Our polyglot night crew

I work with a young guy who came here from a country roiled by terrorism. (I’m not going to name it, because I don’t want to identify him.)

He works nights at Wegmans, stocking snack foods, flour, and sugar. Days, he works toward a college degree.

I met him when he interviewed for the job and have come to know him as a friendly, caring man who was appalled when he learned he had been addressing me by the wrong name.

His family is still in his homeland, which he describes as beautiful but “not a good place to live.”

I suspect his paycheck carries him week to week; I don’t know if there’s enough left over to send money home to his mother, but he seems like the sort of son who would figure out a way.

This long-haired 20-something is following a path forged by the many immigrants who helped build our country. Wegmans, I suspect, has smoothed that path for thousands of people like him.

The small night crew at my store speaks half a dozen languages. One aloof guy from eastern Europe plays opera as he stocks diapers and paper goods. Several team members have come from tumultuous parts of South America. The cleaning contractors are Ukrainian.

While immigrant labor is a frequent focus in coverage of chicken-processing and meat-packing plants, it is often overlooked in the grocery industry.

Face it, whatever the economic sector, newcomers often are willing to fill hard, low-paying positions that many other Americans avoid.

This may change as we feel the economic repercussions of COVID-19. Unemployed middle-class workers may turn to jobs they never would have considered in more comfortable days.

In the meantime, people like my young colleague are proving themselves, earning their way, night after night. Like immigrants at other links along the supply chain, they are helping us to get through this.

An America without them would be…well, not America.