It’s the summer of 2010, and brothers David and Raul Origel are excited. A Charlotte contractor has hired them as subcontractors for a big painting project. The pair, middle-aged Mexican immigrants who have made the Queen City their home for eight years, considers themselves lucky to have secured a steady gig in such a stalled economy. They hire six other men to complete the project, painting a total of 61 apartments in three buildings. The work is intense, but the brothers don’t mind. “They wanted a well-done job, and we were happy to do it,” said Raul. There is, however, one nagging issue lowering the group morale: total lack of financial compensation. Three months into the project, the Origel brothers hadn’t seen a dime of pay for their work. Today, almost a year after they packed up their paintbrushes, the situation is the same.
The Origel brothers are victims of a growing trend affecting Latinos in America: wage theft, a term that applies to workers who do not receive their legally or contractually promised wages.
Some common forms of wage theft include: not paying for overtime, not giving workers their last paycheck after a leaving a job, not paying for all the hours worked, not paying minimum wage, and even not paying a worker at all. A key turning point in the matter was a 2009 study by the nonprofit civil rights organization the Southern Poverty Law Center. Titled “Under Siege: Life for Low-Income Latinos in the South,” the study acknowledged that over the last 20 years, the Southeast has experienced a boom in its Latino population — many of whom have found employment in labor-intensive fields such as construction, cleaning, restaurant and factory work. Unfortunately, these industries are notorious for violating wage laws, and government regulation offers them little protection. Foreign-born Latino workers have the highest minimum wage violation rates of any racial/ethnic group. The study cited that in Charlotte, 28 percent said they have performed work for which they were not paid.
Undocumented workers frequently find themselves in a particularly exploitative situation. Although the law doesn’t take a person’s legal status into account when it comes to being paid for work, employers can manipulate the situation so that workers fear deportation if they report labor law violations. The SPLC’s study noted that 66 percent of Latinos in Charlotte who were victims of wage theft said their willingness to speak to police has been affected by the county’s 287(g) program, which authorizes state and local officials to — in conjunction with Immigration Custom’s Enforcement (ICE) — act as immigration officers. The connection between heavy-handed immigration policy and silence in the face of injustice can also be observed in Arizona, the state with the nation’s most notorious proponent of anti-illegal immigration policy; the Arizona Interfaith Alliance for Worker Justice noted a “huge spike” in wage complaints since SB 1070 was signed into law last April. It’s a catch-22 Raul Origel is familiar with. “People are afraid to report anything, especially to the police,” he said. “They’re afraid that they’re just going to find themselves in a worse situation.”
It’s that lack of reporting that leads to repeat offenders of wage theft. The Origels had experienced wage theft before, and it was only after months of working for free that they found out their employer had a reputation for withholding pay. “It made me so angry, I even thought about putting the guy’s picture in the paper, as a warning to others,” said Raul.
Unsure of what their rights were, the brothers came to the Latin American Coalition looking for direction. It was there that they first met Curt White, client service specialist at the LAC. At the time, White was one of the LAC’s many volunteers, but he had a firsthand knowledge of wage theft. White spent about a year and a half working for a Charlotte landscaping company, during which he had to fight for every paycheck he earned, usually earning back what was owed. In a company employing between 12 and 16 individuals, White was the only non-Latino … and the only documented employee. “The IRS thinks three people work there,” he joked. On payday, White would frequently find himself “caught between a rock and a hard place.” The employer, knowing he had docked the employees’ pay, would stay home on payday and have White hand out the money (most employees were paid in cash). “I tried to advocate for them as much as possible, at the same time hoping they wouldn’t kill the messenger,” he said. “Which is why he [the employer] would stay home. He knew what he was doing, and he was scared.
“On the one hand he said he hired Latinos because they worked better than anyone else,” added White. “On the other, if they started to complain about their wages, he would say that they should just be thankful they had a job and that if they didn’t like it, they could leave. Maybe they could leave, but where would they go?”
The N.C. Department of Labor’s Wage and Hour Bureau reports that wage complaints increased from 4,963 in 2009 to 5,717 in 2010. From January 3 to March 31 of this year, the LAC recorded 81 labor rights complaints. Catalina Diaz’s (whose name has been changed for this piece) case was one of them.
Living in Charlotte for 13 years, the Mexican native never had problems with payment, and had established herself in the construction industry. Diaz headed a group of four who worked with drywall finishing. Early last year, her group got involved with a contractor who admired their work and signed them on for two six-month-long projects. It was smooth sailing for the first project, but close to the end of the second, Diaz began to have her suspicions. “He started saying that it was possible my check would come later than usual. Then time would pass, and he’d say it again — that there were some problems, that maybe it was lost in the mail, but that it was coming. Well, we finished the project, and the check never came.”
Diaz wasn’t the only one relying on that check. Although she’s legally residing in the country, those she worked with were not, and so the checks would be made out in her name; later, they would split the earnings among themselves. When White assessed Diaz’s case, he found that she was owed a total of $6,970.
“People have two options when it comes to prosecuting wage violators,” said White. “They can choose either to launch an investigation through the Department of Labor, or they can go to small claims court. Most people choose small claims because it’s a faster, although still time-consuming, way to see if they can get what’s owed to them.”
Diaz filed an official complaint in Kershaw County, S.C., where the contractor she worked for is based. He has been served court papers, and she is currently awaiting her court date. Although she is hopeful, the experience has taken its toll on her. Not being paid for half a year’s work, and unable to secure employment afterward, she was evicted from her apartment. The formerly self-sufficient single mother had to rely on help from Social Services and the Crisis Assistance Ministry to get back up on her feet. “It’s been hard on me. I was very angry. I hated feeling so desperate,” she said. “I even went to his house, spent all that gas money, to try and work something out with him. But as soon as the project was done, he was done with me, and it didn’t matter to him what I had to go through afterward.”
Raul, who is owed $7,000 from last summer’s painting job, has also experienced the fallout from wage theft. Not being able to pay the bills, he lost the apartment he was renting, as well as his truck. Unlike Diaz, the Origels have a dim prospect of ever being compensated for their work. Diaz was able to go to small claims court because in South Carolina one can sue for up to $7,500. In North Carolina, the amount is $5,000. “Small claims wouldn’t do anything for us, so we tried to find lawyers,” said David. “But no one would represent us, on account that the money that was owed to us was less than $10,000. Or if someone was willing to represent us, they were going to charge us more than what was owed to us. So here we are.”
White, Diaz, and the Origels all agree that labor rights education is key to preventing wage theft. In a system that can do very little for victims, it’s best to do everything possible to prevent it altogether. “The law backs these people up; no matter what your status, you have a right to get paid for your work. And it doesn’t just happen to people without papers. I’ve worked with residents and citizens as well,” said White. “I know we have to have checks and balances. We can’t just have the police going to people’s houses and saying: ‘You owe this person money, pay up.’ But there’s got to be some other way.”
While working on their case, White struck up a friendship with the Origels, and their troubles are never far from his mind. “It really makes me frustrated because the reason I like this country so much is that even though we have our problems, you have a shot here. In so many other countries, your work isn’t related to your success. … Everything’s about where you’re born or who your father is. I still feel that in this country you have a better chance to make it if you work hard. And when I see something like this happening, it goes against everything that the ‘land of milk and honey’ is supposed to stand for. I don’t know if it bothers me so much because I’m from Charlotte and this is happening in Charlotte. But just as an American, I feel like we’re supposed to stand for fairness.”
This article appears in May 17-23, 2011.
