Being A Gig Worker Has Made Me A Better Human Being

I don’t usually answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize, but today I did. This was probably a mistake. Answering your phone is like throwing chum in the water for all the spambots circling like invisible sharks.

But to tell you the truth, I was lonely and I wanted to talk to somebody. So I answered my phone, and a young woman asked if I would participate in a political survey.

Sure, why not.

Back in the good old days before the internet, when shopping malls were the crown jewels of American culture, people with clipboards loitered in nooks and alcoves near the mall entrances, waiting to pounce.

Ah, mall survey people. The scourge of retail. Their job was to reach out and touch the pulse of the American people, or at least the ones with enough disposable income to go blow it at The Limited and Musicland (not that I ever did that, noooooo).

The rule with mall survey people was “Never make eye contact.”

Much as if you had encountered a bear or a mountain lion in the wild, the secret to survival was to avoid eye contact and just keep moving. If you slowed down, they immediately closed the distance between you and rattled off, “Woudyoubeinterestedinansweringafewquestions?”

I never actually took one of those surveys at the mall. I didn’t even think of the people holding the clipboards as people. They were a nuisance, and a hindrance, and they were standing between me and the Carnival of Stuff that awaited.

But I should’ve stopped. I should’ve just taken the damn survey.

I should have thought, “There but for the grace of inscrutable economic forces go I.”

When I spoke to the young woman last night on the phone, I heard a TV playing in the background. She probably had a roommate, or kids, or both. She was trying to earn a living.

“What if she’s paid by the number of surveys she completes each night?” I thought. “What if she’s helping to support her family or pay for school by calling strangers and getting hung up on more often than not?”

I’m paid by the number of transcription jobs I take each day, and my pay can range anywhere from $.30 to $1.00 per audio minute. I like to shoot for $20 a day, but that’s hard. The audio quality is bad, the robo-transcription can be wildly off. Sometimes there’s no work. And sometimes I’m just tired.

No work, no pay. It’s not my only source of income, but it’s the only thing keeping me from sliding back downhill.

Those mall survey people weren’t there by choice. “Mall survey person” isn’t something your high school guidance counselor recommends as a career choice.

When you’re comfortable and all the bills are paid and you’re not worried about the future, you stop seeing all the people who aren’t comfortable and who are worried about the future.

When you struggle, you suddenly see all of the other people who are struggling, too. You’re no longer on the mountain with you head above the clouds, oblivious to everything below.

Wherever you are, whatever rung of the ladder you currently inhabit, it’s all due to an accident of fate. You’re not a wealthy American because you’re such a great person. You’re a wealthy American because the random number generator we call the universe put you here, just like it put somebody else in a Sudanese refugee camp.

So answer your phone sometimes. Tip your server. Whatever you have, be grateful for it, because there are plenty of people who have a lot less.