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加拿大祖母每周工作70小時,付完帳單所剩無幾

(2023-11-07 11:57:20) 下一個

加拿大祖母每周工作70小時,每月付完帳單所剩無幾

2023年11月06日 加國無憂 51.CA 堅果兒  17評論

隨著生活成本不斷飆升,越來越多加拿大人被迫打多份工以維持生計。

紐芬蘭和拉布拉多省居民楊凱莉(Kelly Young,音譯)每周不得不工作70小時,以養家糊口和支付賬單。她白天在St. John's的一家小型工程公司擔任行政人員,晚上和周末在餐館兼職當服務員。

然而,即使在一個兩口家庭中同時兼顧三份工作,楊和她的丈夫每個月在支付賬單後也幾乎所剩無幾。

“你總是有點落後,”楊疲憊地說。“就快到了不得不偷東西來還債的地步。”

“你每天想的事情隻有你的收入。我們仿佛一輩子都在支付房租,支付抵押貸款,支付賬單......”她說。這讓她每晚徹夜難眠,焦躁不安。

“我想就在那時,我意識到我需要找到第二份工作,”她說。“隻是為了增加我的收入,能夠輕鬆支付那些賬單,這樣我晚上可以安心入睡。”

楊和她的丈夫(一名鈑金工人)曾經離開紐芬蘭,向西遷徙尋找更高薪的工作,並在阿爾伯塔省定居了四年。

“那裏的經濟非常好,”楊回憶道。“稅收低得多。汽油價格為每升0.89元。你無法找到比這更劃算的了。”

但當楊的大女兒有了第一個孫子時,家人把他們帶回了家鄉。她說:“在疫情之後,一切費用都在飆升,回到這裏,實際上對我們的係統造成了衝擊。”

自從回來之後,她一直在跳槽,總是在更高的薪水和更好的福利之間換來換去。但他們每月的租金達到1800加元,而且她的女兒們有時需要幫助,楊除了更多地工作之外別無選擇。

“當你去買菜時,你絕對不會買牛排,”她說。“你絕對不會像以前那樣購買一些額外的蔬菜。你買的是那些真正經濟實惠的東西。”

楊停頓了一下,然後笑了。

她說:“我們的餐桌上多了許多熱狗。”

楊從未想到自己會在當祖母的時候還在辛苦工作,並看著她所愛的人努力維持生計。她說,她的女兒也有兩份工作。

“一切的成本都如此之高,以至於孩子們現在無法真正享受生活。他們所做的一切就是為了生存,”她說。

而且,長時間的工作已經削減了她與家人在一起的寶貴時光。

她說,她和她的丈夫“就像夜間航行的兩艘船”,他們沒有時間一起放鬆,就連周日也充滿了瑣事和家務,而且這通常是他們一周中買菜和洗衣服的唯一時間。

楊很慶幸她沒有經曆低收入群體遭受的那種困境,但她真的累了。

像楊一樣,越來越多的加拿大人為了維持生活必需品而從事多份工作。

加拿大統計局2023年 8月的一份報告描繪了個人財務的慘淡景象:三分之一的人現在從事不止一份工作,因為他們需要這樣做,以支付食物和住所的費用,而不是出於選擇。

四年前,這一比例為五分之一。

上個月發布的Abacus Data調查對紐芬蘭和拉布拉多省500名受訪者進行了調查,結果也傳遞了嚴峻的消息:77%的受訪者表示,他們要麽靠工資過活,要麽負債累累。

經濟學家:倦怠會帶來社會成本

達爾豪斯大學經濟學家Lars Osberg表示,過度工作會產生連鎖反應。

有時,人們會接受額外的工作,因為他們想為大額開支儲蓄,或者是因為他們喜歡從事某項工作。如果這是你為了維持生計不得不做的事情,情況就完全不同了。這種情況在現如今更加頻繁地發生。

過度工作會導致家庭內部的壓力增加,離婚率上升。它也讓家庭之間的交流時間變得有限。

“當那些兼職工作的人無法參加社區活動,無法照顧他們的孩子...對整個社會來說都會帶來巨大的代價。”

來源鏈接:https://twitter.com/KathleenBurt55/status/1721607677099332018

This grandmother works gruelling 70-hour weeks just to pay the bills. And she's not alone

Kelly Young part of ballooning demographic forced to find second job

Malone Mullin · 

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A woman stands in doorway
Young outside of the home she rents with her husband in Flatrock, N.L. She says the two don't have much time to spare for each other these days. 
 
This is Part 1 of The Grind, a new series from CBC Newfoundland and Labrador on people who are working multiple jobs to offset the rising cost of living. 

Kelly Young plucks a vacuum-sealed packet of ground beef from her fridge. For once, she has time to cook. She'll have dinner ready by the time her husband is home from a long day.

"I'll make steaks out of that," she says, pointing to the hamburger meat and smiling as if to say, it's better than nothing at all.

Wry humour — and unrelenting optimism — are helping Young survive the post-COVID economy that Newfoundlanders and Labradorians have found themselves in.

That, and a superhuman work ethic: Young is clocking 70-hour weeks to maintain her standard of living, moonlighting as a server after long days at her St. John's office, where she's an administrator for a small engineering company.

But even juggling three jobs in a two-person household, the Youngs hardly have wiggle room after the bills are paid.

"You're always kind of falling behind," Young says wearily. "Right to the point where you're robbing Peter to pay Paul."

Young is among a growing population of Canadians who work multiple jobs to pay for life's essentials. A Statistics Canada report in August painted a bleak picture of personal finance in 2023: one in three people who work more than one job now do it because they need to, in order to pay for food and shelter, as opposed to doing so by choice.

