Cover image for White-collar sweatshop : the deterioration of work and its rewards in corporate America
White-collar sweatshop : the deterioration of work and its rewards in corporate America
Fraser, Jill Andresky.
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Publication Information:
New York : W.W. Norton, [2001]

Physical Description:
x, 278 pages ; 24 cm
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HD8039.M39 U563 2001 Adult Non-Fiction Central Closed Stacks

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While stock prices and bottom lines, and occasionally mass layoffs or workers going postal, have absorbed media and public attention, business writer Fraser says life as a worker in the shiny new sectors has been deteriorating. She documents seven-day work weeks; reduced salaries, pensions, or benefits; virtual enslavement to technology; and a pervasive fear about job security. The industries she surveys include telecommunications, the media, banking, information technology, and Wall Street. Annotation copyrighted by Book News Inc., Portland, OR

Author Notes

Jill Andresky Fraser has spent twenty-five years studying the subject of her book, "White Collar Sweatshop." She lives in New York City.

(Bowker Author Biography)

Reviews 2

Booklist Review

Why amid record levels of employment and a booming economy, asks Fraser, are so many people unhappy? Fraser is currently the financial editor at Inc. magazine. She has documented workplace dissatisfaction over the last four years and comes to the conclusion that today's white-collar worker faces an "epidemic" of overwork and stress, has no time for family or personal interests, lacks long-term financial security, and suffers uncertainty wrought by corporate and technological change. Although Scott Adams has made light of these problems with his Dilbert cartoon strip, he has also given them validity. At the same time, though, others have suggested that these complaints are simply selfish whining. Certainly, Fraser's "sweatshop" is hyperbole, but she does offer a justifying explanation. Regardless, the sheer number of people--across a wide range of industries--eager to tell their tales of woe indicates something is amiss. Fraser interweaves these stories with supporting data and research to document disconcerting levels of malaise in the workplace. --David Rouse

Publisher's Weekly Review

Financial journalist Fraser fingers the "merger frenzy," ushered in by federal and state regulatory changes, for the layoffs, longer work days, shrinking benefits packages and the rise of contingency workforces that have beset white-collar workers since the early 1980s. As soon as hostile takeovers, leveraged buyouts and corporate bustups dominated the landscape, financial goals took priority over all other business considerations, making cost cutting, layoffs and benefit reductions the order of the day. The single-minded pursuit of these strategies, Fraser opines, has gradually transformed the paternalistic workplace familiar to white-collar workers circa 1979 into our present Darwinian arena, which Fraser characterizes as a sweatshop. Through interviews with white-collar workers and references to various studies, she charts adverse trends for workers in such industries as banking, communications and high technology. In her attempt to put a human face on the impact of these changes, each page is strewn with generic quotes about uncaring management and pervasive stress that portray workers as powerless before their employers ("There's something so unfair about all this"; "the company's attitude is, This is the way of the world. If you don't like it, go somewhere else"). Considering her stark portrait of bitter and forlorn white-collar workers, Fraser's proposed remedy sounds both hollow and na‹ve, as she calls for workers to restore balance in the workplace by lobbying for reduced workweeks, reasonable productivity goals and limits on the use of contingent labor. Agent, Sloan Harris, ICM. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved



