And although we often think of precarious work as being relegated to the less ‘prestigious’ end of the job market it increasingly appears in all sectors and at all levels.19 According to the UK’s University and College Union, tertiary education, usually considered an elite profession, is the second highest user of casual labour.20 The UCU’s data is not sex-disaggregated, but according to the UK’s Higher Education Statistics Agency,21 women are more likely than men to be on shorter, fixed-term contracts, and statistics from Germany and Europe show the same.22
More broadly, across the EU most of the increase in women’s employment over the past decade has been through part-time and precarious work.23 In Australia, 30% of women are in casual employment, compared to 22% of men, while in Japan, women make up two-thirds24 of non-regular workers. A Harvard study on the rise of ‘alternative work’ in America between 2005 and 2015 found that the percentage of women in such work ‘more than doubled’, meaning that ‘women are now more likely than men to be employed in an alternative work arrangement’.25
This is a problem because while precarious work isn’t ideal for any worker, it can have a particularly severe impact on women. For a start, it is possible that it is exacerbating the gender pay gap: in the UK there is a 34% hourly pay penalty for workers on zero-hours contracts, a 39% hourly pay penalty for workers on casual contracts, and a 20% pay penalty for agency workers – which are on the increase as public services continue to be outsourced.26 But no one seems interested in finding out how this might be affecting women. An analysis of pay policy in Europe criticises the outsourcing trend for seeming ‘to have been implemented with little or no reference to their gender effects’.27 And existing data suggests that those gender effects are plentiful.
There is, to begin with, ‘limited scope for collective bargaining’ in agency jobs. This is a problem for all workers, but can be especially problematic for women because evidence suggests that collective bargaining (as opposed to individual salary negotiation) could be particularly important for women – those pesky modesty norms again. As a result, an increase in jobs like agency work that don’t allow for collective bargaining might be detrimental to attempts to close the gender pay gap.
But the negative impact of precarious work on women isn’t just about unintended side effects. It’s also about the weaker rights that are intrinsic to the gig economy. In the UK a female employee is only entitled to maternity leave if she is actually an employee. If she’s a ‘worker’, that is, someone on a short-term or zero-hours contract, she isn’t entitled to any leave at all, meaning she would have to quit her job and reapply after she’s given birth. A female worker is also only entitled to statutory maternity pay if she has worked for twenty-six weeks in the last sixty-six and if her average wage is at least £116 per week.
And this is where the problems can kick in. Not being entitled to return to her job meant that Holly, a research associate at a UK university, ended up dropping two pay grades after giving birth.28 Maria, also a university researcher, had her hours suddenly and mysteriously cut in half six weeks before she was due to give birth; conveniently for her employee, the amount of maternity pay she was owed dropped correspondingly. The same thing happened to Rachel, who works in a pub restaurant: her hours suddenly dropped when she told her employer she was pregnant. She now might not even qualify for statutory maternity pay at all.
After giving birth, Maria ended up on a new university contract for just under three hours a week – the only hours on offer. She can, and does, work extra hours to cover staff absences, but the extra hours are often at short notice. And here we run into the second major problem that disproportionately impacts on female workers: unpredictable, last-minute scheduling.
As we’ve seen, women still do the vast majority of the world’s unpaid care work and, particularly when it comes to childcare, this makes irregular hours extremely difficult. This is partly because, in another case of having the data but failing to use it, British childcare provision has not caught up with the reality of how women are working. We know that 75% of UK families on low to middle incomes now work outside standard hours, but most formal childcare is still only available between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. It must be booked and paid for well in advance, which is difficult if you don’t know when you’re going to need it. This problem is particularly acute for single parents (90% of whom in the UK are women29) a group that has seen a 27% increase in temporary work.30 And given Britain has one of the highest childcare costs in Europe, it’s also an expensive one.31
The scheduling issue is being made worse by gender-insensitive algorithms. A growing number of companies use ‘just in time’ scheduling software, which use sales patterns and other data to predict how many workers will be needed at any one time. They also respond to real-time sales analyses, telling managers to send workers home when consumer demand is slow. ‘It’s like magic,’ the vice president for business development at Kronos, which supplies the software for a number of US chains, told the New York Times.32
It probably does feel like magic for the companies that use his software to boost profits by shifting the risks of doing business onto their workers. It probably also feels pretty great for the increasing number of managers who are compensated on the efficiency of their staffing. It feels less great, however, for the workers themselves, particularly those with caring responsibilities. Jannette Navarro, a barista at a Starbucks in San Diego, showed the New York Times her upcoming algorithm-produced
