Paula starts her shift with the familiar ache in her back and the newer ache of uncertainty. The factory has changed since the "flexibility" reforms passed—Cotrim's reforms, though government implemented. Easier to fire now. Contracts shorter. The union weaker.
She still has her job. Twenty-five years counts for something. But colleagues have been let go—"restructuring," management says—and replaced with temporary workers earning less, with fewer protections. The president calls this "dynamism." Paula has another word for it.
The morning work is harder with fewer hands. The machines don't know about flexibility reforms; they still require the same labor. Paula and her remaining colleagues absorb the workload. Productivity up. Wages flat. This is the liberal promise in practice.
Lunch in the canteen brings bitter conversation. Célia was "flexibilized" out last month—twenty years of service, then ninety days notice and nothing. She's at the unemployment office now, fifty-two years old, competing with graduates for jobs that don't exist. "The president says this creates opportunity," someone mutters. "For whom?"
The afternoon brings an announcement: the factory's German parent company is investing in new equipment. Job security, perhaps—or automation that will eliminate more positions. Under Cotrim's Portugal, capital flows more freely. Workers feel it, positively and negatively.
After work, the union meeting is sparse. The reforms weakened collective bargaining; members have drifted; hope has faded. The CGTP representative speaks about resistance, about solidarity, but the power has shifted. The president who champions "individual opportunity" doesn't mention collective protection.
Paula's daughter calls from Lisbon. She has a new job—tech sector, the growth industry Cotrim celebrates. Good salary, good prospects. "Maybe things are improving," she says. Paula doesn't argue. For some, yes. For educated young professionals in Lisbon, yes. For fifty-year-old textile workers in the north? Different story.
Dinner alone—her husband works evening shifts now, the schedule "flexibilized" to match production needs. They see each other less. The family unit that Cotrim's social liberalism claims to value doesn't include working-class schedules, apparently.
The evening news shows the president speaking about competitiveness, innovation, the future economy. Beautiful words, Paula thinks, for people already positioned to benefit. What about the rest? What about the workers whose flexibility is just precarity with marketing?
Before bed, she calculates her finances. Slightly worse than four years ago—wage growth hasn't matched inflation, benefits have been trimmed, the union's negotiating power reduced. This is what liberalism delivered for her: more risk, less security, and a president who explains why it's actually good.
She doesn't believe him. But belief doesn't matter when laws change.