Chapter One "The Pace Was Insane": Less Time, More Stress "The whole theme of your book is my life," one IBM veteran in her early forties told me during the first of a series of conversations we shared.     Catherine described to me her steady progression from a junior position at "Big Blue" back in the early 1980s through a fairly continual string of promotions into the ranks of management during the next decade. Early on, she had been identified as a strong performer and, as she put it, "placed on the management fast track." While still in her twenties, she worked twenty-hour days. "It was pretty unbelievable" is the way she recalls it now.     One two-year assignment kept her on the road, visiting IBM's customers, five days a week. "I'd only go home on the weekends. That was just accepted. It was part of the culture. You just did it--kept working and traveling at that kind of pace." Since her husband also worked for the company, he didn't complain; fortunately, his travel schedule was lighter than hers, which allowed them to maintain a semblance of a home life.     Then she was promoted into a line-management position. The good news was, she was on her way up and no longer needed to maintain that relentless travel schedule. The bad news was, her responsibilities included a regular rotation during which she was placed "on call" twenty-four hours a day, on a shift that lasted a week at a time.     To an outsider looking in, what was perhaps most remarkable about Catherine's work and home life was just how unremarkable it all seemed to her and her colleagues. "A customer could get in touch with me anytime. If you were on call, that meant you were their first point of contact." She paused, then added, "At two o'clock in the morning, you would get calls from a customer. But you were still expected to be in the office by 8 A.M. I did it for two years. I'd come home at eight or nine at night. In the midst of that, I had my first back operation. The pace was insane. When you'd get home, you'd go for the wine. And then, pretty much crash and go to sleep."     Although the working conditions were brutal, Catherine never contemplated complaining or switching to another employer. "This was known as a job you had to do to `get your ticket punched,'" she explained. Little wonder she wanted it punched: this was still the 1980s, when a management job at IBM was the pot of gold at the end of many a white-collar rainbow, thanks to the company's longtime domination of the mainframe computer business, unflaggingly powerful stock performance, and well-earned reputation as a blue-chip provider of employee benefits and incentives.     Then the competitive arena shifted, and IBM's market preeminence (as well as the dominance of mainframes) was challenged by the growing popularity of personal computers. Its stock price began a long downhill slide, various corporate reorganizations were announced, and finally, in 1993, Louis Gerstner, a veteran of the RJR Nabisco restructuring, took the helm with a mandate for change.     For Catherine and her colleagues, the demands of their already difficult jobs were notched up several levels as the company gradually entered a crisis management mode. As they worked harder and harder, many of the benefits they had prized most dearly during their days at Big Blue started slipping away. For one thing, "we used to get one hundred percent medical coverage," she recalled. "Then they switched married couples to coordinated benefits, then they switched us to an HMO. It was just, holy s--!" Worst of all was the damage done by the company's falling stock price, which went from a high around 170 to a low in the 40s; that downward trajectory drastically reduced, among other things, the value of many employees' retirement savings, traditionally one of the biggest benefits of life as one of IBM's "blue suits."     Workloads kept increasing, as the company announced numerous early-retirement initiatives and then layoffs, driving its workforce down from a high of over four hundred thousand to the low two hundred thousands. "It began to trickle down that you had this pace of work and meetings during the day. You couldn't get to your e-mails during the day, so you'd do them at night." Catherine's laugh was bitter. "It was like you didn't have a home life. IBM gave you a computer at home. That made it easy to work." Again the laugh. "I used to pride myself on thinking, I'm not going to complain. I can take it all on. I can do anything."     In the hours Catherine spent describing her grueling working conditions to me--as I came to understand the ways that work had enveloped just about every aspect of her personal life since she first entered the corporate arena back in her early twenties--I kept asking her, and myself, why she had stayed on at IBM, especially as the company began shedding its paternalistic practices and cutting back on the once-traditional rewards for all that hard labor.     Our conversations illuminated several points. She accepted her workload in large part because it was the norm within the corporation: as it increased for her, it increased for her colleagues, too, which meant that it still seemed within the bounds of the acceptable. Also, Catherine was emotionally attached to her employer, identifying with both its successes and failures, in a way that encouraged her to hang on, despite the difficulties of her position. Finally, although certainly not of least importance, she was a success at IBM and had been for some years now. As she continued to rise within the corporate hierarchy, to build her own network of mentors, colleagues, and friends within the organization--to spend most of her waking hours thinking about IBM, working for IBM, being at IBM--it was tough to imagine turning her back on so many years of accumulated experiences and ties.     