WAL-MART

My name is Josh Smith and I am a 23 year old from the small town of Mt. Vernon, ME. I graduated in 2004 from Stonehill College, a small liberal arts school just south of Boston, with a degree in political science. After graduation I participated in a year of service with the Holy Cross Associates, volunteering at a homeless shelter in Portland, OR. Wanting to work more with the issue of poverty, I knew it was time to try my hand at community organizing. And after months of reading and a couple of weeks planning while hiking on the Appalachian Trail, I was ready.

On October 12th, 2005 I was hired as an associate at WAL-MART Supercenter #2046 in Augusta, ME. As a temporary (and later part-time) hire, I averaged 32 hours per week at $7.40 per hour, with no benefits. My hours were erratic and I worked throughout the store as a cashier and door guard, in customer service and layaway, and at times even helping the stockmen and sales floor associates. All the while I witnessed the company cheat their employees out of benefits and raises, ignore workplace safety hazards, rig charitable-giving totals, engage in gender discrimination... It didn't take much of this for me to realize how difficult a job this truly is, especially given the intense pressure, the culture of fear, and the utter lack of respect handed down by the company. But I think what makes this job nearly unbearable is that, at the end of the day, despite working for the largest corporation in the world, these workers must return home to a life of poverty.

And as unpleasant as the job itself may have been, I had fun doing it. Inevitably it helped to know that I was at least trying to do something good, but ultimately it was the people that I befriended that made the experience worthwhile... as well as so difficult. WAL-MART reaps billions of dollars in profits by exploiting its workers and it is simply not right. The good news is that we have the power to stop the injustice. By standing up to WAL-MART and threatening the only thing they care about, their profits, we can reform this company for the better. It is a big job, so let us each begin today.

Let me just say that if you have read this whole blog from start to finish, well done! I really appreciate your reading and hope that you too will decide to hold WAL-MART responsible by not shopping there. And if you have just discovered this treasure trove, start at the beginning and work your way forward... I think you will find it worth your while. Thanks again.

Final Days

The downside of giving WAL-MART two weeks notice was that I had to work there for two more weeks. I think I made the right decision by not leaving my co-workers in the lurch, but these final days were not easy. It was really sad to say goodbye to the people I had grown so close to, knowing that I would probably never see them again. In addition to this I had to deal with a mix of puppy-dog looks and scorn from supervisors appealing to me to reconsider. Given my store’s 46% turnover for the previous year, it was hardly a surprise that they didn’t want to lose a good worker. (I had heard from several ex-associates how the store would try to woo them back, but it was rarely successful since they weren’t about to give financial incentives.) However, I was a little surprised that they still wanted me to stay after I said all these terrible things about WAL-MART.

Ironically, at the same time that they were trying to win me back, I began to be punished for my decision. After primarily being on the desk every day for eight weeks, suddenly I was banished back to the register, to self-checkouts, and worse. I arrived on the third day of this to find myself scheduled to guard the door for my entire 4pm-midnight shift: a death sentence. It was all too much to be a coincident – I was clearly being punished. The CSM who set the schedule was both new and ambitious, sending a message to everyone that he knew how the game was played. Fortunately, I was saved from this fate by my friends among the CSM's, who sent me back to the desk for my final days. Once again I had been treated differently; I had watched many others quit as I had, only to be punished or not have their two-weeks notice respected at all. (It is WAL-MART policy to immediately dismiss any associate who is going to work for a competitor, which, since the store sells everything, is every other retailer!)

Breaking the news to my friends in the store was exhausting, but good since it gave me another opportunity to explain that I was quitting because I didn’t agree with how the company treated its people. More often than not though my co-worker would respond with some variation of “who doesn’t?” then moving onto the more pressing issue of how I would eat. Of course, associates realize that WAL-MART is screwing them, they just don’t have the option that I did of up and quitting. Indeed, when I told them that I didn’t know where I would go next, inevitably, in an effort to help they would suggest that Circuit City is still hiring. Why a person would allow themselves to be exploited by their employer becomes much more clear when you consider that workers must operate with this limited perspective.

A few co-workers, however, did take my cue to open up and share their real feelings about the store. One woman admitted to me that as someone who had been trying to advance for two years now, she felt as though she should have been granted a CSM position by now. I agreed. Another friend concurred full-heartedly that WAL-MART simply doesn’t respect its workers. He asked rhetorically, why would the company refuse to schedule one husband and wife for the same shift so that they could ride into work together? Or why schedule the woman with an hour commute each way to work until 1 am? But the one who understood my reason for leaving best was my closest friend of the past four months, a veteran of seven years who was now too old to move on to another new job. Watching his savings from a past life dwindle by the day, he admitted to me that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this for. Pushing this sobering thought from his mind he wished me farewell, and donning a smile he disappeared back into the store.

