My coffee shop closed its doors yesterday.
Greyson A. - Columbus
My coffee shop closed its doors yesterday.
Our business, a luxury cafe, had suffered over the previous week as the panic of coronavirus set into the community, but the bigger challenge was our parent company cutting our hours as a result. The task of sanitizing every surface after every touch and providing a safe experience for customers became that much harder when only one or two of us were on the job at a time. As that week progressed, myself and my coworkers became bitter and frustrated, knowing that our labor was providing our company’s managers the luxury of sick pay, paid time off, and the ability to work from home, while we remained in contact with the general public every day. We did the work to make the shop run, and nothing was being done to keep us safe.
I was at work when the Ohio governor, Mike DeWine, announced that all restaurants and bars would be closing at 9pm that night. The customers in the shop looked at me, alarmed, and asked me if the coffee shop would stay open. After all, carryout was still allowed!
While I smiled and told them I didn’t know yet, I was screaming inside. I had no choice but to be at work, in contact with hundreds of people per shift. The people who came in to buy our coffee were some of the richest in the city, and could have chosen to stay home or get carry-out, but instead put myself and my coworkers at risk. I have chronic respiratory problems, and members of my family are immunocompromised. Catching the virus for us would have disastrous consequences.
That night, after I’d gotten home from work, my manager called me to let me know that I had just worked my last shift. The coffee shop wouldn’t be opening the next day and would be closed for the near future, and I was out of a job.
It was the right choice to close the coffee shop, but though my job has stopped, the cost of living has not gone away. My landlord still expects rent. I still have to feed and take care of myself. Because I don’t know when I’m going to be able to get hours again, I was denied unemployment.
The mythos of capitalism is that when you work hard, you are rewarded. Good things happen to people that put their time in. But I have been put out of work through literally no fault of my own, and there’s nothing I can do to get hired again. This isn’t fair, this isn’t right. Investors are worried about their stock value plummeting, but at the end of the day they go home to their mansions and penthouses. This crisis, for me and millions of people working in hospitality, means we are quickly running out of savings and wondering if we’ll be able to keep roofs over our heads.
The need to bail out workers has never been more urgent. If myself and the 15 million American restaurant workers go bankrupt, the economy comes with us. Essential workers in healthcare, logistics, and other industries need immediate compensation for facing massive risk of infection. Our living conditions have always been more important than Wall Street’s profits, and it’s never been more important that we fight to win our futures back.
