The importance of 30 goddamn minutes

When I first started working as a catering waitress, I was convinced that my employer was violating labor laws. At my past two jobs, it was company policy to give employees short breaks and a lunch break: 30 minutes if you worked at least seven hours, 1 hour if you worked eight hours or more.

At my current job, we don't get breaks. Sometimes we find ourselves with down time, depending on the pace of the event -- but on several occasions, I have worked 10+ hours without a moment to myself. The managers police us from start to finish, and anyone caught standing still is immediately assigned a new task. The result is that I am literally on my feet for ten hours at a time.

Surely, I thought, this was against the law. I fantasized about legal action -- suing for vast sums of money and saving future workers from misery. Only it turns out, 10 straight hours of work is perfectly legal in my state. These states require breaks -- even Puerto Rico requires an hour for lunch, with double overtime for anyone who works during that hour -- but my state is not on the list. The state labor website confirms that I am not entitled to any sort of break, no matter how long I work.

To be fair, my company does give us food. We are allowed to eat whatever we are serving, but this is not a break. I've literally been told that I may eat for "five minutes," then I'm expected to get back to work so that the next person may take her five minutes. (Usually I don't like the food, but that's another story.)

Real breaks involve 30-60 minutes where you can do whatever you want. You can step outside. You can rest your feet. You can buy good food at a legitimate restaurant. And most importantly, a break is when managers aren't bitching at you to work harder.

It's ridiculous that we don't have this law in all 50 states. Workers in my state get just as tired and hungry as workers in the other states. (Motherfucking "right to work.")

In the meantime, I've found that the best defense is to steal time by hiding in the restroom. It's not exactly dignified, but neither is my job.