Class Release Program?

Earlier this week, when I arrived to my temporary job at Lowe’s, one of my coworkers and I got to talking about my upcoming trip to Israel and Palestine. She asked why I am going and what I study. She asked about my studies and where my academic interests lie. After hearing my answers, she hit me with the question, “What the heck are you doing working at Lowe’s!?” Of course, what she really meant was, “why are you wasting your time here? Can’t you be making money somewhere or at least doing something less physically demanding and more fulfilling?” In response, I just smiled and nodded. I didn’t really know what else to say. So, this piece is my attempt to address her question.

In May of this year, I graduated from UT Austin with an M.A in Middle Eastern Studies. My next step is to apply to a PhD program to continue my research on conscientious objectors in Israel. In the meantime, since being a professional student has been how I earn money, I’ve had to come up with alternate means of making a living. Naturally, I turned to my roots: blue collar labor. I have been working odd jobs for the last month or so, walking dogs, driving Lyft, helping out on construction sites, assembling retail products, moving furniture, I even held a giant sign on the side of the interstate for a mattress store’s Labor Day sale. Boring as hell, but I got a great tan!

Being back in my natural habitat, so to speak, with the working-class folks, the people who wear boots and get dirty, who make things with their hands and know how to operate machinery, has been…nice. It feels comfortable. Plus, it’s glorious not having a set schedule and not feeling the pressure of deadlines. For those who follow me on Instagram, over the last month or so, you’ve had the privilege of seeing some of the jobs I’ve been assigned. For my friends who only know me from university, I probably seem out of my element at times, wearing a hard hat and an orange construction vest. Funnily enough, this could not be further from the truth. You see, I’ve only been passing as a member of the middle class.

I am working-class. When I was 15, I got my first job sweeping and mopping the dining area of a family-owned BBQ restaurant, Dan’s BBQ. By the time I turned 16, Wally bought Dan’s and the joint became Wally’s BBQ. My new bosses promoted me to Assistant Manager and put me on deliveries. I learned all about the art of brewing barbecue sauce, and the difference between lean and marbled brisket (the latter is fatter). Soon after, I left my short-lived career in the restaurant business and began an apprenticeship with my father. Throughout high school, I worked with him as a cable technician installing CAT III/V and fiber optics in schools, homes, and businesses around the country. During my senior year, I opted for a GED and began working as a telephone and cable technician full-time. I found a startup company looking to grow, and they put me in charge of the Central Texas region. I traveled quite a bit, often visiting several cities a day working different trouble-tickets and installs. After a while, that company relocated me to Austin, TX. I lived on S. 1st St. just north of Ben White. I paid $645 a month for my little one-bedroom on the second floor. This was 2002.

I earned my living as a cable and phone technician until I was 20. And that’s when I joined the Army; my second career. I don’t want to spend a lot of time reflecting on my military career. I was a military police officer (31B, for those who speak Army) with a specialty as a criminal investigator (V5). Chronologically, I lived in Fort Hood, TX.; Kuwait; Iraq (back to Texas then back to Iraq); Mannheim, Germany; Fort Stewart, Georgia; Kuwait; Iraq. I lost quite a few good friends and a lot of people I didn’t know well or at all. In one deployment, my gunner and my roommate were killed by a roadside bomb, and our second platoon’s lieutenant was killed by a sniper. During a convoy on my final deployment, my squad (I was the Squad Leader at the time) was struck by a roadside bomb. I petitioned for one of my soldiers to receive a Purple Heart for injuries he sustained during the explosion. He did.

In 2011, I decided I was finished with the military -- finished with the United States government altogether, actually. I had been working with C.I.D. (Army F.B.I.) for the last 3 years and had spent a significant amount of time around the dregs of military society. But, I also worked side-by-side with college-educated soldiers and Department of the Defense contractors. That caused me to become interested in school, and I earned an Associate’s degree majoring in Criminal Justice (the system is totally broken, btw). Despite being accepted to C.I.D. school, I decided not to reenlist to become a Special Agent. After three deployments, an entirely altered worldview, and nearly a decade of having to hide my homosexuality for fear of being dishonorably discharged, I left the military, moved to Mobile, AL., and began my third career: university student.   

At this point, the entirety of my job history could be considered blue collar. Okay, technically nine years were green collar, but you get the idea. I am from a working-class family and I was raised a working-class gal. In both of my careers, my uniform contained boots and tool belt. My belt just transformed a few times in the military, from patrol belt to tactical belt to gun holster. Hey, it counts! So, it was only natural that the jobs I held while I earned by Bachelor’s degree would be blue collar, too. I cleaned offices, did handy-work, and I worked at Lowe’s. Oh, and based on my few years with the company, working at Lowe’s is sort of a rite of passage for some 75% of American lesbians. There are seriously so many lesbians at Lowe’s it’s almost silly, but damnit if they don’t know their way around a hardware store!

