“So, why did you decide to work at a bar?” is one question that has repeatedly come up in my conversations over summer, often followed closely behind by piqued curiosity about the possibility of free alcohol. As I very quickly found out, such visions of happy hours spent in high spirits were, rather unfortunately, not to be. In the many moments of sombre sobriety that were spent waiting on tables, my thoughts wandered between two not so disparate thoughts: “why did I choose this job, really?”, and, “why does one get this sense of a peculiar mix of intrigue and subtle distaste—at times bordering on thinly veiled disdain—in those asking the question?”
The first of these thoughts, being more personal and therefore particular, is perhaps more easily addressed. The rationale logic train goes something like this: a part-time night job would allow the flexibility to plan my work schedule in advance, while still keeping time free for school matters and for retaining some semblance of a social life. Furthermore, everyone knows that the latter years of an undergraduate’s course of study should be spent on serious business—work attachments and internships, research proposals and thesis-crafting, not such frivolous activity as waiting tables at a hip watering hole. After all, I rationalized, if I wanted to try for a novel experience, the best time to attempt it would be early on in university, since it’s hardly as if you’d want to be wiping tables and clearing dishes when you are in your thirties. But here my thoughts hit a snag, for I it dawned upon me that they had begun to reflect the very societal stereotype that I had initially set out to unpack and critique—the oft unspoken sentiment that certain industries are inherently ‘dirty’ and undesirable to work in.
One industry that has become victim to such sentiment is the food and beverage industry. I am reminded of a STOMP article in April earlier this year that surrounds the marriage of a fresh graduate to a chicken rice seller; a move that the author terms as “marrying down”. On cursory reading, the article appears to proffer that socio-economic stratification is growing less pronounced in Singapore. Its affirming tone towards citizens’ positive reactions to the marriage, observed in how the author quotes “STOMPer Sephora” in calling the union “admirable”, suggests that Singaporeans are becoming increasingly open-minded towards the notion of relationships between individuals of different educational qualifications. However, seemingly innocuous statements such as “despite her background” and “marrying down” leave one feeling curious as to whether such cross-educational unions have really become normalized in Singapore. Embedded within these two phrases is the implication of an aberration in conventional societal norms. That the author should not only choose to highlight the uncommon nature of the marriage, but also connote that such an action was something almost altruistic (the graduate married the chicken rice seller “despite her background”) is indicative of what is perceived to be the ‘natural’ outcome of a university education. Indeed, during my time at work I had often encountered questions from fellow colleagues about what an undergraduate was doing working in the food and beverage industry. While seemingly affirmative of the notion that some occupations are inherently worthy of less esteem, I would contend that to believe so would be to misunderstand the situation completely. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if the issue at hand is not so much one concerned about societal perceptions regarding the respectability of an occupation. Who is to say that one vocation is more honourable or respectable than another? I do not think that a carpenter’s skill with his hands is in any arguable way objectively subordinate to that of, say, a lecturer’s talent for teaching. It would appear then, that the ‘dirty occupation’ approach towards analyzing reactions towards instances such as the graduate’s marriage to the hawker is not wholly satisfactory.
Allow me to offer two interrelated thoughts arising from this observation: first, as we have already established, there exists the perception—and it is but a perception, no doubt—that certain industries are in some way socially inferior in nature and therefore unsuited for those who have “had an education”. Secondly, and perhaps more pertinently, there is a presumption that obtaining a degree not only provides qualification (through a piece of paper that passes as proof of capability), but that the degree necessarily destines one for cushy, air-conditioned destinations as an academic, scientist or white collar worker. Notably, these sentiments seem to be shared across the spectrum, such that very clear expectations of what a university student should and should not do have developed in the collective consciousness. It is a worrying thought that this should be so, almost as if universities were merely vocational institutes for intelligentsia, and nothing else. That certain fields should be considered unworthy of the education one has received reflects an unnecessarily inflated view of what a university education actually offers, as well as what this education entails.
I do not suppose that society’s adverse reaction towards graduates taking on blue collar jobs will dissipate in the foreseeable future, for it is not in the nature of stigmas to be prone to rapid change. Nevertheless, it is my hope that we grow to realize how knowledge may similarly be found beyond conventional post-university paths, and that it is our duty to respect its pursuit, wherever that may take someone.