I knew this would happen. I've spent several hours texting every past order number for the last 3 months this message:
“Hello, I was recently fired from Clustertruck for telling customers that when they “tip,” the first $2.50 of it doesn't go to drivers.
What this means if if you tip $0, a driver makes $4.50. If you tip $2, the driver makes $4.50. They want you believing we make “100% of tips” as the app tells you if you try to tip $0.
The effect on drivers is a loss of money for trips that take them across town.
The effect for the kitchen is tricking you into subsidizing what they pay drivers.
I've made several thousand trips for Clustertruck, as have many drivers who were finally pushed to leave.
I ask that if you order CT, you consider if that's a model you support, and for the drivers still there, I hope you consider tipping in cash, as it's the only way a driver can approach a living wage.
Thank you for your time.”
I suppose predictably given the vast age differences between people on a college campus, I've had mostly supportive “Thanks for the info!” responses, and a few “Fuck off, the food is lit, you're salty you're fired, it's embarrassing someone your age has a job like that.”
The reason I have to keep writing is because my stomach is in knots at what I think is the kind of “inevitable” regarding people and business as usual. I think it's a really fucked up lie and I want people to know about it, and yet I'm fighting off a headache and am anxious as hell. What I consider to be doing as the right thing is considerably more annoying and nerve racking than swallowing the bullshit.
I'm worried by all the people who didn't respond. I know “the crowd” tells itself a story about why they do or don't care or why they will or won't believe what I've got to say. The “silent majority” will get the food they like and have their own problems, and will be happy to forget that remembering to tip a dollar or two in cash makes a huge difference. Because that's the posture towards most if not all things.
I find myself empathizing with a phrase I hate. “If I can just reach one person!” I know one person potentially matters. One started talking with me about passing the info along to actual labor organizers. A few have told me they don't want to order from there anymore, and many have said it's a fucked system or they'll switch to cash. I got more than one person, and I don't know how big of an impact that makes, but it still feels important. It still feels worth the anxiety and pushing my luck at the job.
It's so easy not to bother. It's so easy to keep your head down. Or, it must be for everyone but me. The world suggests that to marinate in a corrupt and morally bankrupt behavior as long as you get something out of it is the right thing to do. I asked Byron the other day if he could tell me one thing that wasn't corrupted. There are individuals for sure. There are charities that ensure money gets used exactly as it's intended. But for every one thing that isn't corrupt or is “acceptably” and “pragmatically” so, you'll get a hundred thousand that revel in their deception. This world is either designed for the devils, or a dramatic and painful tale about the last few remaining angels.
Here I want to point out that statistics about things getting better or people living longer have nothing to do with what I'm getting at. If the core is rotten, there's no amount of decoration or upgrades that change it, and disaster is looming. That core is the fear that keeps you from taking any risk, let alone with your livelihood. It's the silence and even attack against an obvious injustice. Think about that. The linguistic landscape is so fucked, injustice is no longer obvious! I'm literally chastised for having a job in this era! I'm told it's “harassment” to work or own or want for more than the next insecure person to hear about it.
My head's gonna fucking explode. There's a book's worth of shit to talk about in what's been involved with this job and how jobs and expectations have deteriorated. I wrote about the bullshit of Steak N Shake when I left there, I've detailed how weird and inappropriate the drug study environment can be and elicited a “that was very interesting” comment from a study coordinator. The cab business was its own joke. The liquor store at least kept things simple if you didn't mind potentially having a gun go off next to your ear. Kroger was unbearable. What you might say about Showplace, at least the people that stuck around had each other's backs.
I suppose we return to the idea that I want what I've already had. I don't mind working nonstop, but I want to feel like it matters or there's some kind of equitable payout. I've felt that way in the past. I want to own what I do, and have been there. I've been in environments where everyone didn't hate each other or try to take advantage, I'd like what I create to act morally and fairly as well.
I know I'm the squeaky wheel. I know I'm different and “interesting” or peculiar. But seriously, it only has to do with wanting to do shit right. It's not weird to not want to be lied to or be complicit in it. It's not weird to want a living wage. It's not weird to want to have even relative security if your job fails. It's not weird to respect your time and try to pack it with as much of what you want to do as is possible.
Except, it is in a world where most are silent, or need to be provoked and encouraged like they're hibernating bears. It's weird to be like me if you don't consider yourself interesting or having anything peculiar about you. It's weird if you never bother to learn or don't care to define what we should consider doing the right thing is in the first place! It's weird to be me if you're “comfortable” living with 4 roommates your entire life, and not because you choose to, but because you'll never make enough money no matter how far you advance. It's weird if time is as burdensome to you as it is to me, but instead of engaging it, you smoke, or get high, or play video games, or work yourself to death, or adopt a different distracting problem. It takes so much more than anyone cares to fucking give.
So many people just give themselves over. They gave up and they don't even know what it is they gave. Maybe I don't want to be too friendly to the angry old man who has the same thing to say about the shitty job every day, but I respect where he's coming from. I know he's correct. I know he'll never be less angry without my help in some fashion, and if we're going to interact, it behooves us to figure out a real and proper fix if I'm to remain sane.
Anxiety might just be a too complicated word for fear. I'm deathly afraid of catching fire. My influence happens almost automatically and accidentally. What do I do with any real power? “Real power.” It won't be an immediate shift to see how I can fuck people with it at least. I won't pour over how to get one by a distracted and struggling public. But then, I don't really want much to do with the public. It's hard, if not impossible, to juggle so many people if they're unwilling or unable to take any responsibility for themselves.
Maybe the worst part of this whole thing is it fucked up my #yearofeveryday. I didn't exercise yesterday and didn't read 5 comics. I let myself get distracted and my head filled up with all the drama from work. The “structure” I had tried to plug myself into with a routine that included work and a relative dollar amount blew up as quickly as I tried to create it. My attempt at balance blown away by an insatiable desire to not be complicit. It doesn't even feel worth asking you if it was worth it. Your silence has always spoken volumes, and makes it all the more obvious to me why I have to put myself through the bullshit.
All of it, all of the time, is a lie. It's not a thing you can talk about, it's a thing you have to feel and force to transform you. Which lies are you going to accept? What's the acceptable level at which you can betray yourself? Every fiber of my being wants me out in the street with a megaphone declaring injustice, and I'm going to roast in my confusion and headache, lying to myself about how important or consequential I can be. Lying about looking forward to the prospect of another duplicitous job. Lying about ever getting where I need to be because I'm the only one playing my game, so there can never be a winner.
Fuck everything, why do I even bother?