The demands of her job still took their toll. There were two more back operations for Catherine, and more and more problems with her husband, during those few hours they managed to spend together away from the office. By this time, the couple had been trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant for years. Catherine blamed their failure on her chronic exhaustion and job-related stress: the cause also, she was convinced, of her incessant back ailment.     Bt this time, she was working sixteen-hour days at the office, then going home to check--among other tasks--her e-mails and voice-mail messages. Her travel pace had picked up again as well. "My husband was traveling then, too. We'd do what we called 'calendar coordination' every two weeks," she told me. "We'd sit down at dinner and plan for every single day. Where would he be and where would I be?" Worn out by a pace of work that she had been maintaining for more than a decade, she decided a few years ago to join a health club, naturally choosing one that was open twenty-four hours a day. "I'd try to go at ten o'clock at night, after I left the office." Longer Workdays Experiences like Catherine's reflect seismic changes that have taken place within corporate America during the past two decades, most especially during the 1990s, in respect to the rules, the rewards, and the demands of work. This shift is equivalent to an industrial revolution for white-collar workers who, by necessity, have learned to adjust to (and often successfully function within}} whatever versions of the white-collar "sweatshop" have evolved within their own companies and industries.     People are working longer and harder, the kind of hours one once might have expected to see logged in only by chief executives or would-be CEOs (or sweatshop workers!). There may be no greater testament to this reality than the best-selling success of Juliet Schor's The Overworked American , which argued, "If present trends continue, by the end of the century Americans will be spending as much time at their jobs as they did back in the nineteen twenties."     Currently, over 25 million Americans work more than forty-nine hours each week, some a good bit more. Here's how those numbers break down: Nearly 12 percent of the workforce, about 15 million people, report spending forty-nine to fifty-nine hours weekly at the office; another 11 million, or 8.5 percent, say they spend sixty hours or more there. Most of these people are white-collar professionals: among them, corporate managers, marketing staffers, investment bankers, office administrators, software designers, lawyers, editors, engineers, accountants, business consultants, and the secretaries, word processors, computer programmers, and back-office clerks who support their activities.     Most people, of course, don't spend sixteen or so hours a day at their offices, at least not on a regular basis, year after year. They might not be able to relate to all the career successes Catherine has had along the way. Odds are pretty strong as well that they haven't lived through the painful medical procedures she has; indeed, it might not be so simple to draw a straight line between their work-related stresses and whatever problems have emerged within their personal lives.     But Catherine is far from unique when it comes to the backbreaking pace of her work life. "Men and women come in all the time, begging for help, more and more stressed out," Zoe confided. A mid-level manager at Levi Strauss, she had worked her way through layoffs and cutbacks during the 1990s. She told me, as she laughed, that she had been with the company so long that she remembered a time when it was still thought of as a good place to work. But no longer, she emphasized, adding, "I'd say the average person is now doing the job of two and a half people."     At workplaces across the nation, most people working more than forty hours each week are between twenty-five and forty-four years old. A good many of them are likely to be juggling the intense demands of these job schedules with the also intense demands of a family, which may include responsibilities for aging parents, as well as spouses and children.     Manny is a good example. He was a technical writer at Intel and, also, the single father of two elementary-school-age girls. "Nominally, Intel has work hours, usually eight to five," he told me. But "life at Intel is intense ... incredibly hard work." So he evolved his own strategy to cope: "I'd get the kids up, give them breakfast, then I'd take off. Get there about seven in the morning. Usually I'd leave right at five." He'd come home to prepare dinner and eat it with his daughters. "Then I'd put them to bed at eight," leaving them at home alone, he explained, "and come back to the office until about 1 A.M."     In some industries, among them the technology and financial services sectors, the norms--everyday expectations about just how much time people should spend at the office each day--have become so extreme that a twelve-hour workday can seem positively lightweight. As the culture of overwork spread across the United States, inflexibly high demands like these began to seem like a badge of honor, at least from the business world's perspective. Lexus, the car manufacturer, ran advertisements that boasted, "Sure, We Take Vacations. They're Called Lunch Breaks," and "We Don't Have a Company Softball Team. It Would Lower Productivity by .56%."     Newcomers who try to leave such workplaces early, maybe to get home in time to have dinner with their families, must either adapt to the rigors of the daily routine or risk the loss of their jobs. "I see a lot of people who have a hard time understanding families and family pressures," one public relations executive in his mid-thirties confided to me. With a career that has already encompassed three different mergers at three financial corporations and one merger-related layoff, Marc has drawn a drastic, if perhaps understandable, conclusion from his workplace observations: "I personally feel that having a family is not necessarily a good thing."     