Taking a Stand

I always envisioned my final exit from the store with me yelling over my shoulder as security threw me out onto the curb. Surely there would be some sort of scene -- I would quit on the spot, throwing my vest to the floor. But things had changed. Four months into my career as an associate, I realized that WAL-MART has largely insulated themselves from criticism. I like to think of Lee Scott as a hostage taker, with 1.4 million bodies piled in front of him. Let me explain: some customers who were upset about not enough registers being open would harass me about it, or if they were really clever, one of the red-vested supervisor’s. However, this was not our fault; we have no control over this and if we brought the issue to someone who did we would only get in trouble. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t help but internalize these outbursts. I knew it wasn’t my fault, and sometimes the customer would even admit that, but just being the receiver of this anger is enough to ruin your day. As much pleasure as it may have given me, a big scene would only hurt those around me, the people I supposedly cared enough about to take up this project in the first place.

So I resolved to give my two weeks notice, something I never would have thought possible. I rationalized that by doing this I would have one last opportunity to take a principled stand and air my grievances with WAL-MART to my friends in the store. But this was not a task I looked forward to since I would break the hearts of many of my friends in the store. I started with my favorite CSM. After pulling her aside on my way back from lunch, she feigned shock when I said the reason I was quitting was that I did not like how the company treated its workers. Well aware that this would be a surprise to those who had helped me climb the ladder, I had decided to frame the issue as a moral one, which came to a head after I was pushed toward joining management. I focused on the low-wages WAL-MART paid, occasionally using a secondary example like how the store heartlessly fired my fellow temp workers on the day after Christmas. Visibly upset, she called her supervisor over since management would know better how we could “take care of this.” Next thing I knew I found myself in the manager’s office debating the evils of WAL-MART with the Front-end Manager and one of the Co-Manager’s (the big boss had left for the day so I got the second-in-command.)

The co-manager hit me with the typical argument: WAL-MART pays its workers the going rate, more than the minimum wage or their competitor’s, and besides, isn’t any job better than no job at all. Biting my tongue I asked why the largest employer in the world couldn’t pay its workers enough to live off of; after all, our store was making money hand over fist! Ignoring my appeal to the people who were struggling to make ends meet, the conversation turned political and really fell apart. We went round and round about how the federal minimum wage shouldn’t be raised (it’s up to the market); how we don’t have unions at WAL-MART (“Thank God” the Front-end Manager quipped); and bizarrely, how I should join the military (they were both members of the Air Force.) The Co-Manager’s last stab was to challenge me to change the company from the inside (oh, the irony…) But when I asked if he really believed that when I became a store manager I could raise the starting wage to $10 per hour, he ducked the question. Surprisingly he later admitted that he too had once had moral reservations about the company’s practices, until he “saw the reality of the situation.” It is important to note that these are both good people, who were simply firm believers in a company that they had succeeded in.

The two would confirm my belief before the end of the evening. As the conversation wound down some half-hour later, I gave them a simple last request. Please give my position at the service desk to the woman who been at the company for a full six years, and was twice the associate I would ever be. Guarding the door for the rest of the night, I noticed that the two managers remained in the office for another 45 minutes, probably a little shaken up from my accusations. Employees want to believe, need to believe, that their employer is not evil and that their jobs are not done in vain. By and large, those who work at WAL-MART are good people, but they are rarely given the opportunity to do the right thing. That night however, those two managers did have the opportunity to see justice done, however small an instance it may have been. And they did. By the time I called it a day, the woman had exciting news for me: she had been offered a position on the service desk! That evening was the best ride home from work I had ever had -- after four months of playing their game, I finally took a stand and did the right thing.

An Impressive Coup D'état

Sam Walton believed that, “If some community, for whatever reason, doesn’t want us in there, we aren’t interested in going in and creating a fuss.” With countless communities standing up to the store and WAL-MART attempting to bullying its way in regardless, obviously times have changed. In his place Lee Scott asks rhetorically, “When you have a group of people, a small group of people, who don’t want you in a community, does that mean you aren’t going to go there?” Indeed, the changing of the guard after Walton’s death also ushered in a new era of political sophistication for WAL-MART. The head office in Bentonville now fully understands the importance of their image in a community, and desperately wants to avoid being branded an outsider (which is, of course, exactly what they are.) WAL-MART now engages in a year round political campaign to define themselves to the public, hiring hundreds of lobbyists and media consultants to work on the national and local level. This campaign takes place not only in communities with potential stores, but well-established markets such as the one I work in.

