Ellen Goodman’s article (Self-serve and Slave) in the Orlando Sentinel this morning had my head nodding all the way through. She drew the line at a dinner invitation to a restaurant where they hand you a platter of raw foods and a hot pot. She decided if she wanted to cook her own food she would eat at home. Ellen, we are sisters under the skin.
Perhaps I carry it too far. It annoys me to choose what goes on my hamburger. It’s a hamburger! Put everything on it like they do in Texas. I understand the concept of personalized sandwiches, but still don’t like to have to decide on each ingredient in a sub sandwich. I have to make those decisions in my kitchen every night.
But forgetting about food, Goodman recalls all the jobs we have to do for free now that stores once paid workers to do. We’ve been distracted by jobs sent overseas and don’t see how many jobs have stayed right here—but shifted to us – the ultimate free labor. Ramming that first nozzle into our gas tank was the “gateway drug to self-help.” Before we knew it, we were conducting our bank business with an automated phone or the Internet, storing our own medical records, copying and delivering reports, picking up scripts because our doctor stopped calling them in, analyzing our own prescription drug plan needs, weighing and slapping a price tag on produce, even checking out our own goods at Home Depot if we were so sappy, etc. etc.
Now I am picturing our parents or grandparents, poor as church mice by our standards, some living through the Depression, yet in many ways they were treated like royalty. Grocers kept a running tab for them, bankers knew and looked out for their finances, mechanics knew their car as well as their own, milk was delivered while they slept, clothes brought to the fitting room, doctors came to their home, long-time insurance agents advised on every aspect, and on and on. Sure they had to make many of their clothes, grow and can much of their food, share a family car, but the niggling little “unpaid jobs” that add up to a whopping weight on our shoulders were not present. They used that energy to help neighbors—and got help the same way.
You hear so many older people say they never knew they were poor. Maybe it’s because they weren’t. Maybe they were our rich ancestors.
A N H I N G A 
Well, some people still preserve much of their food. My wife and I have put over 150 quart bags of vegetables from our garden in the freezer this summer. But the difference is the “had to.”
A big irritant for me is having to “update” my medical history every time I see a doctor. I always ask why I can’t just certify that nothing has changed since the last time. The answer is always (essentially) shut up and fill out the form. I’m tempted to put in there that I had a heartectomy two years ago to see if they notice.
Absurd hypersensitivity alert! If a teacher can get fired for using “niggardly” you might get booted out of the blogosphere for using “niggling.”
WAY TO GO SIS!
THAT IS YOUR BEST BLOG. YOU REALLY SUMMED IT UP IN CASE IT HAS SLOWLY SLIPPED UP ON ANYONE AND IT PROBABLY HAS.
I REFUSE TO ADD UP MY OWN GROCERIES IN A STORE ALTHOUGH I ZAPPED AIR PLANE PARTS FOR SIXTEEN YEARS AT KELLY AIR FORCE BASE ON A CONVEYER LINE. I AM RETIRED NOW. I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO AND I KNOW IT IS GOING TO COST PEOPLE THEIR JOBS IF WE GO ALONG LIKE GOOD LITTLE SHEEP AND DO IT FOR THEM.
THANKS FOR BRINGING THIS TO PEOPLE’S ATTENTION. MAYBE SOME PEOPLE WILL STOP AND THINK AND NOT GO ALONG WITH IT SO WILLINGLY.
I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO START A REVOLT IN MY SMALL WAY BY ANNOUNCING LOUDLY IN GROCERY STORES WHY I REFUSE TO ADD UP MY OWN GROCERIES.
ALSO I WAS IN SALES FOR YEARS AT A SHOE STORE AND LITERALLY WAITED ON PEOPLE HAND AND FOOT. AND SOMETIMES THE FEET WERE PRETTY STINKY. BUT I KEPT SMILING AND I LOVED THE RAPOR I HAD WITH MY CUSTOMERS.
IT’S MY TURN TO BE WAITED ON NOW! I EARNED THAT RIGHT.
It’s the difference in generations, you can blame my baby boomer generation for strating it with Salad bars. We are the ‘ I want it now’ and ‘have it your way’ generation who can’t wait for an attendant to pump the gas and they want the options of the sizes and the condiments on their sandwiches. But the best will come when the damn cats can change their own litter boxes and cat food cans that can be set down at night and automatically self open in the morning, then biodegrade on the spot when empty! I’ll buy a robot if he will empty the litter box! And why is it as soon as you put the clean one down, boom,
they can’t resist the urge for a big brownie!
A.j., I think you hit on a good point. Besides, I love to blame everything I can on Boomers. 🙂 Once the corporations realized they could please Boomers and save money at the same time there was no stopping them.
When you find that robot for the litter box, order a second one for me–whatever it costs.