Fast food workers in Seattle walked off their jobs late Wednesday and Thursday. That made Seattle the seventh city where fast food workers have gone on strike in recent months. A Taco Bell server in Seattle explains here why she (along with her co-workers) walked off the job Wednesday night -- shutting down a Taco Bell restaurant. Taco Bell didn't comment, referring inquiries to the National Restaurant Association.
By Caroline Durocher
My employer has pushed and pushed my co-workers and me and gotten everything they can out of us. This week, we joined together and pushed back.
I was one of the first fast-food workers to walk off the job Wednesday night in Seattle, and on Thursday more workers are continuing to take a stand for a $15 an hour raise and the right to organize without retaliation.
We work in one of the fastest growing industries in the nation, and our companies are making huge -– even record -– profits, but we don't see enough of that money. We barely earn enough to pay for basics like rent, food and transportation to and from work.
I have worked low-wage jobs since I was 16 years old, and now, at 21, am reluctantly sharing a studio apartment with my dad, working the late shift at Taco Bell.
That's not the life I envisioned for myself three years ago, when I was working full time, while studying for an associate of arts degree. I was planning to continue my education and become a psychologist. That was the plan, and that's still the plan. But my school costs became too much of a burden, and I had to leave, just a few credits shy of my degree.
And now I feel stuck in this trap -– the trap of low-wage work.
I work the night shift at Taco Bell in Ballard –- running the register
for the drive-through, ringing up one customer while taking the order of
another. It's fast-paced, hard work, but at the minimum wage of $9.19
per hour and only 27 hours per week, I don't earn enough to make ends
meet.When I ask for more hours, my boss always says the same thing: hours are competitive -– the harder you work, the more hours you'll get. But I work hard, and I haven't gotten any more hours.
I am stuck in a tough spot. I can't get enough hours to get health insurance, but I only qualify for $16 a month in food stamps, which I finally decided wasn't even worth the transportation costs to continue to get them. I can't get a better-paying job, especially without a degree, but I can't afford to go back to school. So when I had the chance to join a group of workers starting to organize and take a stand, I jumped at the opportunity. I didn't hesitate a second.
Right now, one of my checks goes to my half of the rent, and once I buy groceries and pay my bills, there isn't really anything left to save up. I shouldn't have to barely scrape by. I should be able to start saving some money to go back to school, but I can't.
So what do I have to lose? For me and my colleagues working fast–food jobs across Seattle, the answer is, 'Nothing.' Our backs are firmly against the wall. By joining with my co-workers, I can envision a future in which I earn enough to live, eat and go back to school.
We have been pushed to the edge, and now we are taking a stand, and I could not be more excited, or more hopeful.
Caroline Durocher works at a Taco Bell in Seattle's Ballard neighborhood and is part of Good Jobs Seattle, a campaign by a coalition of groups working to raise fast-food workers' pay.
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