Like any other American teenager looking for some extra spending money, I was on the prowl for a summer job. After I graduated from high school, every day my mom would tell me "you need a job," and whenever I would make a snide remark about a politician advocating for the Trans-Pacific Partnership, deregulation, and tax cuts, she'd say, "You know nothing about the real world until you learn the value of the dollar... you just spout your mouth like a politician, and none of your opinions mean anything till you get out there and start making a living." As she repeated the same statements over and over, I realized that there was really nothing I could say back to her. I had never had a job. I spent all of my free time during the school year and summer time playing soccer for the United States Development Academy. I played for Chivas USA, a club where all my expenses were paid (including travel), and I never really learned to appreciate what it meant to actually work until I got an interview to be a crew member at a local Archlight in Old Town, Pasadena.
Archlight is a cinematic subsidiary of The Decurion Corporation known for its professionalism and unique perks. Advertising high-end programming, a cafe, an open bar, shorter previews, special events for members, and state-of-the art technology in sight and sound, Archlight attracts upper-class professionals, well-to-do families, and affluent young adults. The dignified aura of Archlight’s reputation led me to believe that being a crew member was going to be an easy first job. But, when I confidently walked in to the decorous front entrance exuberating posh sentiments of luxury, I quickly realized that the great reputation of Archlight isn't the glamour, the cleanliness, and the upper-class aura of the theater; on the contrary, it was the result of the incredibly hard work put in by its crew members. Watching from the theater's cafe, I saw cashiers sweating bullets as they dealt with massive lines; I saw porters washing up beer spills, butter spills, and sweeping up popcorn with an ever-present anxiety surrounding the fact that the manager didn’t want them to be seen for too long in front of the customers; I saw adults trying to sneak past ticket takers injudiciously without buying a ticket; and I saw booth members frantically calling the manager on their head sets as they ensured under-age kids with fake ID’s did not get into Rated R showings. Nervous beyond a doubt about the workload, the pressure, and the perturbation of customer service, I asked myself “what was I getting into,” and quite frankly, it was only the beginning. Upon getting hired, the next few weeks of my life were filled with endless mistakes in making popcorn; problems with variances on cashier duty; and customer complaints about spills, interruptions in movies, and my inadequacy in helping them quickly solve their urgent problems before they went into their individual theaters. And through all of this chaotic mayhem, indelible stress, and intense critical thinking. I made a meager 10 dollars an hour--minimum wage in California--and only 1,000 dollars a month, enough for probably three dates in New York City.
Sure, at the level of the individual, I learned an invaluable lesson. Work outside of the classroom is “not a cake walk.” I used to think that contemplating philosophy, pontificating global issues, and constantly rehashing math concepts was a never-ending quagmire that was undoubtedly hard and tiresome. Yet, after working a month and learning “the value of the dollar,” I learned what real hard work is: arduous minimum wage labor. To think, that people around the world, including coworkers of mine, live off of minimum wage and provide for their families. I am blessed beyond a doubt that I can furtively creep back into my bubble of theoretical academics and work my way up to jobs that pay more than minimum wage, but what about the millions of workers around the world who can’t? Is it fair that they can’t afford groceries, bills, or medical care? Is it right that they can’t provide for their families? Should their kids be subjected to the systemic never-ending cycle of poverty that comes from a lack of resources and thereby a lack of equal opportunity? Is it right that taxpayers have to pay for millions of more Americans on Welfare than they would if companies would raise the wage even slightly? I will leave it up to you to decide, but working this summer gave me a greater appreciation for the debate about minimum wage and a true understanding of the "value of the dollar."
