock is where we’d gather to hear the featured artists speak, our employee status granting exclusive access to the secrets of their practice. The sound would bounce off the walls and concrete floor so much that I had to strain to understand. The head curator once introduced us guides to a visiting artist as “walking, talking wall labels.” I’ll never forget the rage I felt in that moment.
6/10. Not especially comfortable nor remarkable.
Where do I start? This is gonna be a post of probably the most incompetent manager that I’ve witnessed in my job at this specific retail store, let’s call him Mr. H.
A piece of background info of me is that I have been working at this store since the end of 2018.
Continue readingFor a couple of weeks, I have noticed something that has been circling my life, that something is oppression. Continue reading
My dad used to work in the coal mines of West Virginia. This was before I was born and right around the time my parents got married. His father and uncles were coal miners as well and my grandfather wished for my dad to work anywhere but the mines. Continue reading
Going forward I will keep in mind what working in retail has taught me about my own body. My limits are often defined by what it is expected that I do at my job. Yes, this is where I work, and yes I will do what is asked of me. But it might be time to take a closer look at what all of this work is really doing to my body. Continue reading
Unruly Bodies 