Living in a Slave World

I am writing at this moment in a large airport. Thousands of
people work at jobs associated with this airport, and few of the jobs
actually befit a human being.

I traveled to the airport in a hotel shuttle. On the way I told the
driver, a Peruvian immigrant, about the talk I had given this weekend
and about my vision of a more beautiful world, and at one point, by way
of illustration, I said, “Here you are driving back and forth to the
airport all day — surely you must have moments when you think, ‘I was
not put here on earth to do this.’”

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” he said.

I can’t help but think the same as I watch the cashier at the airport
kiosk, typing in purchase items and handing out change and saying,
“Thank you sir, have a nice day,” and the man going from trash can to
trash can, emptying them into his cart and changing the plastic bag,
silent and sullen, wooden-faced. What kind of world have we created,
that a human being spends all day doing such tasks? What have we become,
that we are not outraged by it?

The men and women at the ticket counters and gate counters have
slightly more stimulating work, work that might take a few days or weeks
to master, rather than a few hours, but still, their work falls far
short of engaging the ability and creativity of a human being (although
it might be satisfying for other reasons, like service to others, making
people happy, meeting people, etc.). The same goes for the flight
attendants. Only the pilots, air traffic controllers, and mechanics do
work that might reasonably occupy the learning capacities of the human
mind for more than a few months.

Strange it is to me, that the very worst, most brutal of all these
jobs also receive the lowest pay. I understand the economics of it, but
something in me rebels against that logic and wants the baggage
handlers, drivers, and cashiers to be paid more, not less, than the
pilots.