How Do We Talk About Work?
Our 'work' is not trivial, yet we only discuss it at work.
I drafted this essay some weeks ago while searching for feedback about some work I had found myself involved in. Specifically, I wanted to know how, if at all, other people discuss the “work” they do.
First, the usual – I am writing from one corner of the open-floor common area at my new residence. It is nothing to write home about. Even if it were, I am currently being provoked out of my comfort by a couple seemingly preparing for double-date: they’ve tuned the volume of the central television to its highest, blaring music and YouTube ads they aren’t even listening to. The goal seems to be to get rid of me. Thank you mother for the noise-cancelling headphones!
Here’s the story
Two months ago, in December, I was offered a challenge: my university’s administration enacted a prohibition on salaried workers holding additional hourly roles under State of Kansas employers. If you worked as a graduate or residential assistant, receiving a fixed amount every other week, you could not take up jobs that paid by the hour.
Common student jobs that pay by the hour include tutoring, writing consulting, research, and office-roles.
In my college, and most around the US, full-time undergraduates are expected to work a maximum of 20 hours per week.
To that effect, weekly commitment for salaried roles are typically estimated and assigned. Residential assistant roles, for instance, were tabbed as a 16-hour-a-week position.
So, students who deemed it necessary – for whatever serious reason – to reach the hourly cap or simply participate in some work they loved doing, would assign the remaining 4 hours to another function. In my case, until last semester, I spent those 4 hours continuing my work at the Writing Center at my school.
With the new prohibition, students in any kind of salaried role, no matter its assigned weekly commitment, could not supplement their hours. Those students were, henceforth, banned from taking up hourly roles.
Students who already held both salaried and hourly roles were directed to pick between either category by the end of the spring semester.
Students who would, otherwise, have taken up hourly roles during academic breaks – undergraduates are allowed to work up to 40 hours a week – were asked to consider their options.
The communication we received implied that the institution was only already established, and previously unfollowed, following federal legislation around dual-employment.
What next?
In the few days that followed, I traced the roots of this supposed policy and found discrepancies between its particulars and my institution’s implementation.
By the following Monday, I had drafted this resolution. (I recommend skimming through this.)
On Tuesday, I presented it to the Student Senate Executive to expedite it for the our General Assembly.
On Wednesday, during the General Assembly, it passed and was transmitted to the appropriate authorities.
The resolution was titled: A Resolution Urging the Reassessment of Dual Employment Restrictions for Undergraduate Student Staff.
In it, I highlighted specific federal legislation providing accommodations for dual-employment and queried the University’s decision to no longer meet them. I also other interviewed individuals affected by the new policy and integrated their concerns in the written document.
This all happened two weeks before finals.
My personal response
After the resolution went through, I spent the next few days considering my own response to the situation. I deeply valued the work I did both as a residential assistant and as a writing consultant.
Notably, the residential assistant role was more securely compensated than my consulting role – housing and dining included.
Yet, especially with the revelations made while surveying relevant federal policy, I was adamant that I would not compromise my passion work at the Writing Center – and others like it – for what appeared to be a misrepresentation of federal labour laws.
I tendered my resignation for my residential assistant role and began searching for apartments against the new year.
And the interesting part
Beyond the my findings and the subsequent resolution through Student Senate, I didn’t deem it necessary to speak about the specifics of the matter.
I felt I had only done my duty, to those who would be affected and the community, by chasing this dangling thread. Subliminally, I didn’t care whether or not fellow students knew they were being fought for. I worked on it because I felt it was important to the community and the international students I represented; I also didn’t hear of any student-led effort. Nothing else mattered but getting it done.
So when, a month later, I shared this summary of the resolution on LinkedIn, I truly was just bored.
What followed were several concerned students reaching out with their own contribution or appreciation, staff forward my resolution through group chats, and offers to collaborate on similar issues.
This deeply troubled me because, again, I almost didn’t share the case.
When I was young, I was implicitly taught to compartmentalize work (school) and play. Mute your accomplishments. Stay hungry. While these are, in their own merit, useful principles, it’s pretty obvious that certain solutions are better served trumpeted. Some cultures seem to encourage this from an early age. In mine, although not discouraged, it might be misplaced to discuss your personal, creative, non-academic pursuits with family.
In the case with the dual-enrollment policy, it turns out some people did care. Not just that, but sharing the effort in real-time might have helped to build more momentum and, perhaps, a more beneficial outcome.
I cared about the problem. I cared about the affected community. Still, I didn’t seem to consider that the students and staff, themselves, might also care: I now see why that’s a problem.
So, dear reader, how do you talk about your work?
Do you ever discuss its specifics with people outside that sphere?
What revelations or breakthroughs have you had from discussing your work in an unusual space?
Write me!
Joel