After interviewing for a job with the Academy of Art and finding out at the end of the interview that the pay is $13.50/hr, I wrote a nice thank you note: “Thanks for speaking with me today. After looking over my expenses, $13.50 will not be enough for me to live on. The average rent for a one bedroom in San Francisco is $2,897, and $13.50 an hour would only amount to $2,160 per month. Only if you increase the rate to at least the living wage, or offer housing, this will not work for me.”
Her reply: “At this time, the pay rate for the role is $13.50.”
My reply: “I suggest your institution reconsider its priorities. As one of the largest landowners in SF with a real estate portfolio worth at least $320 million, and annual revenues more than $247 million, you would think you could spare enough to pay full time labor enough to afford to live in one of the Academy’s overly priced buildings. Just sayin.”
Greed on both sides of the equation, the landlords and the employers, makes for a citizenry forced to depend on loans and credit which, surprise, just funnels more money into the pockets of the wealthy.
Really though. Academy, what are you doing.
Blessed #AshWednesday everyone! I wanna shoutout to all of my friends who were lookin out for me today and let me know I had a smudge on my face. An even bigger thank you to the deaf girl who, with much courage I assume for I did not know her, typed out on her phone a message to warn me about the mess on my forehead. You get are all awesome! It’s nice to know that y’all have my back even when you don’t need to ;) Even if you may not believe, I hope God blesses each and every one of you during this lenten season. #ashtag #myfriendsareawesome #longpost #sorrynotsorry
do you remember the first time you were called annoying?
how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze
the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day.
you were 13.
you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years.
i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious.
all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours
there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;
mostly because they can’t handle their own.
but you will never be
and have never been
You can be comfortable or courageous, but you cannot be both.