Hadestown Reflection: Relating to the Toxic Grind at Work

There is a grind at work that feels hopeless, and a toxicity that seems to have no antidote. The songs of Hadestown resonate on so many frequencies as a result. Particularly, questioning whether we should just accept our place in life as workers on the line - there is no hope of truly freeing ourselves of the pain and relentless shoveling - "Is this how the world is?"  Hadestown seems to put in stark contrast a daily grind of work that seems hopeless - there is purposefully no end to the work in sight - and the poverty of the hippie-dippies who are "Livin' it Up On Top", celebrating their life and freedom but also facing constant hardships. You can have food and shelter, but the price is that you're chained to your work, you lose your  humanity, you lose yourself. Or you can have freedom and sunshine, but the price is you're always hungry, tired, and cold, always running, always wanting.

There's a haunting undertone sung by the chorus / mine workers, if you don't listen carefully enough, you may miss the profundity of it.

    What's the purpose of a man
    If he turns his eyes away
    Just to throw up both his hands
    What's the use of his backbone
    If he never stands with pride
    If he turns his back on everyone
    That he could have stood beside

We are lectured at with regards to ethics and safety, that if we see something, we should say something. But there are certain "untouchables" whom cannot be questioned or challenged or stood up to, even when everyone clearly knows they are in the wrong. That "untouchable" status is weirdly awarded to those quick to throw you under the bus for not adhering to oddly specific, irrelevant playbooks, but the minute you fight back, call you into the principal's office with HR. It is also awarded to anyone with high up in the ranks, especially those who have even higher-powered sponsors. What we end up hearing is, "Speak up against unethical or unsafe practices, unless they come from me, in which case, sit down, shut up, and do as you're told."

This hypocrisy goes hand in hand with the "If It's True" lyrics, that go like this:

    I'll be on my way
    If it's true what they say
    But the ones who tell the lies
    Are the solemnest to swear
    And the ones who load the dice
    Always say the toss is fair
    And the ones who deal the cards
    Are the ones who take the tricks
    With their hands over their hearts
    While we play the game they fix
    And the ones who speak the words
    Always say it is the last
    And no answer will be heard
    To the question no one asks
    So I ask you as a brother
    And I ask you as a friend
    And I ask you as a lover
    And I ask you once again
    Is it true what they say?

We continue to be reassured with words, but the evidence lies in the contradictory actions. What's worse is that this constant churn of being told lies and being tricked and played and betrayed over and over again makes us start to question whether we're not really the insane ones. When you're the only sane person in the asylum, you have no comparable person against whom to validate your sanity. That doubt isn't so far from the "Doubt Comes In" that leads to end of the tale of Orpheus and Euridice.

Perhaps, Hadestown resonates most with me, because it tells me the end of the story, and also tells me that we're going to sing it again.

    Cause, here’s the thing:
    To know how it ends
    And still begin to sing it again
    As if it might turn out this time
    I learned that from a friend of mine

I've seen the end of this story. Shutting down my greenfield plant in Panama City, laying off all of those employees,, dashing hopes of our community of bringing good jobs and business. All of that essentially because, like Orpheus, we thought we had done enough, but we were set up to fail from the beginning - we were never going to bring Euridice home. And now, the mothership site, and likely other sites, are going to shut down or be reduced, in part, because of that contract we were trying so desperately to save. We felt like we had gone to hell and back, and for naught. Yet, having seen it play out, I willingly came back to the exact same world, as if it might turn out this time.

I've always believed myself to be results-oriented, but if the logic tells me I won't get results, perhaps I'm more hope-oriented than I thought. I've always believed where there is a will, there is a way. Find another way. How many times must I sing the sad song before I will learn? And when I learn, which will I choose? To sell my soul, lose my humanity and work on the chain gang? Or live free but poor? Are there truly no other options?