Yes, The Guy Flipping Burgers Deserves a Life
By Drew Bichler

Yes, I think the guy flipping burgers should be able to pay his damn rent. On time. Without skipping meals, selling plasma, or praying his kid’s asthma doesn’t flare up until after payday. He should be able to afford groceries without scanning the clearance bin like a vulture. He should be able to go to the doctor before something ruptures. And he should be able to do it all on one paycheck.

Not two jobs. Not three. Not a GoFundMe. Not a miracle. One paycheck. Full stop.

You know what that’s called? Basic human dignity. And if that pisses you off, ask yourself why you’re so attached to someone else’s suffering.

We’ve been programmed—no, gaslit—into believing that some jobs were never meant to sustain a life. That flipping burgers, scrubbing toilets, stocking shelves, bagging your groceries, or wiping down your gym equipment is somehow “starter work.” Temporary. Disposable. Like the people doing it were born with expiration dates.

And this lie? It’s not accidental. It’s not ignorance. It’s engineering. Because if we all believed that every job had value, then every worker would demand wages that reflect that value. And we can’t have that, right? Not in a country where CEOs make in a day what frontline workers don’t see in a year. Not when corporate profits are treated like scripture, but paying a livable wage is treated like heresy.

Let me be clear: There is no such thing as low-skill labor. There is only low-pay labor. And that’s by design.

Who keeps your streets clean? Who keeps your kid’s lunch warm? Who stocks your Amazon cart, drags it down the warehouse aisle, loads it onto a truck so you can get your new phone case in 24 hours? It’s not Jeff Bezos. It’s the guy you stepped over in the parking lot without looking.

You want that guy to suffer? Why? So you can feel like you “earned” your comfort? So you can pretend you climbed some meritocratic ladder when really, the ladder was bolted to the floor and the people holding it steady never got a turn?

You say it’s “just a part-time job.” But the landlord doesn’t prorate rent. The electric company doesn’t offer part-time power. And I’ve never met a “part-time” grocery store that lets you pay in exposure and bootstraps. So miss me with that nonsense.

The truth is, the people who run this economy—who are this economy—are the most underpaid, overworked, disrespected people in the country. Not because they’re lazy. Not because they’re unskilled. But because it’s more profitable to pretend they don’t matter. Because their invisibility props up your delusion.

We act like giving these folks a living wage would ruin something. Like it would break capitalism’s fragile little spine. But here’s the kicker: it’s already broken.

When full-time workers sleep in their cars…

When people ration insulin so they can buy diapers…

When the guy who made your lunch can’t afford his own…

That’s not a “free market.” That’s a hostage situation.

And don’t come at me with “but then a Big Mac will cost $10!” Newsflash: it’s already $10 in some places—and that money ain’t going to the guy on the grill. It’s going to corporate shareholders, C-suite bonuses, and golden parachutes for execs who couldn’t grill a patty if their lives depended on it.

You think the problem is the guy flipping burgers?

No. The problem is the system that decided flipping burgers isn’t worth shit while boardroom execs pull six figures to “cut costs”—which always somehow means cutting you.

So yeah. I think the guy flipping burgers should be able to live a full, unfucked life. I think he should have health care, paid time off, a place to live that doesn’t have mold, and the ability to buy groceries without a calculator and a prayer.

And I think you should too.

Because if your peace of mind depends on someone else’s desperation, that’s not security—it’s a house of cards built on someone else’s broken back.

Here’s a wild thought: maybe we build a society where nobody has to suffer to prove they’re worthy of survival. Maybe we stop treating essential workers like they’re disposable. Maybe we stop measuring a person’s value by how comfortable they make someone else feel.

Dignity isn’t a luxury.

It’s the bare minimum.

And if the richest country in the history of the goddamn world can’t afford that, it’s not a budget problem—it’s a moral collapse.

So yes. The guy flipping burgers deserves better. Deserves enough. Deserves a life.

And so do you.