Fast Food Nation - Eric Schlosser [46]
Elisa Zamot is a junior at Harrison High. In addition to working at McDonald’s on the weekends, she also works there two days a week after school. All together, she spends about thirty to thirty-five hours a week at the restaurant. She earns the minimum wage. Her parents, Carlos and Cynthia, are loving but strict. They’re Puerto Rican and moved to Colorado Springs from Lakewood, New Jersey. They make sure Elisa does all her homework and impose a midnight curfew. Elisa’s usually too tired to stay out late, anyway. Her school bus arrives at six in the morning, and classes start at seven.
Elisa had wanted to work at McDonald’s ever since she was a toddler —a feeling shared by many of the McDonald’s workers I met in Colorado Springs. But now she hates the job and is desperate to quit. Working at the counter, she constantly has to deal with rude remarks and complaints. Many of the customers look down on fast food workers and feel entitled to treat them with disrespect. Sweet-faced Elisa is often yelled at by strangers angry that their food’s taking too long or that something is wrong with their order. One elderly woman threw a hamburger at her because there was mustard on it. Elisa hopes to find her next job at a Wal-Mart, at a clothing store, anywhere but a fast food restaurant. A good friend of hers works at FutureCall, the largest telemarketer in Colorado Springs and a big recruiter of teenaged labor. Her friend works there about forty hours a week, on top of attending Harrison High. The pay is terrific, but the job sounds miserable. The sort of workplace regimentation that the fast food chains pioneered has been taken to new extremes by America’s telemarketers.
“IT’S TIME FOR BRINGING IN THE GREEN!” a FutureCall recruiting ad says: “Lots O’ Green!” The advertisement promises wages of $10 to $15 an hour for employees who work more than forty hours a week. Elisa’s friend is sixteen. After school, she stays at the FutureCall building on North Academy Boulevard until ten o’clock at night, staring at a computer screen. The computer automatically dials people throughout the United States. When somebody picks up the phone, his or her name flashes on the screen, along with the sales pitch that FutureCall’s “teleservice representative” (TSR) is supposed to make on behalf of well-known credit card companies, phone companies, and retailers. TSRs are instructed never to let someone refuse a sales pitch without being challenged. The computer screen offers a variety of potential “rebuttals.” TSRs make about fifteen “presentations” an hour, going for a sale, throwing out one rebuttal after another to avoid being shot down. About nine out of ten people decline the offer, but the one person who says yes makes the whole enterprise quite profitable. Supervisors walk up and down the rows, past hundreds of identical cubicles, giving pep talks, eavesdropping on phone calls, suggesting rebuttals, and making sure none of the teenage workers is doing homework on the job. The workplace at FutureCall is even more rigorously controlled than the one at McDonald’s.
After graduating from Harrison, Elisa hopes to go to Princeton.