Think about the jobs you need done around the house, the goods you need produced, and the jobs you need help with at work. Then go through your mental white rolodex and ask yourself who you could pay to do them. My friend is a union electrical foreman and says the work ethic sucks now, so it's not just the bottom or top of the labor scale. It's the same problem as finding a suitable husband for one of your wife's decent friends. Which of the men you know would make a suitable husband for, say, your sister or one of your wife's friends?
James, maybe bump this? We need to have this discussion out, at least in my mind.
-PR the Butthole Surfer
PR, I was once asked if I’d be the roving human resources trainer for a supermarket chain and I blurted, “As soon as all the labeling is bilingual!”
My entire life growing up, I had friends telling me how lazy black people were, that they just would not get a job and when they did they were slackers. I was being told this by rural and suburban white men, men who didn’t even know any black people, who largely worked their own businesses or had unionized jobs in long established paper, coal and steel plants—jobs that went away with this generation of men.
Once I moved to Baltimore I found out that nearly all men who do not own their business and do not work in resource extraction or in gross manufacturing have a horrible work ethic. 8 out of 10 white men in Northeast Baltimore, where my boss drew his labor from, were pathologically lazy. Half of these were addicts and drunks. What glued them together as a unit was that they knew, even though we worked at night lifting and slotting stuff—a job you have to think and sweat through at the same time and which half of humans are incapable of doing because they can’t move and catalog at the same time—that they were working at the bottom of the economy, in a service industry, just moving stuff around that other people grew, harvested, made and shipped and still other people wanted.
In this situation—and I did not understand it then—the Anglo-American slave mentality kicked in, the same slave mentality that has fueled celebrity worship, spectator addiction and rampant materialism. I was forced to fire entire crews en masse and still other men would quit with them to go to the bar and then sleep it off under a woman’s roof—either mother, sister or mate. I once waited with five men outside the store to open up and deactivate the alarm, for John to pull up in his wife’s black Ford Escort and saw him pull into Rick’s bar across the street! At 7 a.m. his wife called me up and wanted to know when he would be getting off work.
Although, at that time a man could still make a good living as a grocer [which came to an end around 1998 due to Walmart] these men all felt humiliated. To them real men worked as their fathers and grandfathers had, in dangerous factories, building houses—in the trades. Well, in the early 80s the trades were getting real selective.
Soon the Old Man said, “Jimmy, I’m going to have to start hiring darkies. We’ve went through every man in the area and all I have for applicants are darkies from downtown.”
“No problem, Mister Len,” I said and did my best. I was initially shocked to find that the men he was hiring were twice my age—older black guys, who were mostly excellent workers with a strong ethic, but harbored a resentment for being bossed by a young cracker. I managed to get their respect and things went well for a while. Then the great monstrous shadow that is Black Urban America swallowed them up one-by-one: shot, arrested for murder, beat-up by wife and embarrassed to show his face, in violation of parole, arrested on the way to work for being black and uses his only phone call to phone whatever woman is housing him, who calls him a "worthless nigger," declines to call me, won't bail his ass out, and he tells me this a few months later when we meet on the bus stop, etc.
Younger black men began to apply and be hired, and as the years ground on and they got younger they got lazier. I was now into a work force that had all been raised without a man in the house, had a typical employee who lived with a woman and shared her car and her job was always more important than his, so he had to call out when she worked overtime. Every month, each clerk would have a funeral to attend to and miss work or come in late and drunk because a “cousin” had been shot down dead on the street.
In the end, after winnowing out about 150 drunk whites and criminal blacks, I ended up with the only kind of crew that is sustainable: retirees, small business owners looking for supplemental income, and the transitional loser who cycle in and out on monthly tours, a crew of chronically unemployed man-children carried by a core of over-employed men.