The chief tool for getting this message across was through charity work. One slow morning on the desk the head of community involvement gave me a crash course in how our store raised $143,000 for charity in the past year. All requests for donations are received in writing and then “everything goes on a gift card.” She said $25-50 certificates work better for the company since it is simpler and you know that the whole amount will be spent in the store (not to mention that the store ends up giving less actual money since a sizable percentage is the markup/profit…) In addition to this matching funds are given for on-site fundraisers, like hot dog sales, and grants are given for such things as the Teacher of the Year Award. Doing some generous math in my head I didn’t even get up to half the total on the board; where does the rest of the money come from? Well, there are the employee fundraisers she offered, but (and this was what I was looking for) a far bigger chunk comes from claims. In order to inflate the total WAL-MART tacks on more than $60,000 in annual grocery claims since some, but not all, of this is donated to local food banks. Ah ha, this was the slight of hand I was looking for!

Like anything else, this public image campaign took place on the backs of its workers. The head of community involvement had mentioned the employee fundraisers, but I knew how small scale these projects were. I have never been solicited for donations more in my life than the past three months while working at WAL-MART. There were raffle tickets, potluck dinners, and flat out monetary donations, going to Barbara Bush’s Children’s Miracle Network, Law Enforcement’s Torch Run for the Special Olympics, and the Sunshine Fund. The last of these is the most interesting since the Sunshine Fund goes to associates-in-need in our store. Generally the associate-in-need would be nameless, but one of the recipients I did know had gotten really sick and was left with unaffordable bills for what the health plan would not cover. Obviously these fundraisers that targeted already destitute employees weren’t huge money makers, but I was surprised to find that employees pieced together $200 out-of-pocket and the Sunshine Fund chipped in another $100 for my friend. It was touching to see how readily my co-workers would give for one of their own, perhaps thinking of how close they were to being in the same position. I couldn’t help but become intensely angry at the irony of the whole situation. Associates who were paid so little were asked to give on WAL-MART’s behalf, to enhance the store’s image and pick up the slack for its employees living in poverty.

But the campaign seemed to be working. Our Supercenter was the most profitable in the state and was constantly receiving favorable press. The pinnacle came when our store manager was named Business Person of the Year by the county’s Chamber of Commerce. Recognized for the stores donations to charity and his personal community involvement, he was rewarded with a banquet in his honor. It was an impressive coup d'état, even by WAL-MART standards.

Struggling in the Service Economy

As I entered the forth month of my tenure in the store, the toll of the job was beginning to show. I was tired and that long trudge across the parking lot to the main doors was becoming more difficult by the day. It was now a struggle to find the energy to strike up conversations in the break room and keep up with my journal entries like I had when I first started working at the store. On the job, I felt like I had become a different person, and not exactly a change for the better. No longer did I appreciate my interactions with people, instead I had become aloof and almost standoffish with customers. Believe it or not, I couldn’t help but bring the job home with me. Friends who called late at night would be horrified when I groggily reverted back to my nightmare of doing returns at WAL-MART. All of this and I didn’t even have the economic worries that my co-workers had to grapple with.

In the best of times, it was difficult to make ends meet with WAL-MART’s wages… and these were hardly the best of times. Despite our President’s rosy forecasts, where I was the economy wasn’t doing us any favors. For countless employees, WAL-MART marked their first venture into retail after jobs dried up in manufacturing, construction, and even the high tech field. A close friend of mine had this happen after his business doing contract plumbing and electrical work petered out during a lull in the economy; now he found himself getting poorer by the month after whittling through all of his savings. Some workers would try to garner the needed extra income by picking up a second job, whether it be in fast-food restaurants or freelance positions. On top of this, high prices at the pump and for heating oil hit the working poor particularly hard. There were many associates like myself who commuted an hour roundtrip every day, not to mention the CSM who bemoaned the fact that she would have to sell her few shares of stock in order to pay for oil, again. For several friends I watched personal problems – from mysterious illnesses to car troubles – completely disrupt this tight-rope act, throwing them into desperate straits. It was into this environment that H&R Block set-up shop immediately after Christmas, ushering in WAL-MART's self-proclaimed "Tax Season." Associates and customers alike would readily sign on for their "Instant Money Refund Anticipation Loans," knowing it was a scam, but being too desperate to care.

