A Brush with Inequality: Why People Really Hate Working on Thanksgiving

When Costco executive Paul Latham was asked why the company is keeping its stores closed on Thanksgiving, his answer to The Huffington Post was clear and simple: "Our employees work especially hard during the holiday season, and we simply believe that they deserve the opportunity to spend Thanksgiving with their families."

But while closing stores is the right decision, his reason misses the mark. Let's be honest: is being away from family really why people hate working on Thanksgiving? As much as we all look forward to commenting on the size of the bird and praising how wonderfully moist it is this year (what's your secret?), the truth is that the meal and ensuing ennui are less important than what they symbolize: everyone, young and old, rich and poor, sitting together at the same table.

That meaning is turned upside down when people have to work on the holiday and face today's harsh reality: we don't all get a seat at the table. As much as we tell ourselves that America's the land of opportunity and the place where dreams are made, the truth is that some of us will always have to work on Thanksgiving.

When I began my career as a young journalist, I often had to work nights, weekends, and public holidays, and for good reason: it was a daily newspaper. But working those days always made me reflect on where I was and where I would be in the future. I was thankful that I had a job, a place to live, and food to eat. But I was frustrated that I had to work when so many others got the day off.

On Thursday, Costco and those retailers who remain closed deserve our thanks -- not for honoring tradition or time with extended family, but for something far more basic: giving everyone the day to call their own. 

Finding the Empty and Bringing it Back to Life

A mother of four from Ecuador collects bottles and cans in the film Redemption.

Their bounty rattles down the streets of New York in clear garbage bags flowing over the sides of shopping carts. Their success depends on their efficiency and endurance, as they track down trash and hunt for bottles and cans once filled with things sweet and delicious.

It's hard to imagine these "canners" don't feel the pity, disgust, and fear from those more fortunate, from those who can't understand why anyone would collect that many recyclables. But the canners do what they have to survive. The documentary Redemption -- produced by Downtown Community Television Center and available on HBO on Demand -- shares the stories of a few of them. There's Susan from the Bronx, a former IBM saleswoman who needs more than social security to make ends meet; Walter, a former bouncer at the Chelsea Hotel, who's been living under the West Side Highway for 25 years; and there's Nuve, a mother of four from Ecuador who collects empties every day to support her family.

The film is quite understated: in 35 minutes, it depicts the typical day of canners and gives them a chance to talk about their lives. For me, it was tough to make sense of the canning phenomenon. Why are our taxes paying for each can or bottle redeemed? Why can't the money be used to provide jobs to some of these canners and give them a second chance at life?

I know it's complicated. The New York City Sanitation Department has enough employees; replacing them with canners will only make the problem worse. But like the canners, we have to be creative and work hard to find solutions. I don't know the answer, but I do know one thing: we won't find the solution in a bag full of empties.