Evenings and Weekends
My daughter's simple question made me (eventually) remember the people we so easily forget when we talk about work.
"This might sound like a dumb question," my daughter begins, "but do people get the day off work for the Fourth of July?"
I assure her that it's not a dumb question. Nor are any of the questions she asks with that particular preface. She asks excellent questions. "Most people get the Fourth of July off work," I reply. "Some people even take most of the week off."
Later, I thought more about this question and my answer. And frankly, Iwasn’t thrilled with my response.
I'm not sure that most people get the day off work. Most of the people we call professionals get the day off work. Most people who work in office buildings get a break. Most people who work at banks, in the government, or in the tech sector get the day off.
But most healthcare, hospitality, transportation, food service, and retail workers have to show up to work like it's any other day. And that’s a big segment of the workforce.
That was me from the time I started working until 2009.
I think it was Memorial Day of that year, almost a year from when I took maternity leave and never went back, when I noticed the profound relief and ease I felt about getting to take the day off with family. The novelty of not having to duck out of the backyard get-together early so I could put in my shift tickled some long-dormant part of my social brain. If I play my cards right, I won’t ever have to work on a holiday again!
I was 26, and my whole working life to that point had been spent in jobs that required working on holidays. Holidays were just like any other day at work. Maybe I got time-and-a-half. Maybe I got to close the store early. But mostly, I had to serve people enjoying their day off while my coworkers and I made it possible for them to spend money on stuff they didn't need.
In my last "job" job (the one I left on maternity leave), I delivered a mediocre performance review to one of my team members. This employee was a full-timer, which did come with a few "privileges," namely a fairly consistent schedule—a hot commodity in retail work. After I shared the review, they brought up their schedule. It was consistent but still included an evening shift and a weekend shift. "My dad said I really should be working Monday through Friday, nine to five, by now," they told me.
It was an odd thing to say to me—their boss—who also worked evenings and weekends and was in a similar stage of life. Shouldn't I be working that plum schedule by now, too? I understood my responsibility to the store and our customers. Why didn't they?
I’ll admit my mind was very divided at the time. I had what I can best describe as a naive and autistic perspective on job loyalty. If your job required something of you, you did what was required—nobody got special treatment. At the same time, I was painfully aware of how much our jobs extracted from us and how much they demanded while giving so little in return.
This exchange has stuck in my mind for almost twenty years—this idea that we graduate into work that doesn't demand our flexibility, our willingness to bend over backward, our capacity to subjugate ourselves to those who do get to enjoy their evenings, weekends, and holidays. At least, the "right" kind of people who do the "right" kind of work earn that privilege.
Twenty years ago, the notion that we work our way into jobs with regular schedules and paid holidays was outdated. Today, it's nearly inconceivable. Very, very few of us work 9-to-5s. Instead, we work 24/7.
Yet, even when I answer my daughter's not-dumb-at-all question, I forget. I fall back on this story that the "right" kind of people get to take holidays off work. I can forget that our entire way of life (i.e., The Economy) in the United States is built on the backs of people who work evenings, weekends, and holidays. Our ability to shop, eat out, receive deliveries, or stay in a hotel with a view of our favorite beach is made possible by a huge segment of the workforce.
My daughter's question was, no doubt, inspired on some level by her astute awareness that the world doesn't come to a stop when it's a holiday. Lots of people do work on the Fourth of July, just as lots of people work on Memorial Day, Labor Day, or even Thanksgiving. From abortion bans1 to easing child labor restrictions2 to fighting to keep people crushed by student debt3, there are those who would weaponize public policy to ensure there’s a steady supply4 of these workers. When they cry “labor shortage,” CEOs, business owners, and politicians mean there aren’t enough people willing to take on the jobs that ensure the well-off can enjoy their holidays.
So, do “most” people get to take this quintessentially American holiday off?
I'm not sure.
Some rough math via the Bureau of Labor Statistics gets me to about 28% of the employed population over the age of 16 who work in the retail and hospitality sectors, plus a few subsectors of the broad umbrella of healthcare services. This doesn't include any of the people who work at airports, bus depots, rail stations, gas stations, or toll booths. It doesn't count the truck drivers who are on the road, no matter what the calendar says.
What's certain is that when we make broad generalizations about work and its structure, we often overlook a significant portion of the workforce—the individuals who clock in during evenings, weekends, and holidays. We forget the women, people of color, and immigrants who shoulder a disproportionate amount of this work, often with minimal benefits and meager pay. The key to a more sustainable work environment for all of us is to stand in solidarity with these oft-forgotten workers.
Asking about the inequity in our employment system and the culture that surrounds it is never a dumb question.
It would be dumb not to. It’s foolish to assume we all have access to the same benefits, opportunities, and dignity when it comes to work.
It's high time we acknowledge that every individual, regardless of the work they do or whether it's officially recognized as such, deserves equal and equitable access to dignity.
We all deserve a day off. And so much more.
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House Speaker Mike Johnson: “Roe v. Wade gave constitutional cover to the elective killing of unborn children in America… You think about the implications of that on the economy; we’re all struggling here to cover the bases of Social Security and Medicare and Medicaid and all the rest. If we had all those able-bodied workers in the economy, we wouldn’t be going upside down and toppling over like this.”
It turns out people pursue higher-paying jobs when they’re free from student debt! It’s almost like debt keeps people stuck in jobs with lower wages and, most likely, far fewer benefits.
And really, not a “steady supply” but a comfortable surplus population to keep workers from amassing the power to organize and demand better.
When I worked in retail, I always volunteered to work the holiday shifts so I could get the time-and-a-half pay, and I enjoyed those days. But I didn’t enjoy that customers would come in with pitying looks and say to our faces, “I’m so sorry you have to work today.” Like… go home then? It was a weird awareness of what you’re talking about here but also a willing ignorance of what it actually means for the people they were pitying.