This bleak picture became even more clear on payday, when I would get to cash the paychecks of many of my co-workers (a huge perk of working at the service desk.) Obviously the total on the check doesn’t tell the whole picture of how many hours were worked, and these are probably some of the worst off since they may not have a bank and generally need to cash the check immediately. Nevertheless, taken as a whole, these pitiful sums can be instructive. Consider the examples gathered over two paydays: $248, 321, 343, 344, 363, 388, 418, 442, 445, 502, 508, 558, 616, 873, 925. Average these together and you get $486.27 in net earnings for two weeks of work. Annually this works out to $12,643, well below the 2005 federal poverty line of $16,090 for a family of three. Strickingly similarly sums would come in from our fellow big-box neighbors in the mall, like Home Depot, Michael’s, and Kohl’s. No, my personal struggles with this project could not compare to the real ones faced by retail workers every day.

The Temp Trick

Quite possibly the most interesting revelation that I discovered in my time at WAL-MART was a devious scheme to control their new workers and deny them benefits. It is a slight of hand used by the store with its new hires and I am the perfect example of how this works.

As I mentioned before, I was hired as a temporary peak-time cashier, which means that the company can work me for as many or few hours as they want without providing benefits for three months. Ordinarily peak-time workers (which is the same as part-time) must wait for two years before becoming eligible for benefits; with this little trick that date is pushed back yet another three months. Just as significant is the fact that temporary workers aren’t peak-time or full-time, but rather any-time. If for example, I was hired as a permanent peak-time associate, I would be limited to working 32 hours per week. Due to my temp status, the store was not held to this threshold when scheduling me to work, a perk that they exercised during all 7 weeks of the peak holiday shopping season.

Not only this, but as a temporary worker I am only under contract for three months. WAL-MART sets a termination date for 90 days after being hired and is under no obligation to keep me on board. In essence the three months were a limbo period where I was forced to walk on eggshells in one marathon job interview. Inexplicably, in a lapse of judgment I had been lulled into believing my friends in the store when they reassured me that I would be kept on since I was such a hard worker. I was jarred back to reality a couple of weeks before Christmas when I overheard one of the CSM’s saying in a hushed tone that “We had a great group [of temporary hires] last year and they let them all go. And they were hiring again a month later.” With this I was forced into an exhausting guessing game of reading into the mixed messages of my co-workers. Once again, it isn’t hard to imagine the stress that this uncertainty would cause a low-wage worker who is trying to provide for his or her family. And it wasn’t until the day after Christmas that the Front-end Manager said as an afterthought on my way out the door that, congratulations, I would be staying on.

For these reasons, WAL-MART loves its temporary workers. So much so that it will use any excuse in order to get more of them. Mine was the rapidly approaching holiday shopping season that they desperately needed more cashiers for. But I would later find out that even the most flimsiest of occasions would serve as sufficient justification for not hiring permanent workers. For the previous half-year it had been the summer renovations that took place at the Supercenter, although the actual logic used by the store is unclear. Nearly all of the renovations were done by outside contractors with only the smallest of projects done by actual WAL-MART associates. This gap in logic was seemingly lost on the employees in the store who had been hired as temp workers, nearly all of whom dismissed the incident one big misunderstanding.

These aren’t theoreticals that I am speaking in; all of this did happen. I won’t be eligible for benefits until a staggering 820 days after my hire date. I worked as many as 46 hours in a week, even though I was hired as a peak-time worker. And most importantly, there was a Post-Christmas massacre at our WAL-MART Supercenter. I made the cut, but at least five of my fellow hires did not. There was the socially-awkward young man who I had painstakingly built a rapport with. Or the tough-looking but disarmingly polite teen. Or the tall, soft-spoken red-haired boy and the sadly forgettable girl. And most tragically, the friendly, emotional pregnant woman, who gave birth to a healthy young boy on Christmas Day. All five were young like myself, and perfectly capable cashiers in every sense as far as I could tell. And after slaving for months for WAL-MART Stores, Inc. all five were casualties of the temp trick on the day after Christmas. Two short weeks later the store would be hiring once again and the cycle started anew.

