<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9601110856
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
960407
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, April 07, 1996
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1E
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1996, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
WHY DO SO MANY EXPECT A FREE RIDE?
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
Years ago, when I was young and broke, I worked as a security guard in New
York City. The job was in Harlem. My shift began at 7 p.m. and didn't end
until 3 in the morning. Each hour I had to take  a lap around my designated
building, then go back to the "guard station" -- a wooden shack, not much
bigger than a phone booth, with a bulky port-o-toilet inside.

  Five nights a week, I would sit  in that shack, under the light of a single
bulb, and try to ignore the sickening smell of disinfectant and human waste.

  I did not take the job to build a career. I took it because I needed the
money.  I could have qualified for welfare; the thought never occurred to me.
I was healthy. I was willing. I worked. I got paid.
  This memory came back to me last week, when I returned to New York City,
and witnessed the fuss over a new proposal by mayor Rudolph Giuliani. His
proposal called for welfare mothers -- not all, just some -- to work 20 hours
a week in city agencies.
  The jobs were not  glamorous, nor permanent, but they were necessary. They
ranged from answering phones to mopping floors to cleaning bedpans.
  There was no pay, except for the welfare benefits. But if you refused the
work, your benefits could be cut off. The requirement, by the way, was only
for mothers with children in school. Those with infants were not included.
  Some folks thought this was a great idea. After  all, the work needed to be
done. And the city was under pressure to reduce its welfare rolls. Besides,
maybe this would inspire better work habits. At the very least, it would
discourage deadbeats, right?
  That's not the way the critics saw it.
The right not to work
  One welfare mother, interviewed by a New York newspaper, said: "I won't do
it. Give us a real job. I already know how to use a mop."
  Of course, the logical response is: If you already know how to use a mop,
why haven't you found work using that skill? But in today's political climate,
that would be insensitive.
  "This is slavery  without shackles," cried a Brooklyn councilwoman.
  Of course, the logical response is: Slavery didn't come with a guaranteed
paycheck and a 20-hour-a-week limit. But saying that also would be
insensitive.
  Now, please understand. I am not one of those dittoheads who think anyone
on welfare is a dumb, irresponsible drain on society. Nor do I believe that
most welfare mothers sit around watching TV and  ignoring their kids.
  But I do believe that able-bodied people should not expect money for
nothing, and that helping city agencies (with recent cuts, they certainly need
help) not only gives something  back to the source of your welfare checks, but
also serves the community.
  Sure, it's not as good as a job-training program that would lead to
permanent work. But nobody is saying do one instead of the other. Besides, is
it wrong to ask for 20 hours a week in exchange for a check? Is there some law
that says welfare should not include any heavy lifting? 
  What amazes me about people who say  "How dare they do this?" is their
inherent suggestion that a benefits check is somehow guaranteed by nature. The
fact is, welfare, as we know it today, only came about in the early 1960s.
Before that,  you had to prove all kinds of hardship.
  "Already know how to use a mop" would not have qualified.
The right to work
  As this story developed in New York, across the world, in Gdansk, Poland,
a man returned to his old job at the shipyard. It was blue-collar work, fixing
battery-powered carts. The pay was 650 zlotys a month, or about $85 a week.
  The man's name is Lech Walesa.
  He used  to be his country's president.
  "I like working," Walesa said from the docks. He also had no choice. After
he was voted out of office, his pension was denied and his bank accounts were
frozen. He  needed the money, so he went back to the shipyard. He didn't
demand a free check, although he'd certainly done more government work than
most. He didn't say, "Hey, this greasy-fingernail stuff is beneath  me."
  Walesa is 52, and in far worse health than many Americans taking welfare
checks today. But the difference is attitude. We have become a nation of
blame, a nation that thinks the good life we  see on TV is an entitlement, not
a fantasy.
  So we complain about putting something back in the coffers, and we attack
anything that looks like exploitation -- except if it's the government being
exploited,  because somehow, the government deserves it.
  I think back to that port-o-toilet in Harlem, and I remember hating every
minute of that job. But I also remember the feeling I had when I picked up my
check: I felt that I had earned it.
  Does that even count anymore?
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
EMPLOYMENT; WELFARE
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
