A couple of years ago I was living in a small town in Michigan where I made regular trips to the local Goodwill As-Is. I love a bargain, and it reminded me of hometown, Portland, Oregon. The Adrian Goodwill As-Is displayed their goods heaped up in piles atop big wooden bins, just like home, and there was an abundance of dirty, crappy stuff that no one else really wanted with one or two cool things thrown in for good measure, just like home. Unlike Portland, they priced things by the piece instead of by the pound, so, $.25 for a pair of pants, $.50 for shoes, $.75 for an overcoat, etc., but it was still wicked cheap, obviously, so I wasn't complaining.
One day while I was shopping I overheard the staff say something about going to a by-the-pound system. I butted in: "that's the way they do it where I'm from!" They were extremely interested and told me that my Goodwill was a model for Goodwills all over the country and they were trying to adopt its practices.
When I eventally returned home to Portland, I found out why. Prices at the Goodwill had spiraled out of control! Even at the bins (or the As-Is, or the "Outlet" as they are now calling it) was charging $1.29 a pound! The regular first-run Goodwills had adopted a cheap department store look, and replacd the popcorn and hotdog counter with an espresso stand. I don't like change on general principals, and I definitely didn't approve of any of these updates. But the real downside struck home when I saw a man, whom I'd originally noticed in the parking lot getting out of a live/drive car in the parking lot, bring a pair of workboots up to the counter to ask the price. After he was told they were $5.00 he tossed them back in a bin in disgust. It did seem a ridiculous price for a pair of shitty old worn out workboots and I thought to myself, "what a betrayal of Goodwill principals!" My sense of outrage inspired regular, ranting barstool lectures to friends and family. My aunt was so pissed about the high prices at Goodwill that she took to shoplifting some small item on each trip, wearing a hat or scarf out of the place.
Goodwill was a big part of my life growning up. As a kid, I thought of the Goodwill as a generous source of cheap goods for poor people that only incidentally employed retards and cripples as a thoughtful source cheap labor to keep the prices down for us poor folk. (Goodwill also employed at least one able bodied member of the family who took advantage of his position by picking extra nice goodies from the donation box to bring home to us. It was a form of graft, but it all seemed within the spirit of things.) I thought of the Goodwill as a cornicopia of all that was good and fun, where you could go and buy anything you wanted -- and many things you didn't. I still have dreams inspired largely by the freedom that the Goodwill made me feel. At the old Goodwill, they didn't even have shopping carts, so you'd find a cardboard box or suitcase, attach an old tie or belt to it and drag it around on the ground after you. You'd load that box up with as many items as your heart desired and leave with big garbage bags full of goodies (or baddies -- who cared?). You didn't worry too much about what fit or not because you could always give it back; it was all part of the great cycle of consumption.
Then, in the context of what I came to understand about the history of American consumer culture, I saw Goodwill as a potential source of empowerment for poor people: a chance to excercise the buying power that the world otherwise denied them, but valued so highly. And unlike charity, there could be no coercive pressure to reform. I also saw it somewhat more insidiously as a gateway drug for a consumer's high. As a someone without much money, you could still be introduced to the thrills of unfettered consumption -- practice for later days when you might actually have some money (and maybe an incentive to make it).
After some research I realized that my disappointment in Goodwill came from a profound misunderstanding of its mission. The historical mission of Goodwill Industries rests more on ideals about production than consumption. Our local Goodwill aims to "provide vocational opportunities to people with barriers to employment;" the national Goodwill says, "We at Goodwill Industries will be satisfied only when every person in the global community has the opportunity to achieve his/her fullest potential as an individual and to participate and contribute fully in all aspects of a productive life."
I have mixed feelings about this emphasis on production rather than consumption. Historians tell us that in the early/mid-20th century American workers made a compromise with capitalists under the new industrial economy: they accepted relatively boring, non-automomous, and alientating working conditions in exchange for more time off, and increased wages which gave them greater buying power under what one historican has called the Consumers' Republic. In this narrative, Americans went from skilled producers to deskilled consumers, a bargain that wasn't without sacrifice, but I think we can all agree that consumer culture is not without pleasure: certainly even the gnarliest thrift-store shopping trip is more fun than grinding away as a receptionist, drill press operator, or sock assembler. On the other hand, many groups today (particularly Canadians, for some reason) have rejected consumption as a basis for identity and ask us to find something more meaningful to hold on to. I don't think they mean work, but for all of us, there something more noble in general about the idea of identifying with what we make, than what we buy.
But I don't know that there's much nobility in the work that Goodwill offers. When I found out that Goodwill has a temp agency, the prospect of a cruel and innapropriate comedy skit immediately came to mind: Scene: boardroom full of high-powered executives, "We need this report out by Monday but we just don't have the manpower to crunch all that data!" Guy in suit: "Let's call in a temp!" Next scene: receptionist's desk at snazzy office interior. Guy who looks and talks like he has Downs Syndrome or something introduces himself: "Hi, I'm the temp. Will you be my friend?" Stressed out executive rushes out, "Great! we need you to start in on this report pronto!" Hilarity ensues as Temp fails to understand instructions, wants to be everyone's friend, hugs people at inappropriate times, etc. The Goodwill Temp could be a series (or at least a running joke on SNL).
Goodwill sees itself as offering a low-stakes chance to learn about the displine of the workforce. The Goodwill temp agency in Southern Oregon, for instance, is called, "Willpower," and Goodwill brags that it teaches such "soft skills" as "time management, dependability, problem solving and customer service.", not to mention appropriate dress. All of this would be easier to take if it weren't for the additional fact that the Oregon Department of Justice has been auditing Goodwill because its CEO is so highly compensated for a non-profit. I don't know that I think non-profit executives should make less than regular ones -- they all make too much! Still, the move from selling poor folks junky things at a low price to gouging folks of all kinds for crappy things so that you can give poor people their money back in the form of charity with lots of strings attached just seems naturally regressive. Personally, I've been trying to just plain give away more stuff for free to avoid the whole issue.
I'm petering out here -- what began as an energetic barstool rant has trickled to a overworked blog entry; I now have too much information to be truly irate or articulate (or maybe I just need to drink more beer while blogging). I've been learning about the value of the polemic from reading, Against Love: A Polemic, but I lack the ability to suspend uncertaintly to carry it off. I guess my point in a nutshell is, I miss the days when I was able to enjoy Goodwill as a training ground for unfettered consumption even if I am politically suspicious of consumption as a skill to be learned, and in theory, at least, more sympathetic to the idea that we realize ourselves through our skills and talents rather than our pocketbooks. Boo hoo.
