Seemingly unaware that service workers labor under constant public scrutiny, he continues: "This man's car was spotless, his shoes were shined and he knew exactly where he was going. He wasn't dressed like that for me, he had no idea who I was, this was just another day and just another ride done in his own stylish way."
My first reaction was, What the fuck.
I've written about this before with regard to the Sartorialist's photograph of a presumably (but not assuredly) homeless black man and the commentary in which he imputes a quality of dignity to the man on the evidence of his well-matched accessories. This quality reappears here in the suit and smile, now matched with "pride in his work." Those structures of privilege or social realities that might mediate the encounter are nowhere accounted for. Instead, we are presented with what appears to be the snapshot of an individual who has risen above those unnamed social structures (only apparent in the condescension of "regardless of the job") to attain self-confidence and dignity, but who (in this story the Sartorialist tells) does not challenge those structures at all.
I want to quote again the brilliant Lauren Berlant on the icky sentimentalism of such regard:
As before, the Sartorialist's rhetoric is the affective symptom of this world-view that first expresses amazement at the other's dignity ("he wasn't dressed like that for me"/"he is communicating his sense of pride and self-worth") and second expresses self-satisfaction at his own willingness to recognize that dignity -- without ever confronting the conditions or ideologies that enable such assumptions as its absence in the first place.
The humanization strategies of sentimentality always traffic in cliché, the reproduction of a person as a thing, and thus indulge in the confirmation of the marginal subject’s embodiment of inhumanity on the way to providing the privileged with heroic occasions of recognition, rescue, and inclusion.
The comments perform this same economy of affirmation and forgetting -- this is the conditional affirmation of the other's dignity in so far as he appears to be "like us," and this is the selective forgetting of the histories of labor and race that continue to exclude the other from the measure of humanity. Especially here, because conceptions of labor are always interpolated with considerations of race, gender, sexuality, and nation, the figure of the black driver signifies in all these at once.
That is, in the following comments we see certain conceptions of contracted and service labor as they intersect with forms of racism and racialization (about black masculinity through prisms of racialized threat and its "domestication" in particular), material privileges and class comfort (consider the remarks about "trust" and "politeness"), and rules of gender stylization:
I immediately thought of Marshall (Ossie Davis) the limo driver in Joe vs the Volcano. Very nice.
He looks clean, and he looks proud of his job!
Pure style indeed. Could you post his contact information? I am in the Bay Area every few months and would like to book him.
VERY well put. everyone should take such pride in their jobs, regardless of the profession.
What a nice-looking man! You're right; taking care in one's appearance definitely inspires confidence. I'd definitely trust him to drive me anywhere.
Echoed repeatedly is the notion that "pride in one's work" is an important but increasingly rare quality. (This leads many commentators to wax nostalgic for an idealized image of the past, which carries its own historical racial connotations.) But what sort of attitude is this about those forms of labor that are comprised of economic vulnerability and racial exploitation? To emphasize, indeed to belabor, "pride in his work" as such is thus merely to raise a rather conventional attitude about the other's compliance with capitalism's often violent inequities.
That is, when does "pride in his work" slide seamlessly into "knows his place"? Such comments as "I would like to book him," "He looks proud of his job," express pleasure at what is presented as the scene of a black man proud to be at the service of others.
Thus the violence of historical servitude disappears, and it occurs to only a very few in his audience (of the commentators) that perhaps this performance is less pride and more prudence. In an uncertain economy, an individual employed in the service sector --especially as a driver or some other position requiring also affective labor (e.g., smiling, nodding, chuckling at terrible jokes)-- must perform satisfaction with their position in order to ensure their continued employment.
Showing this post to my students, many of them understood this immediately: that doing service work is a careful negotiation of bodily and sartorial performativity informed by race, gender, sexuality, and nation, under unequal conditions of labor and capital.
Meanwhile, I want to believe that this comment is the work of a minion at The Onion, because the final bit about his teeth seems so ludicrous it must be satire lampooning the racism of above-mentioned observations about the driver's cleanliness: "Well put, Sart! Regardless of one's job, even if it's just to drive people around, one should always look nice, as this gentleman certainly does. We can't see his shoes, so we'll have to take your word that they are shined, but we can see his teeth, and they are well brushed indeed, further proof of his self-esteem."
A few comments do protest ("The fact that he is a driver doesn't mean he has a personal sound track which consists of 'It's a Hard-Knock Life'......"), and Stephanie writes at length:
While allowing other comments --notably, the more obviously fucked-up ones expressing surprise and pleasure at the driver's cleanliness-- go unremarked, the Sartorialist did respond to Stephanie with a few disproportionate sentiments, including: "The problem is not me ....it's you! you try to scare people with your hyper-political correctness so everyone is scared to say anything.... Next time read what i wrote and not what you think you can twist around to fit your daily pc rant." (Oh, cliche*!) After Stephanie gently pointed out that she was just one comment among many --most of which are uniformly fawning-- and had no actual power to censor anyone on his blog, the Sartorialist apologized, sort of ("we were too harsh on each other").
You write all of this as though the fact that someone with a lower-class service job actually cares about themselves and has self-confidence and "dignity" is remarkable. He might not have been dressed like this specifically for you, but who knows why he dresses like this...could very well have something to do with wanting to get ahead in a service industry. As a friend of mine said,
"Additionally, the post, especially in remarks to politeness and "self-worth" makes me think of Richard Wright's novels, and specifically of Bigger Thomas in "Native Son," or of generations of black porters who learned to smile at every white person, or of cooks, drivers, and other employment groups of subservient Negroes that have faded into cultural memory."
Not that there is anything wrong with that on his part, just that I feel like you are romanticizing/aestheticizing away a lot of the more gruesome aspects of class, labor, and race in America. Which is potentially dangerous, and not in a good way. (Or, at least not in a good way for those of us who care about changing those conditions for the better.)
* From this post: "Underlying every complaint of 'PC' is the absurd notion that members of dominant mainstream society have been victimized by an arbitrarily hypersensitive prohibition against linguistic and cultural constructions that are considered historical manifestations of bigotry." And furthermore, from Racialicious: "Berg explains that in its original context, PC was a pejorative term used by people who felt they were losing something. Exactly what they were losing is very hard to describe, especially to them. But many sociologists and historians today have come to a consensus on what they call it: it’s a loss of privilege—and in terms of race, a loss of white privilege."