10 Best And Cheap Shoes Brands

Best And Cheap Shoes Brands in 2023

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Sweatshops 'R' Us: Will I Lose My Job Over Cheap Clothes?

If I am willing to support the exploitation of the poor in other countries while creating an unemployed underclass in this country, I must be willing to subject myself to the same criteria...

"I'm going to wear these forever," I said, and I turned over the label to make sure I wouldn't destroy them in the washing machine.

Fecha in Lesotho, the label read. Made in Lesotho. I had to seriously tax my geography cortex. Lesotho. A tiny, landlocked country set completely within the boundaries of the Republic of South Africa. What is it doing manufacturing sweatpants that end up on 70% discount at Meier amp; Frank in Oregon?

A year ago, I bought $50 worth of underwear at Ross - about a dozen items - and, when I returned home, laid them out on the bed. None was made in the United States. The manufacturers were in Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, Honduras, Burma (and, interestingly, the label said "Burma" and not "Myanmar"), Colombia, Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Mexico. What a break for me! If they'd been made in, say, North or South Carolina, where most of the textile mills used to be, I'd have only gotten one bra and one pair of panties. Fortunately, we've gotten rid of those greedy union people who wanted to be able to produce materials for Americans and live here at the same time. What arrogance. Most of them are probably on some sort of government hand-out by now, but don't tell me that they can't live well, because they can go to Wal-Mart, just like everyone else, and buy cheap stuff made by really, really poor people.

"I got all this," my sister had said, sweeping her hand over an immense pile of clothing, "for $40. Can you believe it?"

I can now. I've been on-line.

Lesotho - and this is from the CIA's World Factbook (and what more reliable information could we desire? If 9/11 is any example, Lesotho could have been overtaken by exiles from Area 51 by now, and the CIA wouldn't know it) - Lesotho is a country slightly smaller than the state of Maryland (I love those references - as if we have a clue, or care, about the size of Maryland) with 1.8 million people. The life expectancy is 37; the HIV/AIDS infection rate is 31%. It is also a literate country: 95% of the women over the age of 15 can read and write. In English. The "rapidly growing apparel-assembly" industry, to quote the CIA, is one of the bright economic spots in the country that primarily depends on subsistence farming and the royalties from selling its water to South Africa. The average pay for workers in the clothing factories is (US) $54 a month; that is exactly half of what the World Bank considers the minimum support for a family of four in Lesotho. That $54 is for six 10-hour days a week; more common are 14-hour days with blurry reporting on the forced overtime, and required work on Sunday. This schedule precludes not only reliable child care and family responsibilities, but also the choice to attend church (80% of the country defines itself as Christian) and - especially considering the plague of AIDS - attend funerals.

Let's see .... at least 240 hours at month for $54. Yup. Sure does explain how I've been able to become Imelda Marcos in the dress department.

Of course, discount stores don't have it easy. No way. They have to pay as much as $8 an hour to hire American people to sell this stuff. Eight dollars an hour! Makes you mad just to think of it. Without those avaricious Americans, a set of sweats would probably cost about $5.

Which is why retailers are jealous of multinationals in the information industry. Paper-pushing can be done almost anywhere in the world. And is.

"Wow," I said to my sister, who is a dental hygienist. "Are you ever lucky that people can't get their teeth cleaned overseas."

"Yeah," she said, "but what about putting down words?"

Excellent, if annoying, point. Internationally situated English writers and speakers (most of whom speak better English than we do; that's the big tip-off) are now the recipients of "outsourced" work from banks, insurance companies, credit companies, and telemarketers.

Considering the great savings over hiring local talent - and also strongly believing that if I am willing to support the exploitation of the poor in other countries while creating an unemployed underclass in this country, I must be willing to subject myself to the same criteria -- I felt it was only my generous duty to suggest to my editor that perhaps she should outsource my weekly newspaper column to someone in the global marketplace. After all, if we can't distinguish a telemarketer in Boobaroo from a woolgrower in Grizzly Bluff, it just makes good business sense.

Kindly welcome my successor, Gat Spjamma:

Hello to my good friends and neighbors in [small town name] and welcome to the new year of [current date]. My my my what fun we had [three action verbs] together in [former date]. Does it seem possible time flies? I think not.

An amusing anecdote of a true event might cause a smile on your serene face. Here is one: Two nights ago at [name of well-known local tavern], the [bartender] was busily occupied when [name of familiar local man] entered the establishment and loudly thumped his fist on the table.

"Bartender!" he said. "Please honor me with something tall and cold and full of gin."

"Dear sir and honored friend," the employee dared retort. "You are speaking of the woman I love."

I am chuckling myself and I am certain you are as well. If you will allow a colloquialism, "What a card!"

I am to share much similar narrative about our native [small town name here] in this column in the happy future. Until we meet again, may you eternally avoid [local hazard or natural calamity] and celebrate the free market.

Wal-Mart wardrobe; Wal-Mart words. We get what we pay for. In this world, or the next.