Member-only story
Pandemic Pause
The Doll Stops Here
It looks like an ordinary doll, right? Well, that’s because it is. An ordinary doll, I mean. It was made in some sweatshop in Indonesia by a little girl who didn’t know what dolls were about but did know the $4 a day she earned meant dinner for everyone every night.
Then it got shipped to a port city along with all the other freight destined to be sent to Eugene, Oregon in plenty of time for Christmas shopping. Even in Indonesia now, the containers get lifted and loaded and shoved into place perfectly by machines and the men who used to do that — ok, and sometimes losing hands or fingers in the process — were at least relieved their kids had jobs in the sweatshops. That meant there was some money coming in. Have another beer and turn the volume up on the TV.
Once the containers arrived in Eugene, each shipment got sorted and sent to the different stores by a complex algorithm designed by a 24 year-old-kid whose exit strategy ensured that he’d never have to work for the rest of his life. He’s in Bali now trying to decide between another startup or suicide. Meanwhile, our perfectly ordinary doll is routed to the smaller, older Walmart on the other side of town, the one where people pay for their groceries with food stamps.
The perfectly ordinary doll was the delight of one perfectly ordinary little girl in…