In industries like his, where white-collar workers can typically spend seventy, eighty, ninety hours a week, or even more, in their offices, machismo attitudes surface--especially in group situations--when people describe just how long and how hard they work. (Remember Catherine's sense of pride about "never complaining"?) When Harvard Business School professor Rosabeth Moss Kanter ran focus groups with about three hundred professionals working in the software industry, she was told about an "ethic that is far and above 8-to-5." Black humor abounded: "Only a half-day?" "That's 8 p.m. to 5 p.m." "This is like a poker game. I'll see you your hours and raise you." Another person explained, "The long hours aren't because we want to outshine everybody; we want to keep up with everybody."     This pace of work is physically and emotionally draining, however, whether or not people choose to complain about it to their friends, relatives, or colleagues. Robert, a thirty-two-year-old financial executive at American Express, described his working conditions to me this way: "I don't get home until nine-thirty some nights. I'm dead tired ninety percent of the time. I think it's slowly sinking in with my wife about the idea that we're going to have to do something with Robert's life."     Two paychecks means twice as much potential for overwork and exhaustion, with just that much less time left over for child-rearing and other priorities. One recent study of multidecade work patterns among two-career couples concluded, in the words of Matin Clarkberg, a Cornell University sociologist, "People are working longer hours, and it's not because they want to." Among the study's findings: 43 percent of husbands and 34 percent of wives reported working more hours than they would like.     What keeps people in their offices all these hours? One would assume--especially in a tight labor market--that the big difference between today's educated and empowered white-collar workers and the sweatshop seamstress would be the former's freedom to "just say no": to refuse to punch these round-the-clock time cards and instead insist upon a humane pace of work.     The explanation is as complex as the corporate world. Some people don't have the clout or the outside options to permit them to strive for more balanced schedules and workloads. Some industries effectively squash resistance early on by expecting their managers to train early recruits to accept (and even expect) excessive demands upon their time. On Wall Street, for example, it is common for a supervisor to instruct new hires to keep a spare set of clothes and toothbrush in the office for all those late night work episodes when it just won't make sense to head home for a quick snooze. Managers like these quickly impose their company's demanding work schedules upon their staffers' psyches and work habits, since they themselves put in extra long hours and can easily identify "slackers."     There are other ways, of course, to make certain that white-collar men and women meet their employers' tough standards. Legal, consulting, and accounting firms track numbers of billable hours, which has always made it simple for them to identify those professionals who fail to work long enough and bring in whatever levels of revenue currently seem adequate. With the development of new software products, other companies have the option--whether they choose to take advantage of it or not--of using personal computers to track the in-office productivity of all kinds of staffers.     As many people rise within their organizations, there's no need for the corporation to impose work-hour guidelines or track time spent at their desks. Their workloads are so heavy that they have no choice but to spend long hours there. If they want to hold on to their paychecks and benefit packages, if they want to keep rising within the corporate hierarchy, if they still care about their careers, they will put in whatever hours are necessary to handle their workloads. And they require neither timekeepers nor shop-floor supervisors to crack the whip, since they will self-impose whatever work schedule--nine-to-nine, six-to-eight (meaning A.M. to P.M., of course), or well into the morning hours--is necessary to get the job done. Job Spill One of the most insidious features of today's white-collar "sweatshop" is the way that increased work time and job demands get disguised, since many work-related activities take place in the ever more blurry terrain between life inside and outside the office.     Remember lunch hours? The very term has become an anachronism for many inhabitants of the corporate world. Thirty-nine percent of workers surveyed by the National Restaurant Association report that they are too busy to take a lunch break ... they just work through it. Another 45 percent complain that they have less time for lunch than they used to have. While it's tough to tell exactly how much less --two recent surveys concluded that the sixty-minute lunch break has shrunk to either thirty-six or twenty-nine minutes--one conclusion is clear: we're gulping down our sandwiches quicker so that we can speed our way back to work.     In Manhattan, for example, where "power lunches" have traditionally been a way of life (and integral to the publishing, entertainment, fashion, legal, and other industries), tony restaurants such as Le Bernardin now offer thirty-minute quickies for working men and women who are too pressed for time to ingest their gourmet meals at a leisurely pace. The latest trend among rising professionals? They schedule two or more mini-meals, with one set of business guests arriving at the table as another departs: "There's no foreplay to lunch anymore," one confided.     