Prognosticators cast the runes, shuffle the cards, read the tea leaves. O worry! O fear! 17,000 jobs lost in January. Recession, they whisper, as if in shock.
Out here in the real world, we've known about this for a long time. Economists and think tank dwellers can argue all they want about whether we're technically entering a recession, but the middle-class ideal continues to fade like a dream before the dawn, and nobody seems to care.
I work at a prominent, well-funded hospital. Nurses were recently told to expect a decrease in wages. Among the rest of the staff, management tells us changes are coming, and it'll only get worse. We're desperately understaffed, but a hiring freeze is in place. Bonuses and raises? Forget it, pal.
As a nation, we seldom speak of unions anymore, and pride in workmanship is a thing of the past. Most of us show up at our job, endure it for eight hours, or ten, or twelve, since overtime is the only way to pay the bills. We numbly accept it as benefits are slashed, quietly develop a vague resentment towards our overlords, powerless to rebel. Shuffle along, eyes down, don't say a word.
No way to live, but after awhile, it becomes all you know.
