An Article About Many of My Neighbors

Oliver Whang's article "The Hard Times and Uncertain Future of a Casino Worker in Atlantic City" is currently on the New Yorker's web page. It describes the challenges of Andrea Barbarotta, a woman who, until recently worked at the Golden Nugget casino. (Pictured above.) The casino was originally owned by Donald Trump and called the Trump Castle and, later, the Trump Marina before being sold and renamed the Golden Nugget.

Apart from the time she took off to have kids, she worked in the same building for more than thirty years. “And I was doing just fine,” she told me. “Until the pandemic.” ...

For the first time in her life, Barbarotta had to rely solely on unemployment benefits. She got around seven hundred dollars a week, roughly a half to a third of what she normally made. She had some savings, too, and so she was fine for a while, though being so reliant on the government unnerved her. As the weeks stretched into months, expenses added up. Her union, UNITE HERE! Local 54, which represents more than ten thousand hospitality workers in New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania, hosted a big food give-out every month. Barbarotta volunteered to distribute food both so she could help others and so she could feel like she was working for the box she took home at the end of the day. She started prioritizing rent, food, and Internet bills, but fell behind on utilities and car payments.

After the pandemic continued to affect the Atlantic City tourism and casino industry

Barbarotta’s understanding of her situation started to shift. What she’d regarded as an exercise in positive thinking—this is all temporary, things will return to normal soon—now felt like wishfulness. “And now you start to think, ‘Well, is it ever going to be the same?’ ” she said. “And I don’t, you know, have any education. This is all I’ve ever done.” She began reconsidering her life. “My older kids are, like, ‘Well, why do you have to have a three bedroom?’ Well, I don’t have to, but that’s what I had because I could afford that. So I can’t just get out of it. That’s my lease. Same with my car. I don’t need to have a four-hundred-and-fifty-dollar car payment, but I do.” The question she’d been asking herself changed from “How can I manage all my expenses?” to “How much of my past can I afford to hold on to?”

Barbarotta is in a situation similar to many of the people who live on my street, in my neighborhood, and who send their children to the same school my daughter attends.