A One Man Strike

Yesterday, I was working for someone who is replacing his roof. Since the the demolition requires only one skill, that of not damaging yourself, the homeowner decided to hire someone off the street. Now, for the uninitiated, Houston has several areas where unemployed Latinos, mostly illegal, gather every morning in the hope that someone will give them work for the day. It's kind of an informal rent-an-immigrant program. Anyway, the homeowner hired a man around 11:30, having agreed to pay him eight dollars an hour, which is about as good a wage as any of those guys can get. Work progressed smoothly until 2:30, at which time our friend stood up, put down his tool, folded his arms, and announced that he was finished and wanted to go home. It was hot, he said. It was dangerous on the roof, he said. It was dirty, he said. Of course, he might be persuaded to stay if he was making ten dollars an hour, he suggested. I watched bemusedly as the homeowner begged and pleaded and eventually gave in. The poor man wasn't prepared for the ploys of an unscrupulous day laborer.