A Black Start to the Holidays

Both a blessing and a curse, my time at WAL-MART coincided with the holiday shopping season. I had no delusions that this would be an easy experience, but it wasn’t one I wanted to miss... and it all kicked off on Black Friday. In the days leading up to this orgy of shopping, veterans of past Blitz Day’s (WAL-MART’s pet name for the day) had regaled me with their favorite horror stories. One woman tore up her arm when it became pinned between a shopping cart and a shelf. Another was pushed upside-down into the cart she had wheeled out stuffed with Furby’s, stuck there as the surging crowd pulled the toys out from underneath her. And then of course there were the numerous reports of customers who had been trampled in that first stampede into the store. My interest was sufficiently piqued; I had to see this for myself.

When I arrived at the store at 4:30 am I had to fight my way through the crowd that would swell to an estimated 670 people by the time our store manager radioed the go-ahead at 4:57 am. Many were dressed in pajamas; even more had Dunkin’ Donuts coffee purchased from a cart that wound its way through the crowd; cell-phones and store maps completed the insanity. The lead row of carts surged through the front doors, sprinting toward Electronics with the rest of the crowd jogging in behind them. For five full minutes the shoppers poured in, until every aisle was packed with the speed walkers. Only the lucky few who had snagged the $398 laptop computers checked out early, but by quarter past five the lines were six people deep in all 30 some registers. Flush from the cold then exercise the shoppers seemed at once relieved to be done and sad to leave.

Then the unthinkable happened: the power went out! A nervous hush went over the crowd as I hurriedly plotted the best way to initiate the rioting that would surely ensue. Sadly less than a minute went by before the lights came back on; ten minutes later all operations were again running at full capacity. And this was hardly the only snafu in the much ballyhooed plan to get people out the door smoothly (clocking-in in single file, sharing register tills, etc.) The biggest problem was mispriced DVD’s, which required constant Supervisor Overrides (although this mistake did provide a nice extra boost to WAL-MART’s bottom line…) There were a few reports of pushing and one woman claimed to have been trampled coming inside, but nothing too out of the ordinary given the number of people and the store’s narrow aisles. The long lines and ridiculous customers frazzled me a couple of times, but I didn’t freak out like some.

Two of my friends were casualties on day one of the shopping season. Our exhuberant door guard (and currently reigning "Associate of the Year") lost it when a customer went off on him for asking them not to take pictures in the store. A sensitive fellow, he would submit his resignation before the end of his shift (but would stay on after failing to find another job...) Another buddy of mine quit mid-shift when CSM's refused to let him buy a digital camera on sale during his break. Despite written policy in his favor management insisted that blitz items were to be saved for our customers (probably not wanting to give him his 10% markdown.) Needless to say our store made out much better on the day than its associates did, reporting gains from the previous year. By the end of the day I alone had checked out 177 customers for a whopping $20,128.19 in sales! And I was only one of thirty plus cashiers working one of three shifts. It all adds up to a million dollar day for our Supercenter, easy. While this is outrageous, I think what will stick with me will be the mood of the day: pure madness.

As I mentioned before, I try not to blame to customers who are rude since it seemed to be misplacing blame that properly belonged to WAL-MART. After all, many customers would be upset by the time they reached my register since the store kept them waiting in line for so long; I too would be annoyed at such a wholly unpleasant shopping experience. In addition to this, many WAL-MART regulars were just as poor as I was, not to mention the toll that the holidays seem to take on just about everyone. However, as the Christmas season dragged on I found it increasingly difficult to forgive shoppers who lashed out at associates.

A nasty customer really could ruin your entire day; thinking back weeks later I still get a little upset. There was the unspeakably rude woman who browbeat me into loading her cart up on my own, only to return and curse me out further after her container of apple juice broke in the parking lot. Or the one who suffered a mental breakdown when my register asked to see her State ID, complete with tears and screaming at her 5 year-old daughter. (Her vow to never return to the store was short lived since I saw her refilling her cart 45 minutes later.) I’ve seen co-workers had things thrown at them, pushed out of the way, and called literally every name in the book… all during the Holiday Season. Indeed, WAL-MART would prove to be some bizarro world where the true spirit of Christmas played out to its perverse opposite.

Indian Wallets

I was checking out probably the twentieth mother-daughter combination of the day when my blood ran cold. The item that gave me pause was a George wallet, which I had seen before, or more accurately, I had seen its case before. The wooden case was simple, yet very sharp looking. The interlocking wooden pieces were unstained, with the logo burned into the wood, perfectly framing the black leather wallet. While unremarkable to most, the case was etched into my memory from an experience on the other side of the world -- the slums of Chennai, India.

