I think the building where I work has special zoning attributes. On the ground floor is an affable security guard, who is only guarding the permanent photography collection depicting with nostalgia what a great working class neighborhood this used to be around the century. As the neighborhood hipsterized, yuppified and redeveloped, I think they forgot this building behind. On the first floor is the sweatshop I work in. A good ol reminder of the factories typical of turn of the century plateau except this modern factory is peopled with brown people. It’s unbearable to think how close this isolated land of mandatory overtime sits to airy architects offices, new era software companies (wait those might also be factories) and wine tasting bars. I’ve come to see my building as an imposter in Quebec, really belonging to Taiwan.

Why? Because you’d think Quebec would be better at integrating its immigrating engineers PhD that they wouldn’t rot in a deprecating “customer service” job. Because you’d think single mothers here would have another option than work way past their children’s bedtime to pay the bills. Because their kids (now on parole for having done something silly while mom was at work to pay the bills) deserve better reinsertion programs than the discipline of a power-tripping middle aged coach. My workplace should not have its place anywhere, as no human should be expected to take shit from silly customers for barely no money. But it should particularly not exist in Quebec, where unions should push for overall decency in terms of job conditions, not just their own cooperative agenda. This workplace is a screaming testimony of Quebec’s failure –our failure- at taking advantage of the talent and determination of some of its members.

I have so much respect for my colleagues, who find me a little weird with my socialist gibberish. Now you may ask why is this the government’s business? Is this evil corporation not responsible for lame conditions, lame rules, and a lame corporate culture? Partly, but I believe that no one should come to this. Better education, a speedier track for recognizing foreign degrees, 7$ day care for real and inventive reinsertion programs would keep people out of this sweatshop. Oh and maybe support for artists not run by bureaucrats paid not to give you grants. We often think of the workplace as the means of integration and socializing. Well, let me tell you this is not far from the limpy, neon, green wall social services of your worse nightmares, with all the possible cases gathered under one large noisy smelly ‘production floor’.

We used to be able to just ignore far-away sweatshops. As people and capital are increasingly mobile, is location becoming irrelevant? It certainly has for me, as I am taking a day off my North American sweatshop job to get vaccinated in preparation of the my trip to Asia, where I’ll be part of a new media conference. Take a moment to savour the irony of leaving a sweatshop job in the ‘first world’ to go use my brains in decent conditions in the so-called not ‘first-world’. Next week, I’ll probably talk about the second floor of the building. Guess what: it’s the Quebec unemployment office☺

Have I resolved the reason for your call?