A Working Stiff's Manifesto
A Memoir
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- 12,99 €
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- 12,99 €
Beschreibung des Verlags
A “bracing, hilarious and dead on” account of a college graduate’s chronic underemployment (The New York Times Book Review).
In ten years, Iain Levison has lived in six states and worked at forty-two jobs, from fish cutter in Alaska to furniture mover in North Carolina, film-set gopher, oil deliveryman, truck driver, and crab fisherman. He quit thirty of them, got fired from nine, and has difficulty remembering the other three. Whatever could go wrong often did, hilariously.
A Working Stiff’s Manifesto is a funny book about the not-so-funny experience of dead-end jobs—the real thing, written not by a high-priced journalist disguised as a counter clerk, but by a genuine wage-dependent, hand-to-mouth working stiff, too well-off for welfare yet too broke to fit a consumer demographic. He works to keep his car running to get back and forth from work. He works to get by and get back to square one for the next day’s labors. And in this book, he finally gets some use out of the forty thousand he blew on his English degree—providing an “entertaining, unusual mix of autobiography and social commentary [from] a sharp-eyed, impassioned critic of the American workplace” (Publishers Weekly).
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Levison is a "modern-day Tom Joad" who, over the last decade, has worked 42 jobs in six different states, including mover, fish cutter, cook, caterer and cable TV thief. He recalls those jobs in this entertaining, unusual mix of autobiography and social commentary reminiscent of Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America. Levison imagines himself a new breed of itinerant laborer a college graduate with a $40,000 English degree. His America is a desperate and brutal country, a place where you're hired with a promise of insurance after 90 days, then fired on the 89th; where criminals beat each other to a pulp in Alaska fisheries, and truckers make fraudulent entries in their logbooks in order to keep up with impossible schedules. But Levison's droll sense of humor eases him (and his readers) through the tough times; he recalls catering a party and bleeding into the guests' Merlot, expounds on the definition of "r sum " ("the French term for 'page full of bullshit' ") and proposes a new motto for Dutch Harbor, Alaska ("What fatal flaw in your character made you wind up here?"). As both a writer and an employee, Levison can come off as a trifle obnoxious some of his workplace misfortune he definitely brings on himself and he's mercilessly scornful of the corporate yes-men and unscrupulous characters he works with. Yet his moral vision more than makes up for it; he's a sharp-eyed, impassioned critic of the American workplace.