On my semester abroad during college I had the opportunity to visit several different countries for a few days, with this city on India's southeastern coast being one of the stops. My last morning in Chennai I visited the Tamil Nadu Slum Clearance Board, a group that built housing for those living in the city's low-lying slums. While their work was interesting, what really caught my attention was the tiny concrete building we visited: a sweatshop. The shop was relatively well-ventilated and not too cluttered; however, this was the shop the state-government run board brought us to. Several bare chested men in the front room labored to cut small wooden pieces for the boxes using a deafening buzz saw. In the adjacent room several dozen brightly dressed women crowded around the tables to build the boxes, using a potent glue and paintbrushes. What appeared to be the two youngest girls of the group did their work on the floor, sitting cross-legged and barefoot. When completed their finished product would be filled with the leather wallets that the shop had made the previous month.

After pestering all of my tour guides and one of the male workers who spoke broken English (my Tamil is not what it used to be...) I pieced together the story of this sweatshop. Small orders for various multi-national corporations were filled here, with the product being made rotating on a fairly regular bi-weekly basis. It was hard to become a worker in the shop since this was one of the few employers in the slum. While the jobs were hard and the hours were long, what little money they made was still better than nothing one of the guides reasoned. To my obvious follow up question he informed me that the workers logged 48 hour weeks for $40 per month, which I later calculated to be less than 19 cents per hour. The leather George wallet in its sharp wooden case sells for $14.96 at WAL-MART. Hard to beat that price.

With my line beginning to grow behind the two women, I stopped my unsuccessful search for a tag inside the wallet (obstensibly pretending to deactivate the wallet's alarm.) I realize that the odds are small, but I would bet a day's pay that this wallet and case were made by Indian's in the state of Tamil Nadu. Now I know that the allegation that WAL-MART makes some of its products in developing countries in less than ideal working conditions is hardly shocking, but this experience certainly made this reality hit home for me. From then on, whenever I saw a tag that read Made in China, or Honduras, or Bangladesh, I couldn't help but conjure up the image of that quiet barefoot girl, who wore all the colors of the rainbow, making WAL-MART's $14.96 leather wallet for 19 cents per hour.

Scheduling Hell

I knew it was coming, but it was annoying nonetheless. When my two week training period ended, so too did my schedule being pegged to that of my mentor. Gone were the 5 consecutive 9 hour days followed by the “weekend,” albeit on Monday and Tuesday. In its place was a much more hellish schedule that I knew to be more typical at WAL-MART.

While every week varied wildly, there were several common characteristics from week to week. First off, despite only being “part-time” I was scheduled five days a week with only one exception. What this meant was that more often than not I would have to drive an hour roundtrip for less than a full shift; especially popular was scheduling four hours in the middle of the day, which are barely worth the cost of gas. Secondly, these two days off were hardly ever back to back. At one point I went for 32 days without getting a WAL-MART weekend, meaning any two consecutive days off.

Finally, and perhaps worst of all, was the stores propensity to schedule short turn-arounds; working late one night only to be in early the next morning. It was common place to hear of door guards working past 11:00 pm and starting again the following day at 7:00 am. While I never had a turn-around quite that bad, I would work past midnight and have to be in at 9:30 am. Factor in extra time to clock out and in, a half-hour commute both ways, and time to prepare for work the next morning, even if you go straight to bed you are lucky to get seven hours sleep.

So here is what all of that looks like:
Saturday 5:00 pm – 12:00 am
Sunday 6:00 pm – 1:15 am
Monday Off
Tuesday 9:45 am – 6:45 pm
Wednesday 4:00 pm – 11:45 pm
Thursday 9:45 am – 6:45 pm
Friday Off

And another example:
Saturday 6:00 pm – 10:00 pm
Sunday Off
Monday 2:00 pm – 8:00 pm
Tuesday 3:00 pm – 12:00 am
Wednesday 6:15 pm – 11:00 pm
Thursday 2:00 pm – 8:45 pm
Friday Off

WAL-MART eagerly admits that “For years we have had a scheduling system in place that is designed to match associates’ work schedules to projected customer flow to our stores.” But this justification doesn’t explain the lack of consideration to the person who then has to rearrange their life to this clockwork. My being scheduled until 11:45 pm on a Wednesday night and in Thursday morning at 9:45 am has nothing to do with the demands of customers; believe me, it was as dead as could be at 10 pm that Wednesday. No, WAL-MART illustrates an utter lack of concern for the lives of its associates because it has an utter lack of concern for the lives of its associates. Many of my fellow associates blame their hellish schedule on “a computer down in Bentonville.” As far as I can discern this is true, since the home office seems to design a template outlining how many associates are needed when.