The daily commute has also changed. For many men and women, the hours they spend in their cars or on trains getting to and from their offices used to include precious and uninterrupted moments of quiet which they now use, not for personal relaxation, but to return work-related phone calls they were too busy to respond to during the workday. When they get a free moment, or maybe get stalled in traffic, they check voice mail back at the office for new messages. Odds are, they don't even think of this activity as work; for many, it's just catch-up time. They might even blame themselves for being too disorganized or inefficient at the office to get done everything they need to do.     All those people in all those cars, however, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the cell phone, are part of a larger trend that has little to do with their personal efficiency. In most cases, after all, they'll have just as many phone calls to return during tomorrow's commute as they do today, even if they manage to catch up on all of them now. For lack of a better term, think of the cause as job "spill," like an oil spill. Then imagine job tasks seeping from the office to the home in much the same way as oil can invade a body of water and a beach. The seepage is just as difficult to block. And it's the dirty secret behind many a corporation's thriving bottom line.     Job spill encroaches upon far more than commuting time. Like Catherine, many of the people who write memos during their train rides home or return phone calls from the highway are the same ones who then proceed to check their e-mails and voice-mail messages after dinner: sometimes several times after dinner and sometimes for quite a long time after dinner. Their nighttime reading material might well be a project update or a stack of memos from colleagues, or a book they're editing, or an investment prospectus they're writing. As with commuting, they usually don't tote this up as additional time spent after an already long workday, although of course it is.     People try to minimize the disruption of their home life by playing their own equivalent of the commuter "catch-up" game: they tell themselves that by working at home during the evening, they're making their lives "easier" at the office tomorrow. Of course, they need to tell themselves the same thing when faced with tomorrow's job spill. Or, they can try not to think too much about it; after all, that's just "the way things are."     Job spill also seeps into the weekend. Although there always were some people--mainly go-getters on the rise and plain old workaholics--who brought office work home with them to do on Saturday and Sunday, the weekend has typically been an inviolate private space, a chance to unwind and get together with relatives or friends or simply relax. As Witold Rybczynski put it in Waiting for the Weekend , "It's a time apart from the world of mundane problems and mundane concerns, from the world of making a living. On weekends time stands still, and not only because we take off our watches."     No longer. For many men and women, the pace of work is so intense and unrelenting that they simply cannot squirrel away the time to take off their watches and forget about their offices all weekend long. "I had no hobbies, no outside interests," recalled Patricia, one of a small group of female engineers at one of the nation's most prestigious (and demanding}} high-tech giants. "I believe that the divorce rate at these very aggressive companies must be higher than the norm. If you make the choice to have a home life, your career will suffer. You've got to be willing to work the endless hours, come in on weekends, travel to the ends of the earth."     Weekend work is now just unavoidable for a good number of white-collar staffers. Electronic mail has fueled the trend in making it both easier for people to contact their colleagues and more difficult for colleagues to fail to respond (and respond quickly). People are fortunate who can squeeze their weekend work in along with other activities, confine it to only Saturday or Sunday, or limit it to a couple of weekends each month.     There are countless subtle, but significant, signs of the invasion of the office into the once-inviolate weekend. FedEx, for example, launched a Sunday delivery service to a series of select U.S. zip code destinations in order to serve a customer base in which "more and more businesses were operating on Sunday ... [or] were faced with either the occasional situation or the demanding customer who needed things on what was once an impossible deadline."     Bill, a longtime public relations executive, pointed out to me that more and more press conferences and news releases are being scheduled for Sunday. "It's a subtle breakdown of the old rules," he commented. "Maybe next we'll see these announcements coming out on Christmas. Hell, that's only another Wednesday or Thursday or whatever!"     Weekend work can take many different forms, running the gamut from a briefcase full of papers that will demand hours of reading and response time at one's home "office," to cell phone calls that interrupt a Sunday jitney ride back from the Hamptons, to beeper alerts that summon a mother or father away from a child's baseball game. The low point, at least with regard to weekend work, came for Marc one Saturday morning when he was wheeling his toddler daughter in a stroller to a local delicatessen for a breakfast alone.     "There we were in the mall and my beeper goes off." He paused in anger, as if he were still hearing it ring. "Here I am. My daughter deserves my attention, but all of a sudden Marc is a husband, a father, and a manager, all at the same time." He paused again, then added, "But that's not right, because when I'm at the office, they don't want to hear that I'm also Marc a father and Marc a husband."     