Just four years ago, that number was one in five.

In Newfoundland and Labrador, a potent cocktail of inflation and rising interest rates even prompted the premier to send an open letter to the Bank of Canada in September, pleading with governor Tiff Macklem to halt rate increases.

"The continued raising of interest rates from the Bank of Canada is … significantly impacting homeowners with mortgages, those aspiring to become first-time home buyers, those looking to rent, students, seniors, families, and businesses," Furey wrote.  "Families and businesses cannot afford the crushing impact of any further interest rate hikes."

In the House of Assembly in October, PC MHA Barry Petten told the legislature he'd just gotten a call from a family looking for a fourth and fifth job to support their children. "They're not looking for luxury," Petten said. "They're just trying to feed their kids."

An Abacus Data poll of 500 respondents in Newfoundland and Labrador, published last month, also delivered grave news: 77 per cent of people surveyed said they were either living paycheque to paycheque or falling into debt. 

WATCH | Kelly Young reveals the impact of the rising cost of living on her family: 
 

?In the prime of her life, this woman had to take another job — just to pay the bills

 
Kelly Young says the rising cost of living has cut deeply into her household's income, and the family's well-being. Malone Mullin tells her story in the first instalment of the CBC Newfoundland and Labrador series The Grind.

Living is more expensive these days.

In Newfoundland and Labrador, on average — for all items listed in the Consumer Price Index — it's exactly 4.1 per cent more expensive than last fall, and 25 per cent more costly than a decade ago. Food, shelter and energy are the primary culprits.

It's all led to a squeeze for those who used to comfortably make ends meet.

"Living a middle-class life has been our whole lives," Young says. "You pay your rent, you pay your mortgage, you pay your bills."

But these days, those same expenses haunt her. "All you think about is your income," she says. It would keep her awake in bed, tossing and fretting.

"I think that's when I realized I needed to find a second position," she says. "Just to top up my income and to pay those bills comfortably, so I can go to sleep at night."

'A shock to our systems'

It's a story so common for Newfoundlanders and Labradorians it seems almost like a prototype.

The Youngs left Newfoundland for better paying jobs, heading west and settling in Alberta for four years after Young's husband, a sheet metal worker, was laid off in Newfoundland. "The economy up there was so good," Young recalls. "Taxes are much lower. Gas price is $0.89 a litre. Like, you can't beat that."

But family brought them back home when Young's oldest daughter had her first grandchild. "Coming back here after COVID and the cost of everything skyrocketing, it was actually a shock to our systems," she says.

A customer browses beef and other meat selections at a Colemans grocery store in St. John's.

A customer browses beef and other meat selections at a Colemans grocery store in St. John's. (Paul Daly/CBC)

She's job-hopped since returning to the island, always trading up for a higher salary, better benefits. But with their rent in Flatrock at $1,800 a month, and her daughters sometimes needing a hand, there was little Young could do except work more.

She picked up a serving job on weekends and evenings. Without it, "there would not be any extras," she says. Not fresh food, or even takeout on a Friday evening. Certainly no more Sunday drives. 

"When you go get groceries, you're definitely not buying steak," she says. "You're definitely not buying those extra veggies that you could before. You were buying things that you could really learn to spread out."

Young pauses, then smiles.

"There'd be more hot dogs on our dinner plate," she says.

Burnout has societal costs, says economist

Overwork causes a ripple effect, says Lars Osberg, an economist at Dalhousie University.

Sometimes, people take on extra jobs because they want to save for a big expense, or work at something they enjoy. 

But "it's a fundamentally different situation if that's what you have to do to make ends meet," Osberg says. "And that's what more and more people of normal working age, that's the situation they find themselves in more and more often these days."

Overwork leads to stress within families and higher rates of divorce. It leaves little time for families to connect.

"When people who are juggling all these jobs can't participate in community activities, can't take care of their kids … it has big costs for society in general."

Young can attest. The long hours are already cutting into precious moments with her family. "Quality time? You almost need to write it in the schedule book," she says.

A woman gets into a white car

Young leaves her nine-to-five on a Wednesday afternoon in October. (Malone Mullin/CBC)

Young and her husband are "like two ships passing in the night," she says. There's no time to relax together; Sundays, the day they used to spend lounging, are now filled with errands and chores. It's often the only time to get groceries and clean their clothes.

"When you don't see each other as much as you would like, it is difficult," she says. 

"To come home after a long day at work and he's already in bed. You get your shower and get cleaned up and you jump in and … you feel that cuddle next to you and that warmth. You know, it's everything. And that kind of gives you the reason to know what you're doing, why you're doing it. To have that to come home to."

A woman looks into a fridge

Young says she can only comfortably afford the food her family used to eat because she picked up a serving job. Even so, she still finds herself cutting corners. (Malone Mullin/CBC)

Young's grateful she's not experiencing the kind of hardship now battering the lower income brackets. A social butterfly by nature, she even finds serving fulfilling. Her second job is a way to avoid downsizing, and to afford the small extras that, for Young, make life worth living.

But she's tired. And never thought she'd be in her mid-50s, toiling away, watching her loved ones just try to tread water. Her daughter works two jobs, too, she says.

"But why should she have to? It's my question, right?" Young says.

"The cost of everything is just so severe that the kids are not living these days. All they're doing is working to survive."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Malone Mullin Reporter

Malone Mullin is a reporter in St. John's who previously worked in Vancouver and Toronto. News tip? Reach her at malone.mullin@cbc.ca.

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