The Holiday Workload

Merry Christmas to All?

It’s that time of year again—the holidays, where the rich enjoy lavish parties and spectacular gifts, and the poor work three jobs and loathe the birth of Christ.

I say this because I have recently transitioned. For most of my life I was one of the wage-earning service-industry workers, for whom the holidays meant extra hours and exhaustion. There was never proper time to purchase gifts for my own family and friends and Christmas Day was either spent working (ho ho ho!) or sleeping until 2 in the afternoon in an overworked stupor. Literally the best sleep I ever had was Christmas day 2001, after I spent the season temping for a bank and performing as a holiday Caroler in those Dickinson costumes that are adorable to you, but heavy and uncomfortable for me. I slept 14 solid hours, then woke up and demanded steak, a craving I’d had since spending my nights circling the tables at an upscale prime rib restaurant singing Silent Night for the millionth time. I would salivate over the lavish meals consumed by fancily-costumed rich families, with neither the time nor money to indulge myself.

The time was profitable—that January I was able to purchase an electric piano, a new car, and a trip to Vegas, and I did finally get my prime rib—but I can’t help but feel as if I short-changed myself for years over a few extra bucks. There is a magic to the holidays that I missed while pursuing the almighty dollar. I wasn’t able to travel home to be with my family for nine years straight. Christmas Trees and egg nog were annoying traditions that I participated in reluctantly—I would have much rather been sleeping in my rare moments off, than tramping through a vacant lot off Sepulveda Boulevard, choosing the least-brown evergreen. The holiday I had so loved as a child became at worst a burden, and at best a day on which I could finally sleep in.

Still, at the time I had little choice in the matter. If there was extra money to be earned, I would have been hard-pressed to give it up. The new car was a necessity, as my old car was in the shop more often than not. The trip to Vegas was the consolation prize for not being home for the holidays, and my family met me there to exchange gifts. The piano was an extravagance, but one that musically-minded individuals will understand entirely; being without a piano for two years was like being without a limb. None of these things would have been possible if not for the extra hours, and the extra hours would not have been possible without Christmas. Yet Christmas was something I had to forfeit in order to obtain these precious treasures in my life. The rich do not know this dilemma: Christmas? Or a car? They get both.

Therefore, Christmas became a thing to loathe, and I became Scrooge himself, bah humbah-ing at children who requested Silent Night again, because who really likes that song anyway?

But I realize now that I never hated Christmas. I hated the idea that I was missing Christmas, as I learned because of the very fact that I’ve had nothing but time on my hands this holiday season. Being out of work is a state I’m not used to, and as a result I’ve thrown myself into holiday preparations, writing out 40 holiday cards with elaborate messages by hand, creating cranberry-themed dishes from scratch, and going to great lengths to select the perfect gift for loved ones. My tree has been up since the weekend after Thanksgiving, and every morning it makes me smile. And though I still won’t be home for Christmas, I feel the warmth of the holiday season returning.

Even Silent Night makes me smile.

It’s unfortunate, really, that the holidays have become a season for the relatively wealthy, and I don’t just mean in terms of gift exchanges. What I lacked those bitter Christmases weren’t elaborate gifts under my tree—it was the gift of time to celebrate a holiday that should be for everyone. Instead, it exploits the labor class, those to whom extra hours or a second job mean the difference between public transportation and a reliable vehicle.

So please keep that in mind this holiday. When you go out to eat, be kind and patient to the servers who are pulling double-shifts because half the staff has gone on vacation. If you hit the movies on Christmas Day, thank the teenager who is missing dinner at home so he can save for college.

And God bless us, every one.