Sunday, April 09, 2006

Feeding the 3rd World

I was called in to work today to fold about 1,000 Tshirts which have already been unfolded and refolded four different times, four different ways. Everyone at work just wants to grab a case of peeps from the dollar store next door, go outside, and have a mallow roast over a bonfire of Tees.
Me, I was under my sleep requirement and pissed off at the shirts and trying to keep myself occupied when a thought pops into my head (and flows directly out my lips).

"Ya know, there's really only one way we could get away with selling everything for so cheap in this store, and if the customers stopped to think about it, they'd realize they're buying sweat shop clothes."

I was chastized by my manager for making this comment on a busy Sunday morning in a department store where I was surrounded by shoppers.

"Well, the woman bought the shirt anyway, so obviously she has no problem supporting Pedro and his family's dinner tonight."
"Still, it's just not a comment you should be making in front of customers."
"And yet I do not hear you denying my allegations."
"Our clothes are made....overseas."
"That's all the confirmation I need!"

This also spawned a conversation over how we could box all these damn shirts up, send them back to Pedro to fold, and the cost of shipping and his two-cents-an-hour wages would still be less than the cost of calling in 4 employees just to fold shirts.

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