FIFTEEN DOLLARS

Minimum wage is shit, and if you want a person who clocks in and works forty hours a week to not make enough to get by, then you’re a shit person. If you think they don’t earn a proper living and respect, then I suspect you’ve never done their job.

I’ve done it, and it’s awful. I earned every penny of that three dollars and seventy five cents per hour.

You’re getting a hamburger for a dollar. It’s made of meat from a living thing that had to be born and raised and killed and slaughtered and shipped and cooked, and put on a bun made of wheat that was planted and watered and grown and harvested and milled and combined with yet more ingredients and shaped and baked, and topped with things that were planted and grown and harvested and shipped and sliced, and you order it from a person whose life is really fucking hard and it’s your fault and then you’ll complain that he wasn’t pleasant enough, cheerful enough to be serving you, and on top of that you don’t think they deserve to make enough money to pay rent, and buy groceries, and definitely not enough to have something extra to invest in the future, spend on getting an education, or put down on a car or a house? Shit person.

Fifteen-dollar living wage, for anyone working a job.

But I try to be flexible. I try to meet people halfway, so here’s an alternate plan.

How about in lieu of a living wage, every customer service person gets to choose one customer a day and punch them in the face. I think that would go a long way to improving the experience. And at the end of the week, if they didn’t punch anyone in the face, a small bag of heroin to use or sell.