I started a new job this month. Funnily enough, although the service industry has been a very prominent theme in my artwork for a while, I haven’t actually worked behind a counter in about 3 years.
During that time, I worried that it was fraudulent of me to make art about working-class interests when I was not doing wage work myself. On the other hand, it’s hard to find time and energy to make large, tedious tapestries if I’m the clock most days of the week.
Now that I’m back at work, I’m genuinely surprised by how much I’m enjoying my new job. I know I can attribute some of this to the novelty of a new workplace: learning the menu, getting to know my coworkers, meeting all the regulars. After struggling with the antisocial effects of the pandemic, it’s just nice to be around people again.
Making coffee is a craft, and it’s satisfying to build those skills on a tangible level. I can get better at pouring lattes every single time I steam milk. I can develop my palate and learn to name the flavors in different coffee varieties. It feels good to work toward something, rather than treading water at the same skill level, as I have at other jobs.
I know some of the excitement will wear off eventually. A task that was interesting the first time around will inevitably feel like pulling teeth when I do it for the fiftieth time. Boredom, my greatest enemy, will set in.
To be honest, though, tedious tasks are also part of the appeal. Doing something mindless, like polishing glassware, strokes a part of my anxious brain that needs to be soothed. Working a busy shift turns off my thoughts; like doing tough physical exercise, I get to forget I’m a person for a brief moment. I long for that kind of dissociation.
As I train for my new position, I’m reflecting a lot on my past barista job, and how much has changed in the service industry since then. Back in 2019, I met with a city-wide group of Philadelphia baristas after a wage transparency spreadsheet went viral. I looked at the spreadsheet and realized how low my wage was compared to other cafe workers in the city, and like many others, I wanted to do something about it. We met with UniteHere organizers who welcomed us to their local union hall, joined by volunteers from Dignity, a Philly Socialists independent labor union.
The ideas we discussed at that meeting seemed pie-in-the-sky at the time: what if our cafes gave us healthcare and benefits? How could we rework the tipping system to be more fair and consistent to workers? Could our employers afford to pay us a minimum wage of $15 an hour?
It was a diverse room filled with workers who had different working conditions and expectations. There were arguments over tactics, even criticisms of a barista’s privileged position within the massive coffee production chain. It felt completely overwhelming.
After the meeting, I talked to my coworkers at Green Line about issues we faced as a staff. Our paycheck direct deposits were consistently late. High turnover and lack of managerial oversight left people feeling unprepared and stressed out behind the bar. We all agreed that we could use higher pay, but most of our problems at work had solutions that wouldn’t cost our employers a penny. More than anything, we needed a seat at the table.
Of course, none of us could imagine what would happen that following spring. We were about to become “essential frontline workers,” guinea pigs for a pandemic with unknown viral effects. After the initial shutdown, our workplace reopened, and I decided to remain laid off and collect unemployment. Survivor’s guilt set in, as I felt that I was abandoning my coworkers and the promising union drive we had been working on.
Something I believe and cherish about the labor movement is that every collective action ultimately matters, even if it feels like failure in the moment. I didn’t succeed at my workplace campaign, but many of the people at that initial citywide barista meeting ended up at unionized cafe jobs.
After narrowly losing a 2019 union campaign at Cake Life Bake Shop, organizers from Dignity went on to lead a successful union drive at Korshak Bagels in South Philly. Over the following year, the organization transformed into a new local for Worker’s United, and the newly unionized workers supported drives at Philly-area chains like Good Karma, Ultimo, and Elixr. Today, there are around 150 specialty cafe workers in the union. I designed the logo for PJBWU Local 1 and I’m very proud of it!
Of course I would be remiss to not mention the rise of the Starbucks labor movement, which began in 2021 at a cafe in in Buffalo, NY. The energy, reach, and militant unity of Starbucks Workers United still feels like a dream to witness. It’s started to turn the coffee industry on its head, and maybe one day it will do the same to the food service industry as a whole. We have yet to grasp the outcome of this historic union drive, and thinking about that hopeful potential gets me out of bed on some really bad days.
At my former cafe job, I was nagged by a skeptical fear that food service workers could never take ourselves seriously enough to organize a mass movement. But now, just 4 years later, there are over 8,500 unionized baristas across the country.
The effects of the cafe workers’ movement on the industry are already palpable. It’s now common, even at some non-union shops, for baristas to get healthcare benefits. Many cafes use a progressive pay structure to reimburse workers during weeks when tips are lower than expected. Some small businesses are still crying that “no one wants to work anymore,” but most cafes have realized by now that if they want to attract labor, they need to offer a competitive wage and a tolerable work environment.
In 2019, I was told that our hourly wage maxed out at $9 per hour, even for baristas who had worked there for over a decade. At my new job, we get a 50-cent cost of living raise every six months.
I’m really excited to be back in coffee, because it’s work that I genuinely enjoy. There has been a tangible shift in the conditions that once made this work unrealistic for me and many others. I’m looking forward to seeing where the industry goes, and I feel proud to play a small part in the cafe workers movement.
Labor Intensive Recommendations
The Artist’s Way — I was recommended this creative self-help book by two writers I admire: my MacDowell friend Alex Marzano-Lesnevich and my cousin Corey Waite Arnold. So far I’m liking the morning pages.
Dave the Diver — right now every videogame has a fishing and cooking feature, but this game is perfect because it’s the ONLY thing you do. Hunt fish and sharks and use your catch to make dishes at a sushi restaurant. So satisfying!
Ordinary Unhappiness — I’ve been enjoying this psychoanalysis podcast that makes me think about how Freudian everything is always.
great starting read for my (late) morning cup of coffee and daily writing session. I thought two parts in particular were interesting: 1. how you felt like a fraud when making working class art while not working for an hourly wage; and 2. how you felt survivor bias after the pandemic for not going back to work. These two parts stuck out to me in their similarity, and how guilt plays into the life supported by the hourly-wage.