The union’s army of hospitality workers has already knocked on more than 750,000 doors this campaign season, according to union leaders, who believe they can tip the election in favor of the largely Democratic slate they’re currently supporting. The average member is a 44-year-old Latina.Ĭanvassing expertise is another big advantage. About 55 percent of members are women, and 45 percent are immigrants. But its diverse membership includes constituencies that political professionals believe hold the keys to power. The local - often referred to by members simply as Culinary, or 226 - hasn’t always prevailed in this swing state’s races. “Anything they’ve ever asked me to do to help, I’ve done.” Padilla, 53, is among the hundreds of members who take paid leaves of absence from their jobs (another contract provision) to campaign for candidates the union supports. But campaign visits to the union hall by presidential candidates - Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Joe Biden - over the years attest to this local’s unusual brand: political power. Padilla, all would spend the rest of the day knocking on voters’ doors in a city that has long been an electoral pivot in this swing state, and beyond.Įven in the world of organized labor, hospitality workers have never been much of a force. There were energizing chants (“2-2-6!” “We vote, we win!”) and speeches from politicians pleading for the support of the 400 assembled servers, cooks, bussers and guest room attendants. The meeting he’d just attended was part business session, part political rally. Padilla, a pastry chef, was on his way out of the headquarters of the Culinary Workers Union 226. It was 20 days before the midterm elections, and Mr. LAS VEGAS - Carlos Padilla walked to his pickup truck with a shoulder bag full of campaign literature and an agenda for shaping the future of the country. "I'm just focused on Election Day," Stahl said, as she walked to the next door, ready for whatever it would bring.Follow our live coverage of the 2022 midterm elections for the latest news and updates. Starbucks might need her back for the holidays, or they might not. She might do communications work with the union. If there's a run-off election in Georgia she might go and canvass there. "People could be flying to go to a funeral."īut she isn't sure when she'll return to making drinks. "One of the things that we are, like, constantly trying to remind ourselves is that we don't know why people are flying," she said. She has a generous approach to demanding customers who order five minutes before boarding their plane. She likes working at Starbucks too, in part for the same reason - "I love being able to talk to people and meet people" - but also because it's fast-paced, making drinks is fun, and she has great co-workers. "Even if you don't pay attention, or, like, you don't know the ins and outs of everything, you still deserve to have a voice and it still deserves to be heard," she said. Part of it, she said, is never knowing who you're going to talk to, or where the conversation will go.Ī big part of it is about convincing people their vote matters. You must really want to have this unpaid job.'" Coffee and politics "It is in my mind so much more impactful when a candidate, especially in a down ballot race, comes to a door," Gaudio said. But she believes canvassing makes a difference. She wishes more people would be willing to talk about politics face to face rather than relentlessly complaining online. "It’s really been informative for me on just gauging the temperature of politics in Arizona," she said. "It’s really quite, quite disturbing to me."įor Gaudio, canvassing for school board has been a window into the electorate. People will ask her about critical race theory, or accuse teachers of encouraging students to try out new gender identities. "I have been getting a lot of the culture war conversations going on at the doors," she said. The Sinclairs were a high point, she said, but school board races have become increasingly politicized and other conversations have been "disrespectful." Gaudio is a staunch public school supporter running on a platform of equity and restoring trust within school communities. "I'm tired," she told The Republic, laughing.Įven so, she remembered the Sinclairs right away. For the past six weeks or so, she has gone out almost daily. Gaudio started canvassing in late February, pounding the pavement weekly all through summer. The woman at their door was Mary Gaudio, a candidate for Scottsdale school board.
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