The Contributist and the Capitalist, Part II — The Community Actor
Word spreads rather quickly, and Olivia’s tutoring services have become so sought after that she can’t keep up with the demand. So, she decides it’s time to scale up. She gives her business a name (Strong Minds, LLC) and hires and trains two employees, Laila and Markus, to take on additional clients. They prove to be reliable and effective tutors; although they don’t have as much experience as she does, they receive generally positive reviews from their clients. The business is so successful that she’s finally able to breathe a bit; she’s cut back her own hours to spend more time with her daughter, and she’s making more money than she ever expected to, even putting aside some savings for the first time.
But over a couple of years, a worrying trend begins and then accelerates. The need for private tutoring, which boomed during the COVID-19 pandemic, is declining as schooling returns to normalcy and inflation makes everyone more conscious of spending. As old students graduate, new ones don’t take their places as quickly as they used to. Once again, the business is under dire financial strain. But this time, she’s not worried about her ability to support her own income — instead, it’s become clear that the business is no longer making enough to be able to support the salaries of its three employees.
Olivia The Capitalist
The capitalist Olivia is primarily concerned with her business’s ability to succeed in this difficult economic climate. And, having spent years teaching AP Calculus, she can read the financial picture as well as anyone. No amount of workload-balancing, rate adjustment, or penny-pinching will fix this problem — there’s simply not enough demand for their services, and no way that the business can support the income of both of her employees. She realizes that she’s going to have to make the hard, but ultimately necessary choice: one of the employees will have to be laid off.
Since they’re both paid the same salary and were hired at the same time, she decides to make the decision purely based on performance. She calls up Laila (whose performance ratings were lower than Markus’) that Friday evening, and tells her the bad news. Then she calls Markus, and tells him as well. He’s stunned and saddened by the loss of a close coworker, but grateful to still have a job. Olivia weakly congratulates him for his strong performance, and hangs up the phone. She sighs and pours herself a glass of whisky, confident that she made the right choice, but hoping to never have to do something like that again.
Olivia The Contributist
The contributist Olivia is worried about her business’s success, but she doesn’t see success as purely financial. Financial solvency is important only because it is necessary to enable what she sees as true success for the business — the continued protection of her and her employees’ right to contribute to their community.
But she’s looked at the numbers every way and it’s clear that it’s just not possible to support all three of their salaries in this economic climate. She calls a meeting with her employees and explains the grim financial picture in detail. She tells them that her primary goal is to ensure that they can all continue to do this work, but that even if they cut every possible expense, they’ll still be running at a $20,000 deficit this year. In just a few months, there won’t be enough money in the bank to support their paychecks.
There’s silence for a few moments after she finishes her presentation.
“Does this mean you’re going to lay one of us off?” Laila asks directly. She tries not to show it, but her heart is sinking. She knows she’s going to be the one to go — Markus is simply the better tutor.
“I can’t pretend I haven’t thought about that,” replies Olivia with a grimace. “But I know that you two care about this community and these kids just as much as I do. I want to do everything I can to protect that — to make sure that we can all continue to participate in this work. But I just can’t find a way to make the numbers add up. I’m just — I’m stuck. That’s why I wanted to bring you two into the conversation.”
There’s another long silence.
“What if we . . . reduce our salaries this year?” Markus asks quietly.
“I’ve thought about that, too,” replies Olivia glumly. “But there’s not much there to reduce. You and Laila are already barely making a living wage, and I have a kid to feed; I can’t take a twenty thousand dollar pay cut.”
“It’s not twenty thousand, though, right?” Markus says. “I can’t speak for Laila, but I’ve got savings — I could stand to lose a few thousand this year and still be alright. I mean, what are our other options? I love this job.” He takes a sharp breath. “Anyway, if Laila and I each take a pay cut of, say, five thousand, then that leaves ten thousand, not twenty.”
Laila speaks up. “I, um, I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t think I can afford a pay cut,” she says, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. There’s another long silence.
Suddenly, Laila’s face lights up. “At my last job, we used to rely a lot on grants from the government and nonprofits. I know this is nerdy, but I used to love grant-writing. It was a different field, but there have to be some education grants we could apply for. I still have a couple of friends in that space; I could try making some calls and see if anything turns up.”
Olivia had thought about this, but at the time, she had dismissed it. Writing was never her strong suit, and she knew almost nothing about the byzantine grant-writing process — except that even if they could find something, it would take months for any money to materialize. That had originally seemed like too long to wait — but maybe not if they could buy themselves some time by cutting back their salaries.
She closes her eyes for a moment, as she does some quick math in her head. She could maybe stand to lower her salary by five thousand this year, but the other ten? That would mean draining all of her savings.
She opens her eyes. “Markus, you can really take a five thousand dollar pay cut this year? Don’t bullshit me, I need to know that you can afford it.”
Markus nods.
“And Laila, how do you feel about shifting your time into doing some grant research? Markus can pick up some of your students, since his schedule’s been a bit light anyway.”
Laila nods vigorously. She would never say it because she loves her students to death, but she had privately been starting to doubt if she was really cut out for tutoring anyway. She can’t help but feel that this opportunity to pivot back into something she excels at is heaven-sent — she can practically feel her fear melting into excitement.
“Okay,” Olivia says, finally. “You guys are the best. The most important thing is that we get to keep serving these kids; I appreciate both of you for being willing to adjust. Laila, I need you to get started on this grant research yesterday — start reaching out to your friends and see what you can find. And Markus, I promise you that these salary cuts that you and I are taking are only temporary. Once we get our financial situation figured out, we’re all getting a raise.”
The meeting soon ends, and they all get started on their work. And by the end of the day, despite the bad financial news, each one of them goes home feeling somehow better — both more energized, more grateful, and more connected to their coworkers.
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