By Geoff Johnson
The nature of contingent work and the contingent lifestyle that accompanies it does not simply foster personal precarity, but the ongoing destruction of communities, transforming them into veritable flotsams of hyper-capitalist flow.
The increasing rarity of the American to acquire a stable, single job with benefits that can provide savings, coupled with the boom in real estate prices driven by billionaires and hedge funds has created a financial hellscape of unaffordability which has not simply impacted working class housing, but the third spaces that comprise these communities.
Third spaces are those physical spaces outside of the home or workplace, from churches and libraries, to local small businesses like restaurants, retail, the corner barbershop, etc. These are not simply places that exist for the sole purposes of worship, reading, or commerce, but for social interaction, community bonding and awareness, and ultimately, the building of community itself. They are generally non-hierarchical by nature and seen as welcome neutral spaces. And they are disappearing, largely driven by the forces of contingency.
Contingent, by definition refers to a thing only being allowed to exist under certain conditions—in this case, whether it be work or community, it is dependent upon the flow of capital, and more specifically, by those who hold or direct it. In working class communities, and increasingly in communities in general, it is not the people who reside in them.
Contingent work condemns people to work to rent and not to own, and the notion that contingent work is simply transitional or supplemental employment flies in the face of the reality that the stable, 30+hour/week job with benefits and room for advancement is often a bridge too far. Such workers are effectively either forced to live as renters or work multiple jobs, along with an equally employed partner, to secure the capital for a modest home. For youth, even those living at home, the wages from their contingent work barely meets the basic costs of transportation to jobs more often than not, far from home, or requiring a personal vehicle to perform.
While the landlord and capitalist classes are happy to rent, the contingent nature of their tenants disinclines them to invest in community services beyond the condo clubhouse. And let’s be clear that this capital is largely White in its outlook. Look no further than a map of San Diego Food Deserts to see that by and large, these deserts are more present in poorer BIPOC Communities.
Whether it’s the presumption that these folks are too poor or inclined to vagrancy and shoplifting to be a capital risk, one will be hard pressed in these neighborhoods to find major grocery store chains, or higher end retail food outlets like Trader Joes (perhaps more appropriately called “Caucasian” Joes). Of course, such chains are happy to hire these workers on a contingent basis, and perhaps, out of the goodness of their hearts, give them a discount to buy Two-Buck Chuck.
This of course extends to restaurants and clothing stores, themselves either largely limited to taquerias and take-out food joints, or discount/factory outlet clothing shops. One can add to the list liquor stores knowingly catering to the addicted.
For anyone who has lived in such communities for decades, this has been a longstanding trend, but the march of contingency has exacerbated the situation to new levels. In the wake of on-line retailers like Amazon, COVID, and independent contractor apps like Uber and Doordash, the third-place landscape has been transformed. Now armies of contingent workers slavishly sort goods to be delivered by harried drivers, helping unwitting consumers enjoy home convenience at the loss of local physical “brick and mortar shops.” Drawn more to remain at home than venture into public spaces, growing numbers of people chose to dine in, even at a premium cost, again assisted by contingent workers hustling to get the order to them from Five Guys in hopes of a five-dollar tip.
Even when people venture out for their own food, it’s to the drive-thru. Compare the dining area in any chain restaurant that has one with the length of the drive-in line, and you’ll see the trend. Notably a few years back, a Starbucks got in trouble for calling police on two Black men who simply chose to meet there. Now, after the furor has died down, many Starbucks have a more disturbing solution—eliminate the seating area altogether. After all, it’s about the coffee, not the community.
The other phenomenon emerging is the increasingly popular food truck, which has its own kind of localized appeal without the real obligation of place or neighborhood connection. Great perhaps for the scrappy young restauranter, perhaps not so much for the hired worker who has the pleasure to work in it standing all day, save for a break on a chair in the lot where the truck is parked.
Recently, when I took the over two-mile drive from my home in Southeast San Diego to a chain grocery store in the College area, I noted that during the peak time of Saturday night when college kids are frequenting the store, just one cashier was working the register. The self-checkout area was down. Wandering down the aisles, I saw the one of the refrigeration units malfunctioning, with frost build-up encasing most of a section of ice cream. As I later went through what was a long line, I told the cashier about it, to which he said, “Yeah, I know, but the management is trying to cut costs and they’re not likely to send someone out to fix it for a month.” My later visits to the store over the next three weeks more or less confirmed this.
Why would anyone keep shopping here, or maybe that’s the point, as recent news of a major grocery store merger Between Kroger and Albertson’s could lead to the sale of some 63 stores in Southern California. Sell the stores, or simply see them close, and with them go the union jobs of those who work there.
The COVID Epidemic perhaps harmed more people through social isolation than the virus itself, and when it comes to that social isolation, the healing needed is the kind of healing provided by the third place. Diversity. Equity and Inclusion scholar KerryAnn O’Meara, in speaking of the value of the third place, writes, “third spaces are restorative and offer psychological support to individuals and communities.”
The disappearance of third places means we are not healing ourselves from the pressures of a hyper-capitalist existence, and are killing our communities, our solidarity, and ultimately, ourselves. We must and can do better.
Geoff Johnson is Southeast San Diego resident and a contingent professor of English and Humanities at San Diego Mesa and Southwestern Colleges. He is also President of the AFT Adjunct/Contingent Caucus, and organizer with the March in March, advocating for student affordability, access, academic freedom, and worker rights for all higher ed workers.