Why the Shaming of ‘Joe-Jobs’ Must Stop
“Every Job Is Worthwhile”
The Oscar-Winning Cobbler & The Grocery-Bagging Actor
In the mid-90s, a man and his wife vacationed for the summer in Florence, Italy, in an effort to escape the hubbub and stir of their lavish North American life. There, in the balmy heat of the bright, sunny peninsula, the man, with his insatiable appetite for perfection, became acquainted with famed Italian cobbler, Stefano Bemer. Bemer, to be sure, shared the same desire for excellence.
The man, who just happened to be Academy-Award-Winner Daniel Day-Lewis, was fascinated with the care and magnificence that Bemer put into his work and likened it to the precision with which he approached the craft of acting. Both men were artists, and both tackled their work in a similar fashion. It was an easy decision, therefore, for Day-Lewis to apprentice with Bemer, showing up at 8am every morning for eight months between 1999 and 2000.
It sounds like the back-cover copy of a quaint paperback novel, but it is, in fact the famous true story of how an Oscar-winner abandoned Hollywood for a time to live a quiet life as a professional cobbler.
Certainly, the idea of giving up a lavish life of celebrity to live, unannounced, devoting oneself to hard and precise labor carries an idealist notion with it when it’s done by the rich and famous. I mention Jim Carrey quite a bit in my articles because I am often fascinated with his trajectory — he, too, took time away from the spotlight to prioritize his visual art, amassing quite a collection. Perhaps it’s easy to see where he got his ideas for work outside of the spotlight from. I particularly enjoy the scene in Man on the Moon (starring Carrey) where actor and comedian Andy Kaufman is spotted as a busboy at a restaurant while simultaneously starring in the hit sitcom Taxi — something he allegedly did do, just for fun.
When the A-listers do this, it’s an anecdotal footnote in their story. Perhaps because, as it pertains to such heavyweights as Day-Lewis and Carrey, we get the sense that this is only a blip in their Hollywood story. Or in the case of Kaufman, it’s part of their quirky personalty that adds to the performance-art piece that is their life. They’ll most certainly be back in the spotlight (Day-Lewis returned to Hollywood for Gangs of New York, although has since announced full retirement from the profession following Phantom Thread… who knows what else awaits him in his journey). Even Tom Holland of Spider-Man: No Way Home fame has recently toyed with the idea of stepping back from films to explore other aspects of his life, including raising a family. Big words for someone who is currently at the top of Mount Hollywood — and likely will continue to be for years to come. And of course, there is a freedom that said A-listers have with which to do this. They are, often, not bound by financial constraints or (at the level of Day-Lewis, Carrey, and Holland) a risk of their fame-status wavering due to prolonged absence. They have reached the summit. What else is there to do at that point but explore the life of a quiet civilian?
When members of the B-List, C-list, D-list or those-who-never-made-the-list do this, however, it takes on a completely different tone in the collective zeitgeist, saturated with suggestions of shame, ridicule, and judgement. This came to a head when former Cosby Show actor, Geoffrey Owens was spotted working as a grocery clerk at Trader Joe’s in 2018. He was filmed at his work place by a shopper and when the video began circling online, news outlets ran with it. Why? How often have you been enraptured by click-bait articles akin to “Remember Elvin from The Cosby Show — See Where They Are Now and Why Hollywood Won’t Hire Them Anymore!” Like most questions pertaining to news coverage these days, it gets the clicks and sells a ton of ad space… People love a story of perceived failure almost more than one of perceived success. It has all the features of a car-wreck you can’t look away from. Owens, to his credit, pushed back against this rhetoric, with the help of numerous other industry veterans and celebrities. “There is no job that’s better than another job. It might pay better, it might have better benefits, it might look better on a resume and on paper. But actually, it’s not better,” he said in an interview, “Every job is worthwhile and valuable. No one should feel sorry for me. I’ve had a great life. I’ve had a great career, I’ve had a career that most actors would die for.”
Other actors chimed in, shaming outlets for “trying to humiliate [an] honorable, hardworking actor.” Even Brooklyn Nine-Nine star, Terry Crews, stated, “I swept floors AFTER the NFL. If need be, I’d do it again. Good honest work is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Yet, society seems to have trouble with this last statement, unless of course, in the case of Daniel Day-Lewis, it is done by choice — carrying an air of whimsy and artistic romance with it all the while. Anything of the sort that is not done willingly (i.e. as a way to make ends meet), is viewed as a tumbling fall from the tower of success.
This, of course, is a fault of our Western ideology of Consumerism and Capitalism, which has long forced its spidery tendrils into the arts where it manifests as an absolute obsession with celebrity. You are only as good as your last big win, and you must, therefore, continue to win. To step out of the game in any way, shape, or form, is to lose your relevance and worth. There is, understandably, a difference between stepping away from acting or celebrity to pursue another artistic endeavor versus stepping away to bag groceries. The former has a good deal of privilege and opportunity attached to it while the latter is often, though not always, due to circumstance. However, this also opens the can of worms around why we view the pursuit of artistic endeavors as being more noble than almost any other job out there.
