I did everything they told us to do. Went to work, paid the bills, filled the tank, didn’t complain much. Then they bombed Iran in February and the fuel went straight through the goddamn roof, and now Donald Trump is on social media slapping himself on the back because the August jobs number was 162,000.
One hundred sixty-two thousand. Sounds good. Sounds patriotic. Trump said so himself: “Great jobs number just announced, breaking all estimates (except mine!) by double and triple.” He forgot the second half of the sentence. Economists expected sixty-five thousand. He got ninety-seven thousand more than the experts predicted. But here’s the part that didn’t make his post: average hourly wages rose three point one percent year over year. Three point one. That’s the weakest pay bump since May twenty twenty-one. Five fucking years ago.
Three point one doesn’t beat fuel at record highs. Three point one doesn’t beat grocery prices that hurt more every trip. Three point one doesn’t pay for the war he started. The jobs number is the headline. The cost of living is the receipt.
They bombed Iran in February, watched the price at the pump climb to a record, and now they’re selling us the same monthly jobs report like it’s a trophy. Same White House, same week, two opposite stories on the same page. “Record hiring.” “Record fuel.” Pick one and call it the economy.
My grandpa had a union job at the paper mill in a town that doesn’t have a paper mill anymore. He could fill his tank and feed his family on one paycheck. I work part-time at Walmart and my husband works two shifts and we still pray nobody gets sick. They can call it whatever they want.
His war gets the celebration. The working family gets the gas pump and the grocery line and three-point-one. Don’t tell me about the headline when the receipt is in my hand.
Take the flag pin off before you bomb a country and then brag about the jobs, you sanctimonious fuck.
Source story: US employers add 162,000 jobs in August, beating forecasts.