The maddening aspect of all this is how actual people are lost in the shuffle. If WAL-MART cared even a little bit about the people who work for them, they would put a little bit of effort into building reasonable schedules. While the company no doubt appreciates the flexibility that not caring gives them, it is hardly so important of a benefit that renders ruining a workers life necessary. And if you think I am being melodramatic here remember that many WAL-MART employees must also juggle childcare, try to work in second jobs or classes, and hopefully find a few minutes to spend time with their equally busy loved ones. Ultimately this approach benefits no one in the long run since it greatly contributes to employee dissatisfaction and eventually turnover. Indeed, if the company ever wanted to remake its image through deeds rather than just words, and care for its employees, revamping its hellish scheduling system would be a fine place to start.

A Cool $42

One big reason that I wanted to take this project on was a desire to settle the furious public debate being waged about the corporation by the various sides of the political divide. Conservatives were quick to point out that WAL-MART's low prices greatly benefited the poor, with Sebastian Mallaby of the Washington Post using some horrendous math to suggest that the store saves poor American's $200 billion per year, more than food stamps and the earned-income tax credit combined. On the other side of the spectrum Liza Featherstone, author of "Selling Women Short," a comprehensive look at the historic class action lawsuit that accuses WAL-MART of gender discrimination, put it this way:

"In a chilling reversal of Henry Ford's strategy, which was to pay his workers amply so they could buy Ford cars, Wal-Mart's stingy compensation policies contribute to an economy in which, increasingly, workers can only afford to shop at Wal-Mart."

Whether or not this cold-hearted logic passed through Walton's head is uncertain; what we do know is that history did work out this way. There are countless studies to show that when WAL-MART moves into town it drives down wages and small businesses into bankruptcy. But I see this play out on a smaller level in my store, with every employee sending a significant chunk of their paycheck directly back to the company in order to buy groceries or any other necessities (and occasionally luxuries.) Bizarrely, many associates would come back to WAL-MART on their day off in order to do their weekly shopping, something that I wouldn't be caught dead doing for oh so many reasons.

In addition to convenience, many associates are drawn to shopping at WAL-MART by the 10% employee discount. However, this discount is only for immediate family, does not cover items that are on sale, and most importantly, does not cover any food. I have made it a habit to announce an employees discount to them in an effort to get across how shitty a perk this really is. "And 5 cents is your discount..." Essentially, WAL-MART has captured the market of 1.3 million American's, nothing to slouch at. This stranglehold is never more pronounced than at lunchtime. Nearly every associate will clock out for lunch then run back into the store to pick up a container of popcorn shrimp or a frozen dinner along with a soda and some other junk food. Although this meal is still meager and unhealthy, it nevertheless adds right up, easily breaking 3, 4, or even 5 dollars.

Therefore I have been bringing my own lunches, a luxury I am well aware many of the associates do not have. My seemingly modest lunches of rice and bean leftovers have drawn ooh's and ahh's, and feeling guilty I have tried to cut back as much as possible. Not helping matters is all of the people who content themselves with a bag of chips and a soda from the vending machines, or even worse, not eating at all. I routinely chide my friends -- especially the young women -- to eat something substantial since far too many of them treat their poverty as an incentive to diet. One woman summed it up tragically when I asked her if the tiny burrito she was sitting down with was dinner. "Yeah, if you are poor" she sighed. "The second week [after payday] is always meager."

Sadly, the first week after payday isn't much better. As I said earlier, my starting wage as a cashier was $7.40 per hour, which to be fair, is higher than my state's minimum wage. However, the livable wage for my county -- the amount needed to cover basic living expenses such as housing, transportation, child care, etc. -- is $11.70. Making matters worse is the fact that WAL-MART considers full-time to be 34 hours a week, and at my store a third of hourly workers are part-time, like myself. In other words, for an eight hour shift I earn $59.20. But taxes shrink this amount by 20%, closer to $47. And two gallons of gas for my 30 minute drive each way in to work (which I would say is only slightly above the norm for workers at my store) lop off another $5. So at the end of the day, after slaving for 8 hours on register, I take home a cool $42. Like I said though, many days I don't even get a full shift, instead going in for only 4 hours of work, or $19. As a cashier getting part-time hours at my WAL-MART Supercenter, I will not break the $10,000 mark in earnings for the year.