I should also mention that I met my wife while I was working at Lowe’s. She didn’t work there, believe it or not, but I was employed by the company at the time. My wife and I met online. We found out via the Internet that we lived only a couple blocks away from one another. We’ve pretty much been inseparable since our first date. She’s actually helping me type this. I’m just kidding. But she did come with me from Alabama after I was accepted to graduate school in Austin. She also stuck with me through every grueling semester of graduate school, summers included, in spite of my short temper, emotional breakdowns, and wonky sleeping patterns. As I write this, I am 3 weeks away from saying goodbye to her so I can go to Israel and Palestine on an independent research and writing trip. A journey partly for personal edification and partly to strengthen and supplement my PhD application.
Ahh, my PhD application! Finally, the culminating event in my story that makes my last career change worthwhile. So, why haven’t I started the application? That, my friend, is an excellent question and it deserves an answer. So, here it is: I don’t think I can pass anymore. I genuinely do not know that I have it in me to pretend I belong somewhere my gut tells me I don’t. The same thing happened in the Army. Gradually, I felt more and more like I didn’t belong and like I was just going through the motions.

Please keep in mind, I have been in academia for the last six years. During the last two, I dedicated myself to transforming into a professional academic. I got pretty okay at it. I attended some conferences, wrote some strong papers, held conversations with some brilliant people, and learned a few new things, including Arabic and Hebrew. I had wonderful experiences and met people who continue to impress me with their talent and perseverance. I can’t even begin to express the gratitude I have for the people who supported me with scholarships. The professors and graduate students who listened to my ideas, especially those who helped me shape them or told me to let them go. I had the opportunity to teach, to interview, to tutor, to learn, to mentor, to pontificate, to debate, to flounder, to shine. It was an exceedingly rewarding experience that I will never forget or regret. I just don’t know if I can keep it up. I don’t know if it is who I am, and that is part of why I am taking such an extended trip to the Middle East. I need to recollect my thoughts and, in the words of Fergie, be with myself and center, peace, serenity…

But, I want to return now to my Lowe’s coworker’s question because I think it raises some important issues that deserve to be confronted. What was actually being said when she questioned my presence at Lowe’s? Is it assumed that because I have a graduate degree I am above retail? Is she saying I am above her? Or perhaps she was implying that I am wasting my time or merely settling for retail when I could be off conquering the world with my humanities degree. Whichever way you slice it, her question seems to indicate that retail, blue collar, is below me somehow. But…is it? And, if it is, does that mean people who work in retail, the working-class, are also below me? I certainly don’t think of it in that way. I am working-class, after all. Always have been. Still, for two years, I did put my blue collar away and tried to pass as a card carrying, white-collar wearing member of the middle class. It didn’t stick.  

Some may ask, what was the purpose of getting an M.A. if I was just going to wind up back in my blue-collar? Why didn’t I go to trade school or stay in the military? Believe me, I asked myself the same questions. Well, I didn’t ask myself why I left the army. I don’t regret that for a second. But, why not vocational school or a business degree? Well, when it came down to it, I wanted a graduate degree because I was curious. I had the means to go to school and study history and philosophy so I did. I fell in love with school, with learning. I fell in love with writing and reading, but I never fell out of love with working with my hands, with creating, repairing, and building. So, what’s a girl to do?

It makes me wonder why our society doesn’t have a system in place that affords white collar, business professionals, and academics the opportunity to get their hands dirty. Switch it up now and then. Step away from the office for a year or so and mix concrete on the side of the highway. Do some flagging, fix a phone line, clean a barbecue pit, assemble some faucets…anything! Why should there be a stigma against degree holders getting grimy and using our muscles? Why should someone like me, from the working-class, feel the need to pass while earning a degree? I belong there just as much as the next person. Sadly, it does not feel that way. And this is why I’d welcome a program that allows class transitions of the sort I’ve described. Call it a Class Release Program. Why not step out of your loafers and into someone else’s work boots for a bit? You don’t have to stay, but you might want to. Of course, this system works both ways; Florsheims feel nicer than Caterpillars to some. And if you don’t know what Caterpillars are, you might be a perfect candidate for my Class Release Program.

If nothing else, consider my proposal as a way to conduct a widescale exercise in empathy; a way to help us relate to one another. It’s pretty undeniable that our country’s social cohesion leaves much to be desired as of late. Now, I am not telling you to quit your job and start all over, but I am not telling you to not do that either. What I am telling you is this: having a graduate degree and being a part of the working- class is not an oxymoron. There is no shame in getting your hands dirty, nor is there any shame in preferring a cozy office. You want to know what is shameful? Pigeonholing people and judging them based on their social status, career choice, or education level. Anyway, who doesn’t want to live in a world where the person selling you lumber has a position on Rawlsian justice? Office fridge on the blink? No problem. Jan in accounting is a member of ioAST.

So, I guess now I can finally answer my coworker. What the heck am I doing working at Lowe’s?
Enjoying myself.