Whether weekend work takes place at a shopping mall (or some other extension of one's home turf) or at the office generally depends upon the norms for each person's industry and particular company. Parking lots may be as much as half full at a high-tech company like Microsoft on a Saturday or Sunday, and it's easy to tell what that signifies: more people working more hours. (Manny reported to me that he used to "sneak [his] daughters in below the security cameras," when he worked weekends at Intel, because he was so desperate to spend time with them, even if only at the office.)     On the other hand, the cubicles and hallways may be empty at a publishing company like HarperCollins during the weekend. But that doesn't mean its editors aren't blue-lining manuscripts from their desks or dining room tables at home, or performing other tasks they are simply too busy to handle during their workweek. Less Time to Unwind "You are being asked to work weekends," complained Robert, the financial executive from American Express. "You have to travel. People don't consider it an acceptable excuse to say, 'I'm burned out and I need to spend time with my family.' People do keep mental notes. You see it in their faces."     Few people possess the valuable ability to shut work out of their personal lives, at least for a long enough period to unwind from the intense job schedules they must cope with seven days a week. Since weekends scarcely provide relief for many overloaded men and women, vacations and holidays loom ever more important as an opportunity to restore balance. Yet these too are under siege in the white-collar "sweatshop," both from cost-cutting corporations and from the ever-present job spill.     In The Overworked American , Juliet Schor concluded that during the 1980s "U.S. workers have gotten less time off--on the order of three and a half fewer days each year of vacation time, holidays, sick pay, and other paid absences." She added, "This decline is even more striking in that it reverses thirty years of progress in terms of paid time off." Symptomatic of the corporate trend was DuPont's decision to reduce the highest-paid vacation level for employees from seven to four weeks, while also eliminating three companywide holidays from its annual calendar.     With less time off (and jobs whose demands may be such that getting-away-from-it-all for two weeks is virtually impossible), quickie vacations have become increasingly popular. According to the Travel Industry Association of America, weekend vacations now represent more than half of all U.S. travel.     Even a weekend off is more time than some people can now steal away from their workplaces. So a new trend has evolved: twenty-four-hour vacations, which may take the form of overnights at a nearby hotel or spa. (Others manage to cram in round-trip airline flights, boat cruises, or some other type of long-distance conveyance that provides at least the illusion of a full-scale respite from work.) The Wall Street Journal termed such vacationers "deadline tourists," suggesting a heart-pounding compression of time that merely mirrors the intensity of their work and home lives.     Most people still cling to the more traditional forms of vacation {{including enough time to work on a suntan or overcome jetlag). But a fair number bring along with them their laptops, portable fax machines, or electronic organizers, no matter how far from the office they go. They're the ones we all see who are speaking to their offices or their clients from cellular phones on the beach or the fishing boat. Intrusions like these from the workplace can even seem funny, so long as they're not happening to you or me. That was the way I felt when one thirty-something Wall Streeter described the time her cellular phone rang during a crowded train ride to her rented beach house in the Hamptons. Everyone within her sight range on the train checked his or her own phone; all were carrying them, in briefcases or handbags, as a matter of course.     Like all those men and women who squeeze work time into their commutes or evenings with the family, working vacationers may tell themselves that a little (or a lot) of work isn't really too bad, so long as it can be done during a stay at the beach or a trendy resort. How painful can it be to check one's voice mail, after all, if one can do it while watching the kids play beach volleyball or perfecting a suntan?     People who pacify themselves this way fail to appreciate that any work at all defeats the goal of a vacation, which is to restore one's sense of personal balance, enjoyment in life, and independence from the office. They cannot unwind, not really. The sad thing is, many people have basically accepted that this, too, is "the way things are." (Continues...) Copyright © 2001 Jill Andresky Fraser. All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgmentsp. ix
Introduction: The Best of All Possible Worlds of Work?p. 3
1 "The Pace Was Insane": Less Time, More Stressp. 17
2 "Working Three Times Harder and Earning Less": The Shrinking Paycheck and Other Squeezesp. 39
3 "This Is the Way of the World": The Disappearing Benefit Blanketp. 58
4 "They Used to Use a Ball and Chain": Technology's Impact upon the Workplacep. 75
5 "My Full Intention Was to Be There Forever": Sharing the Rewards of Postwar Prosperityp. 97
6 "Ma Is Dead": Workplace Change in the 1980sp. 114
7 "Raising the Bar": Why Work Now Worsens As Companies Prosperp. 135
8 "Like a Boulder Rolling Downhill": Declining Job Conditions, with Little Payoffp. 160
9 "Career-Change Opportunities": The Corporate "Spin" on the New World of Workp. 182
10 Conclusion: A Path Out of the White-Collar "Sweatshop"?p. 199
Notesp. 231
Select Bibliographyp. 255
Indexp. 259