I was looking to escape from the abstractions and theories that, until that point, made up most of my days as a doctoral student in the social sciences at the University of Washington. I was tired of rearranging text on a screen and longed for the type of work that involved my hands.
A day’s labor at Pike Place Market, the nation’s oldest public market, means selling over $1,000 worth of cherries, learning something new about a neighboring vendor, and speaking Cantonese and Mandarin Chinese with tourists. These are the specific and concrete ways I feel successful—a stark contrast to the ambiguous notions of success that characterize my graduate studies.
However, not everyone comes to this work in order to escape abstraction. Working at various markets throughout Seattle, I’ve met other gig workers who were in some sort of transition. Maimoona is a recent college graduate hoping to work full time in an arts-focused organization, but in the meantime she has an internship with an art school, while also working for a movie theater and the farm. Lucas is a licensed massage therapist who holds five jobs. Per has been meeting farmers’ daily deliveries and helping vendors set up and close down shop for the past couple of years. He told me that he purposefully wanted to “start at the very bottom” so that someday he might have his own stall at the market, selling his blown-glass creations. The flexible schedules help them make ends meet while continuing to take steps toward the careers they desire.
The farmers market community is both local and global. Talking to the Chinese-speaking tourists from China, Taiwan, Canada, and Australia reconnects me to the Chinese diaspora. Locally, the workers are bound together by the informal gift economy of market culture. On any given day, I can trade up to two pounds of cherries for coffee, cigarettes, and produce from other farms. Cherries serve as currency as well as social capital—by spreading general neighborly good will and cheer.
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