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LAS VEGAS – Bobby Hernandez plans to spend his pacing test on medication to manage his diabetes. Wilma Estrella will use hers to pay the electricity bill. Lizbeth Ramos intends to make up the rent, although the money won’t be enough to cover all she owes.
They are hardly alone: No state’s workforce has been hit as hard by the coronavirus pandemic as that of Nevada, and people are particularly struggling in Las Vegas, a booming city where Tourist dollars and lavish tips have given way to closed hotels and weed. -parking lots.
It’s hard to remember the level of optimism and exuberance that prevailed here a year ago, as presidential candidates crossed the state for Democratic caucuses. The economy had recovered from the Great Recession and it could appear that the growth was unlimited.
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Today, the gloomy desperation is only softened by the hope that vaccinations will bring in tourists eager to celebrate and spend. Although most casinos have reopened, they have a small fraction of the tourists they once had. Many restaurants have closed for good, and those that are open have limited capacity.
As a result, a year after the start of the pandemic, Las Vegas has the highest unemployment rate among major cities, with over 10% unemployed, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, and over the past year, Nevada’s workforce lost more. income than in any other state.
For many, the only thing that cushioned the blow was the federal stimulus checks. Now, more money is on the way: The $ 1.9 trillion relief bill President Joe Biden signed on Thursday would direct around $ 4 billion to the state. Vice President Kamala Harris plans to visit the city on Monday, as part of the administration’s efforts to rally public support for the measure.
But for those who manage to pull through, the promise of another stimulus payment hasn’t relieved the anguish of knowing that whatever help it gets will almost certainly fail.
“I’m scared every day, right now, every time I think about my bills,” said Ramos, a 32-year-old waitress, as she loaded bags from a pantry into her trunk an recent afternoon. “Basically every morning I wake up thinking where my help is going to come from – is it here? Is it the government? I don’t really know who is looking for people like me.
Because the economy relies so heavily on tourism and the service industry, Nevada – and Las Vegas in particular – is one of the most economically vulnerable regions in the country. The coronavirus has pushed the state to an economic cliff even more dramatically than the recession did ten years ago.
Last year, the Democratic-controlled Legislature slashed the state budget by some $ 1.2 billion, halting construction projects and slashing funding for the health care budget. In April, Nevada recorded an unemployment rate of 29.5%, higher than in any state in any month since the Bureau of Labor Statistics began tracking unemployment rates for states in 1976.
The slowdown caused many Nevadans to struggle to keep pace. According to an analysis by the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, a liberal research group, about 1 million Nevada residents, about 45 percent of the state’s adults, have fallen behind on basic household spending.
One of them is MaryAnn Bautista, a single mother of five. She said she still remembers the shock she felt a year ago when managers at the hotel where she worked told her she was fired. She couldn’t hold back her tears as she finished her shift at the buffet there. When a few customers asked if they could help, she could only shake her head.
Over the past year, she has received help from her adult children, food banks and a program run by her union to help cover a month’s rent. It is also affected by unemployment.
But what Bautista wants most is the job she’s held for over 17 years, which she will lose permanently unless she is called up for a quarterback next week. (Under the union contract, she is entitled to the same job and seniority if she is called back to work within a year – after that, the job claim evaporates.)
“I’m struggling so much, I’m lying awake in my bed figuring out what I can afford this time, what can wait a little longer?” she said.
Bautista is particularly distressed that her teenage daughter has started working up to 40 hours a week at a local amusement park to try and help pay the bills.
“There’s no way out of this until I have a job,” she said. “That’s what I think every time I break down.”
Even as infection rates decline, there are signs the economy could deteriorate again – nearly 100,000 fewer residents in the state were employed last month compared to February last year . Jobs are even worse for low-wage workers, falling about 23% among residents earning less than $ 27,000 a year, according to the Center for American Progress. Unemployment insurance claims are more than triple what they were in 2019, according to the study.
And it’s unclear whether the Glittering City will ever return to its pre-pandemic heyday. After longtime casino mogul Sheldon Adelson died in January, his company sold its two properties in Las Vegas, saying it would focus on its business in Asia.
“We are in a wounded world here when it comes to Las Vegas,” said Rob Goldstein, president and CEO of Las Vegas Sands, in July. “I have never felt so gloomy as I do today about what is going on in Las Vegas.”
Just over a year ago, the Las Vegas Culinary Academy ballroom hosted presidential candidates, there to speak with leaders of the state’s most powerful union and the one of the most politically powerful in the country. Today, the ballroom is covered in onion skins and dried beans, as dozens of workers pack boxes full of food for unemployed union members. About half of all members are still unemployed – an improvement from last spring when more than 90% were unemployed.
“We’ve never had anything like this before,” said Geoconda Argüello-Kline, union leader of Culinary Workers Local 226. “We have more needs than ever and we need to realize that this is an emergency. Democrats always say they are for the workers, so we elect them, and now we expect them to find more ways to help in this crisis.
Late last year, Guadalupe Rodriguez left the house she had rented for over a decade and moved into a ranch-style home with one of her colleagues at the Strat Hotel. Both were fired last March. With another roommate, they collect enough money to pay the mortgage and household bills. But she finds it difficult not to get angry with the government.
“I haven’t asked for much in my life, but now we need help,” Rodriguez said.
She was unable to receive stimulus funds last year, she said, because she was married at the time to an immigrant to the country illegally. This time around, she’ll get a check, but in her mind, it was spent before it even arrived. “It feels like they’re doing these things, they get attention, but the money isn’t going to stay,” she says. “We will suffer again tomorrow.”
The short bursts of money from stimulus checks create a cyclical life experience, as the relief of being able to make certain payments or buy food gives way to the anxiety of upcoming bills.
“The stimulus money shortens the line for food in a pantry and when it evaporates the lines get longer again,” said Larry Scott, COO of Three Square Food Bank, the largest in southern Nevada. “We’re going to have a long, long, long recovery here. What politicians should be focusing on is more than a short-term solution. Rather than a lot of money in a short period of time, we should have more money over a longer period. “
The pain also disproportionately hurts those who can least afford it, sending families who were already on the brink of poverty onto the streets; families living in tents now inhabit highway underpasses throughout the region.
Bautista, the single mother of five, knows she is one of the lucky ones. She signed up and received unemployment checks within weeks, while some of her former colleagues were stuck in the system for months.
Usually, she has just enough to cover the roughly $ 2,000 she has to pay for rent, auto insurance, and medical bills. She managed to send a few checks to her mother in the Philippines, as she has been doing for two decades.
“I came here to work and dedicated my life to this community,” she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s our life that we have, and we can’t always rely on donations.”
Bautista said she would spend her stimulus money to stock up on food and help her children pay their bills. “We appreciate the help,” she said of government aid. “Do not mistake yourself. We appreciate it, but we cannot trust it. We want job insurance. “
“If I have my job, I won’t be afraid because I know I can handle it all,” she added. “I’m going to have some money to pay my bills.”
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
© 2021 The New York Times Company
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