Saturday, June 23, 2012

Learning About Piece Work and Labor: Kentucky, 1963


In the summer of 1963 I worked in my hometown plastics factory, housed in a cinderblock building with a corrugated metal roof, filled with cardboard boxes, machinery, and plastic. It was often 120 degrees. This was my first on-the-job business course, an important one in which I learned about the concepts of “labor” and “piece work.”

I worked as a supply boy to about 15 women. My responsibility was to provide them with bundles of plastic garment bags on which they, using heat machines, sealed the shoulder sections. The ultimate product was the bags which enclose our dry-cleaned clothing.

These women worked piece work, hunched over hot machines in a furnace. I learned very quickly that all plastic was not created equally. The slipperier the plastic, the more shoulders could be sealed. The more shoulders sealed, the more money was to be made. Good plastic was prized. Bad plastic was to be shared, making sure no one women got all of a bad batch. I screwed up only once, and gave a bad batch to only one woman. She stood up, threw the plastic at me, called me a motherf**ker, picked up another batch, sat down, and resumed work. I was not offended. I had screwed up and knew it. So, I picked up the bad batch, threw it into the re-melt barrel and resumed my work.

These were smart, strong women, who needed the meager money they earned from back-straining, finger stressing work eight hours a day. There were no official breaks, so the small bathrooms were always clogged with smoke resulting from the quick unofficial breaks taken.

Here’s what I learned about piece work. It sucks. It does not motivate people to work harder, it causes people to get pissed off, cuss, and throw things. It does not improve productivity, it causes shortcuts to be made, decreasing quality. This has been proven time and again, but I saw it in action.

Most importantly, however, I learned that it is demeaning to the people who work.

Here’s what I learned about “labor”. When the word is used as a broad term to discuss people as opposed to money (labor and capital), it disguises the issues. To think of Edna Dunbar, Castella McDowell, Dean Wood, Nora Belle Holt, Reba Walker and all the women who worked as hard as they could, in lousy conditions, as “labor” makes it easier for the factory bosses to blame them for the companies’ shortcomings. It’s easier for owners to convince themselves to move further and further south, then to Asia and other off-shore locations in search of cheaper “labor” without having to say, “We’re looking for people who will work for nothing in lousy conditions while we continue to make the business mistakes that drive down our profits.”

These jobs were not held by “labor”—they were held by people like my mother, who used her pennies to pay for my coronet lessons as a kid, bought the white shirts I wore in the band, and paid for the food on our table. The factory provided vital jobs in a small town that was struggling to stay alive.

The company moved away in search of cheaper labor.

Since 1963, not much has changed. Laws in the U.S. have been passed that require companies to provide periodic breaks for employees. Laws in the U.S. have been passed that require working conditions to be safe and conducive to work getting done. But we continue to use words like “labor” to talk about how expensive people are—we have to cut “labor costs”—and how restrictive U.S. “labor laws” have become as we continue to look for places outside the U.S. where we can find “cheap labor” in places "friendlier to business".

I wonder how many political leaders and “job creators” had mothers and fathers who worked in sweat shops. I wonder how many job creators are creating sweat shop jobs today.

I wonder if they consider miners, teachers, fire fighters, police officers, factory workers, and other folks who work long hours to support their families and communities as “labor”, or if they, like I in that factory in1963, have had some sort of learning experience. For all our sakes, I wish for them epiphanies.

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