Thanks for Working Today
Since we were together last, I attended a college reunion of sorts in Schenectady, New York. It was the 200th anniversary of the fraternity I belong to, and let me point out, I was around for the 150th.
On the appointed evening, there was the obligatory reception and dinner, which followed the group photo of all three hundred attendees. Now, if you bunch together over three hundred people—fraternity members, or otherwise—and release them at once to a cocktail reception, it is the equivalent of aiming a cannon at the bar and shouting “Commence firing!” I know this. I am a former professional. If you are the barkeepers, you must be well dug in, with adequate ranks of people nearby to hand you munitions.
As a former professional, I had understood the precariousness of the situation before the photo and positioned myself at the edge of the group to allow for quick movement to the bar once the order to commence firing had been given. A perky, bubbly bartender handed me my beverage with barely a moment wasted and wished me good evening. She was ushered away in tears not long after.
I watched from around the massive charcuterie table, as the advancing company of three hundred piled up at the bar. A classmate appeared and announced we had a disaster on our hands. Senior council members and event organizers began huddling in corners, under the big tent. And eventually, reinforcements, called up from the college’s sizable food service staff, arrived to augment the caterers.
What happened? Well, this is the point I am here to make—ten employees of the catering company had called-out of work that day, leaving them severely short-handed, unequipped to open the planned-for, second bar. And the point is, had this happened here, where we live, as it sometimes does—who are we kidding: as it often does—the event would have remained a disaster, without the resources of the college, and larger Schenectady community to rescue it.
I have a queer thing I do, especially on weekends: I thank waitstaff, cashiers, and other people in mostly unskilled, hourly jobs for working. I say, “Thank you for working today.” The young people in these jobs generally respond with a hearty “Of course! Thanks!” The older people, who have been legging it out in these positions for years, glare at me.
Workforce is a crisis in the Monadnock region. Nothing gets better (e.g., housing, school enrollment, tax burdens, etc.), until we solve the workforce problem. In turn, workforce is held back by housing, tax burdens, the threat of darkened elementary schools, etc. It’s turtles all the way down. But we could begin to help by saying thank you, as a dividend, for coming to work, for supporting our local businesses, and helping to keep them rolling.
I was being glib earlier (during the entertainment portion of the essay). In truth, my core ached for the caterers. Been there. Lived through that. I was ready to jump behind the bar and start pouring (oh yes, as were others). And it was not so much pity for the caterers as it was pity for the team members, the ones who came to play, who got punished by the absenteeism—and reduced to tears.
Years ago, when my wife and I owned the Inn at Hancock (at the time, the Hancock Inn), and the Hancock Market across the street, one of our wholesale grocer delivery trucks arrived past closing at the market, late by hours, late again, late, late, late. I was forced to leave my position behind the Inn’s bar, go open the market, and stow the groceries. The next day, I was very (very) unpleasant to our account manager. He was apologetic, but in response to my admonition to get himself reliable drivers, he said something important—for all of us. He said, “Jarvis, we’ve been in business in this region for forty years. We have scorched the earth for a hundred miles in every direction and, now, there are no more drivers to hire. We’ve been through every one of them.”
Welcome to rural New England. I reject all hostility to development in our towns for this reason: our team lacks depth, we have no bench. I celebrate every private and public investment intended to attract visitors and give them reasons to return, and we hope, stay.
And I want to thank the people who show up for work, keeping hope alive. Maybe you would join me?
Published October 7, 2025 in the Monadnock Ledger-Transcript