Our People Make The Difference

My first couple of weeks at WAL-MART were pretty rough. What made it bearable were the associates that I worked with; their people truly made the difference. A single interesting breakroom conversation could make my entire day worthwhile. Don’t get me wrong, getting employees to open up to me was not an easy task. For the first few weeks I focused nearly exclusively on getting to know as many of my co-workers as possible and slowly building a rapport with them (not an easy task since this required me to memorize a couple hundred names...) I knew that a new associate coming in with a barrage of questions would raise a lot of eyebrows and only cause them to clam up, so I practiced as much restraint as possible, letting them open up to me on their own terms. And they did.

Some people were very friendly, like the two greying women who were veterans of the sales floor and welcomed me during my first lunch break. It was fascinating to listen to them defend one of the company's policies then turn around and lament that they couldn't afford to spend $10 on a Halloween costume without a trace of irony. Others, like the rambunctious associate I met in the parking lot minutes later, mocked WAL-MART openly for its foolish company cheer and its customers for only caring about "everyday low prices." Sadly, few other associates were this brave. The vast majority fell in between these two extremes, doing their job without complaint and refusing to hold the corporation responsible for their predicament. I found this tendency to be both honorable and maddening, ultimately falling in love with my co-workers for both their strength and weakness.

But what made the job of befriending my fellow associates even harder was WAL-MART’s usage of a classic tactic of oppressors: conquer and divide. Whenever possible the company attempts to isolate its workers, the obvious aim being to prevent any attempts at unionizing the store. Example: there is no official area for employees to take a smoke break outside. Instead when they are on break they are supposed to smoke in their car, which many do. Another instance is how the break room is almost always a mess, and with only 20 seats far too small to accommodate the 460 employees that work there. In addition to this, management seizes every opportunity to reduce it even further by storing shipments or layaway packages, removing tables and chairs, and not providing enough space in the refrigerator or coat-rack. This inhospitable environment leads many employees to lunch elsewhere, going home, going for fast-food, or going to eat alone in their car. The few employees who do stay still isolate themselves, many talking in hushed tones on their cell phones or losing themselves in the community newspaper. My early attempts to strike up conversation were often awkward and pained since that clearly didn’t happen here... WAL-MART wouldn't have it any other way.

WAL-MART

With $290 billion in revenue during its last fiscal year, it is the world’s largest corporation. With over 5,500 stores and 7.5 billion shoppers every year, it is the largest retailer far and away. With over 1.3 million employees it is the largest private employer in the U.S. economy. To call it a goliath doesn’t do it justice; WAL-MART is the most powerful non-governmental entity the world has ever seen.

And it is not a benevolent giant. As the “Most Admired” company for two of the past three years (according to Fortune magazine), WAL-MART is leading the U.S. economy, and indeed the global market, in a petrifying direction. With a singular focus on the bottom line, it puts profits before people, or any other consideration for that matter. The stores low prices have been cited by some political pundits and corporate apologists to greatly benefit the poor; in truth the hidden costs to all of us has created an explosion of poverty in this country. It's associates are the definition of working poor, with WAL-MART dealing a massive blow to organized labor and the rights of all workers. And this doesn’t even take into account the legions of sweatshop workers that the company has spawned throughout the developing world. Or, for that matter, its role in suburban sprawl and environmental degradation. Indeed, as a retailing monopoly, WAL-MART sits at the crossroads of the difficult questions my generation faces about economic justice, reckless materialism, and socially-conscious consumerism.

For all of these reasons, and many more, I will infiltrate WAL-MART and become a low-wage retail worker. This will be an opportunity to learn firsthand about the struggles facing the working poor and to live in solidarity with them. In addition to this my experience should be a means to educate the public about the stores high costs. Ideally, both of these will translate into a way to spark change for the better by reforming WAL-MART.

Unfortunately, WAL-MART’s tendency to retaliate against dissident employees has forced me to take several precautions. First of all, the dates of these posts will not match since they are based on previous entries in a journal that I have been keeping the past few months while working at the store. However, the posts will be roughly chronological and the extra time has given me an opportunity to base my conclusions on a multitude of experiences. More importantly, I will have to keep the identities of my co-workers in the strictest of confidence and will only share anecdotes that will not betray who they are. While these steps will undoubtedly detract from the power of my experience, I believe that there is still a story worthy of being told.