The Role of the Storyteller
I’ve made a large part of this dwell around artists and celebrities who now live “seemingly” normal lives with average-Joe jobs because our perception of the role of the storyteller in society has become completely inflated and mixed-up with celebrity. From the days of telling stories around a fire in caves to now, we have placed these stewards of tales on pedestals from which the only way down is to crash and fall — and you best bet TMZ will be there to capture it when that happens.
We also tend to only view true success in the arts as the moment you can ditch your Joe-Job for full-time artistic freedom. This is often referred to as having “made it”. And sure, that sounds wonderful on some level, but if that never happens… are you any less of an artist, or, dare I say it, success?
I appreciate those who have either recognized, with precious humility, that they need secondary jobs to support themselves in their artistic endeavors and passions (numerous successful Broadway actors, for one). And I also appreciate and respect those who realized that a life of celebrity, fame, or artistry simply wasn’t for them. 80s stars Phoebe Cates and Michael Schoeffling come to mind.
The ‘Joe-Job’
In 2019, I had just had one of the best summers of my life as a professional actor. I was in two productions, one of which was touring — we stopped into four different cities within a few weeks. The other was a dream role I had wanted since I was thirteen. I was also working as a Front of House Usher at one of Canada’s premier theaters; this, to supplement my income in a completely insane economy, or perhaps because I just enjoyed it — does it really matter? As far as Joe Jobs went, it was pretty cool. Flexible hours. Decent pay. And the opportunity to work in a landmark historical building that was both gorgeous as it was prestigious. Not to mention all the free shows I got to see! Yet, not everyone saw it this way.
A few weeks after my final performance that summer, I walked a couple to their front row seats for a matinee performance of Anastasia. Dressed in my uniform tuxedo, I handed them their programs: “And just a reminder, no photos during the performance. Enjoy!”
“Wait a minute,” they said. “You were in Tuesdays with Morrie at the Capitol! And we saw you in Dean & Jerry at the Opera House! We loved those shows!”
“Haha, yeah. That was me.”
And then they said, “Well… What are you doing here…?”
They meant no harm by it. They were actually quite lovely. But they were baffled at the idea that the guy they had collectively spent $100–$200 on to have entertain them that summer was now guiding them to their seats in what seemed like a job that was, perhaps, beneath him and his perceived success.
Other times, people have been even more direct and judgemental. Whether I was behind an espresso machine at a coffee shop or behind the bar at the theater, serving them their pre-show drinks, I was often asked: “So what do you actually want to do?”
To them, I often trolled in my responses: “Nothing. I love doing this.”
Their reaction would be pure and utter bafflement.
“No, I mean… Actually. Like what do you actually want to do with your life?”
And I would continue with a smile, “Just this!”
I know some were just trying to get to know the guy behind the counter — and that’s all well and good — but depending on what mood I was in, I felt like making a point. I must admit, seeing the looks on their faces was quite fun.
There are jobs out there that are deemed only worthy of the lowest educated, lowest capable, and lowest contributors of society. We are quick to judge those who work in these roles— whether they be factory workhouses, fast-food joints, or other customer service positions. Worse, we judge those who appear to be “older” in these positions. A 40/50-year-old Walmart greeter or McDonald’s worker, by society’s standards, suggests someone who never made something of their life.
This is a terrible generalization to make.
A Higher Purpose
In one of my favorite books, Way of the Peaceful Warrior, there is a segment in which the spiritual guru/gas station attendant with the cheeky nickname ‘Socrates’ muses over his apprentice’s bafflement over being made to do mundane tasks like cleaning the toilet in the name of spiritual education (much like Daniel waxing the car and painting the fence in The Karate Kid). “Knowledge is knowing. Wisdom is doing,” he says.
When the guru/gas attendant, after being ridiculed by his apprentice for living a lowly life at a gas station, is asked why he treats ungrateful customers with such joy, care, and attention, he responds, “Devote yourself to a higher purpose: service to others.”
Since there seems to be a whole trend of normalizing things online these days, here you go:
Normalize treating every person’s job with respect. Every job is, indeed, worthwhile and in an era where there seems to be defined lines drawn in the sand in this regard, the minimum wage workers holding double jobs with or without passions are essential and matter.
Normalize having accomplishments and needing to take a step back and put your nose to the grindstone for awhile to do hard labor in the name of a paycheck.
The Daniel Day-Lewises, Jim Carreys, and Tom Hollands of the world certainly have a luxury in being able to explore other jobs and careers on a whim and on their own accord. But perhaps we can learn from them that no matter how successful you may or may not become by society’s standards, you are more than the title people give you. Or the one that you bestow upon yourself.
I’ll add that every shoemaker, stay-at-home parent, or grocery store clerk has value and, beyond that, a story worth telling. Their unseen art and stories have value. And absolutely no one should be ashamed for approaching their minimum wage job or hard labor with care and pride, no matter how old they are, or how little it pays, or how much it seems like they’ve stepped down from the ladder of success.
There’s no shame in doing the work.
Now, wax on, wax off.
