Occupational Discrimination, Part I – "The 9 to 5 Breakfast Hierarchy"
Today, I woke up at noon and went to the restaurant downstairs for an egg and cheese sandwich and coffee. It was quite tasty. It’s good to be back in New York – a city that has some advantages over many other places I have either visited or lived in over the course of my life. One such advantage is that in this city, there are numerous eating establishments offering breakfast food 24 hours a day. Due to the nature of the city and its millions of inhabitants (specifically, the countless different types of work of its inhabitants), not everyone works the same schedule. Some people work the so-called "normal" hours of 9 to 5. However, there are MANY persons who work 2nd or 3rd shift. There are even some who work what I will propose to be a 4th shift – that of artisans, musicians, writers, insomniacs, and drunks… those who have absolutely NO fixed schedule, but are always just going with whatever their schedule may be on any given day. So, in NYC, if Arnold the Artist, Mickey the Musician or Ian the Insomniac wakes up at 2pm (or even 6pm) there is always SOMEWHERE to get a bona fide breakfast: eggs, bacon, grits, toast – whatever suits your tastes.
I just finished a month of full-time work in the small coastal town of Stonington, Maine, singing in a world premiere of a new opera. One morning, when it was only 11am (which I, as a musician, still consider to be on the ‘early’ side), the only four eating establishments in town were no longer serving breakfast. "Sorry, we JUST stopped serving breakfast" was the recurring refrain.
Do all the eggs crack and run out the drain at 10:59am? Has the bacon gone bad? (Are pigs robbing banks?) Would it really be THAT difficult to scramble some eggs and toast some friggin’ bread for me before I begin MY workday?
This, my friends, is occupational discrimination. It suggest that the establishments of Stonington, Maine (thereby reflecting the attitude of the people who own, operate, and frequent these establishments) agree unanimously that there is a NORM (which shares the same Latin root as "normal") for when THE work day starts. And thus a norm for when the day ENDS as well – since the whole town shuts down at 9pm. Therefore, if you do not start your workday at the hours dictated by that NORM, then YOU ARE NOT NORMAL.
Stonington is the spitting image of many other places I have visited. In such places, if there is not a 24-hour diner nearby, then the assumption is that you should eat eggs, bacon, and grits when everyone else eats eggs, bacon, and grits. And if you do not agree with the assumption, then tough luck. You must eat eggs, bacon, and grits when everyone else does, or you will have to make your own (which assumes both that you can cook and that you have access to a kitchen, which may not be the case for every individual. Consider, for example, travelers passing through town or those with phobias of cooking.)
It is a shame that discrimination of others stretches this far into the social fabric of places such as that small fishing town full of early risers. Fine with me. If I lived there, I’d say that I would just get a 9 to 5 job and play according to ‘their’ schedule. However, if I can’t get a job in New York City, what kind of chance would I have of getting a job there? Oh well. Now that I’m home, I can get eggs and bacon at whatever time I wake up. So, I might as well sleep in tomorrow.
I just finished a month of full-time work in the small coastal town of Stonington, Maine, singing in a world premiere of a new opera. One morning, when it was only 11am (which I, as a musician, still consider to be on the ‘early’ side), the only four eating establishments in town were no longer serving breakfast. "Sorry, we JUST stopped serving breakfast" was the recurring refrain.
Do all the eggs crack and run out the drain at 10:59am? Has the bacon gone bad? (Are pigs robbing banks?) Would it really be THAT difficult to scramble some eggs and toast some friggin’ bread for me before I begin MY workday?
This, my friends, is occupational discrimination. It suggest that the establishments of Stonington, Maine (thereby reflecting the attitude of the people who own, operate, and frequent these establishments) agree unanimously that there is a NORM (which shares the same Latin root as "normal") for when THE work day starts. And thus a norm for when the day ENDS as well – since the whole town shuts down at 9pm. Therefore, if you do not start your workday at the hours dictated by that NORM, then YOU ARE NOT NORMAL.
Stonington is the spitting image of many other places I have visited. In such places, if there is not a 24-hour diner nearby, then the assumption is that you should eat eggs, bacon, and grits when everyone else eats eggs, bacon, and grits. And if you do not agree with the assumption, then tough luck. You must eat eggs, bacon, and grits when everyone else does, or you will have to make your own (which assumes both that you can cook and that you have access to a kitchen, which may not be the case for every individual. Consider, for example, travelers passing through town or those with phobias of cooking.)
It is a shame that discrimination of others stretches this far into the social fabric of places such as that small fishing town full of early risers. Fine with me. If I lived there, I’d say that I would just get a 9 to 5 job and play according to ‘their’ schedule. However, if I can’t get a job in New York City, what kind of chance would I have of getting a job there? Oh well. Now that I’m home, I can get eggs and bacon at whatever time I wake up. So, I might as well sleep in tomorrow.
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