To name a couple, there was Earl Stackhouse, former track and field star who worked two jobs and bought and renovated and rented houses, and Israel Flood, a 65-year-old former sharecropper who did the same, and also had a string of 20-year-old girlfriends. I interviewed these men about Black Baltimore and they told me they were among the last of their kind, that it was too dangerous to rent in drug land [Israel lost about ten teeth to a pipe wielded by one of 5-7 thugs who he fought off on the street outside one of his rentals in Park Heights] and that the future was going to be scorched-earth section eight, then bulldozers, and then gentrification…
Except for small businessmen like Earl and Israel, and my paleface friends like Dante and Steve, who all had their own businesses, white and black men in Baltimore are a dead letter, alternately cry babies and psychotics, mamma’s boys and deadbeat dads.
Parallel to this I observed the life cycle of the floor tech business. Most supermarkets are filthy, but all of the floors must shine, because eye appeal is buy appeal and our idiot customers equate shine with cleanliness.
A typical small market spends $1500 a week to have its floors shined, as much as it spends on Assistant Store Director or meat manager.
-Up until 1992, this job was done by small businessmen of the Caucasian kind.
-From 92-98 blacks did this work.
-From 98-2000 Eastern Europeans did this work. I recall one Russian who had owned a trucking company in Georgia—not the state, the nation—and befriended me. The last thing I heard from him was from the Deputy Sheriff of a small Pennsylvania town who wanted to know if I would come and bail him out for beating up some rednecks…
-Since 2000 floor work has been done by Latinos, with Peruvians and Brazilians owning the service contracts and Mexicans, Salvadorans and Brazilians doing the work.
PR, I have come to the conclusion that American society is toxically infected with the slave mentality virus and that the only productive and honorable employees are:
1. Outcasts and weirdo types, who you can’t promote to leadership positions
2. Immigrants, who have not yet been infected by our societal rot
3. Overachievers who are headed for better things than working for you, hopefully starting their own outfit.
4. Retired persons like myself.
I did eventually workout a formula for staffing a 100-person grocery store from these four viable manpower pools, with the only stress involving weeding out the worthless indigenous Americans who believe with every fiber of their being that they are entitled to everything, regardless of the quantity or quality of their contribution towards that goal.
From a nationalistic perspective—I’m speaking hypothetically here, as I am an inmate, not a member of the United States—I think the best solution would be to invite resident alien labor for renewable terms of employment, with the proviso that they might retire in the host country only after their last term of consecutive employment [we’re talking a 50-year commitment for young people], but if they did not work in the host country up until retirement age, they would have already returned to their home country for lack of work or unwillingness to continue working in the host country. I imagine employment agencies could handle the contracting without involving the government. Indeed, many mid-sized companies are currently farming out their Human Resources to temp agencies. This seems to be happening in some form out west. When in Colorado with Ishmael, all of the businesses near the tourist attractions had Latino and Russian staff—a cute Romanian chick too, in Cooke City Montana of all places. This was her summer job as she was a college student in Romania.
Keep in mind that the greatest pitfall in hiring and training Americans is that when you finally wean them off into a management position they expect to be a hands off potentate and do nothing—the slave envy of the slave master rotting the workplace hierarchy at the core. In my business, in retail, this rot is at the top, with management of larger chains wedded to the ideal that labor labors and management thinks and communicates, taking away any chance of management leading by example, constantly crippling the chain of action: an army with only grunts, sergeants and brass, with no lieutenants, the employee unwilling to work so that others might profit, the supervisor busting his ass to make management, and the new high performer that makes it into management being told to sit back and relax and decide what’s for lunch—one man in ten doing most of what matters and him squashed between the two antagonistic halves of the monolithic American Slave Mentality.
In conclusion internal recruiting for labor, skilled or unskilled, is very tough in an entitlement-based society, with the existence of these very entitlements driving the need for imported labor. The welfare state is a societal suicide machine that seems well-greased. If one were a cynic one might think this is by designbut not me, PRtime to write that Romance Novel...