The Working Poor

Those of you who read the Hon. Hedy Fry's recent email to me might recall that she said, among other things, that,

"For previous generations of Canadians, home ownership was an attainable goal for those who worked hard and saved." (Why Aren't I Feeing The Love, 11 July, 2016)

I would like to correct this innocent assumption made by the Hon. Ms. Fry.  Being a medical professional and a politician I can forgive her for her ignorance about the reality of the working poor.  No one of her social class seem to know that we exist. Not even in previous generations was home ownership attainable for just any Canadian who worked hard and saved.  There is a particular species of Canadian that almost always falls under the federal radar.  We are known also as the Chronic Working Poor (chopped-liverus exploitatius no-end-in-sightium).  I am a member of this species.  My origins are fairly typical of my genus.  A product of a broken and abusive family with few resources in sight, I had to jumpstart my adulthood at the tender age of eighteen.  There was very little family support. 

I had to work whatever job I could find for whatever employer would accept me.  Contrary to the popular opinion of poor-bashers my genus does not refuse to work, neither do we turn down employment.  For reasons often unknown to us it has often been very difficult for us to convince a potential boss to hire us, not because we lacked the skills or the experience but because we weren't seen as a good fit with the other workers.  Or because we didn't have friends or relatives or in-laws pulling for us. 

On this basis, I could not afford to finish my post-secondary education and no matter how hard I tried I wasn't able to get picked for a well-paying union job.  I had to settle for whatever I could find and ended up spending a dozen years plus as a home-support worker, pulling only a little more than minimum wage with zero benefits or job protection.  When the shit really hit the fan for a while I couldn't work anywhere.  I was too exhausted and stressed from chronic poverty.  Did I work hard?  You bet!  Did I save?  Oh don't make me throw-up!  I was pulling only a little more than minimum wage, not always guaranteed enough hours to pay the bills and would consider it a good month when I could both pay the rent and eat.

That's the way it has been for me, and for a lot of other working Canadians.  Crappy, low paying work, no benefits, no protections.  And no EI should we end up unemployed because a lot of us happen to be contract workers, or we haven't pulled enough hours to qualify, or both. I had marathon tooth-aches and my employer at the time did squat about it.  I couldn't even afford to get a tooth pulled.  Now that I live in BC Housing at least I can afford the rent, being thirty percent of my monthly income, though when you are pulling just twelve lovely bucks an hour even thirty percent is a bit much to be expected to pay for shelter.  I of course get no dental coverage at my job, where they really treat us like yesterday's chopped liver.  I have managed to rack up a few savings for dental care and for foreign vacations but only after a lot of very careful budgeting and trade offs and sacrifices (I don't eat in restaurants, don't go to concerts, plays or movies, though sometimes I'd like to, don't have a car, and don't want one, don't eat meat but I'm a happy vegetarian.)  Even  though I am luckier than some in my position I am still barely getting by with absolutely none of the benefits or supports that the middle class take for granted.

Hey, Hedy, when are you and Prime Minister Junior going to do something for the working poor?  I'm not holding my breath.