Overgrown quads crawling with ticks. Cracked sidewalks unplowed in mid-winter: impassable. Showers caked with inch-thick mold. Classrooms dusty, dirty and unkempt. Dorm bathrooms still reeking of last weekend’s now-hardened vomit. Dining hall buffets empty. Scared, starved students calling out to mommy in bewilderment. A university unhinged, rendered inert.

This description of life without Cornell workers is overly dramatic, of course. A lame attempt at shock and awe. But what would become of our school without the services provided by these workers? How much are their services worth?

At the very least these services are worth a sustainable income. If you work at Cornell you should make enough to provide yourself with life’s necessities. All Cornell workers should be able to afford three meals a day, sleep in an adequately heated home, go to the doctor when they’re sick and, most importantly, live life with peace of mind. They shouldn’t have to worry about how they’ll put food on the table tonight, how they’ll pay the doctor when their child gets sick or how they’ll be able to keep the roof over their head two months from now. This is not too much to ask. This is not an impractical demand more applicable to a utopian America. This is what’s just. This is what’s necessary.

Cornell’s track record on labor agreements can best be described as, “OK.” But as the nation’s economy sickens, the workers who work damn hard to ensure that the nightmare described in this column’s first paragraph isn’t realized are falling critically ill. Those who once felt stable now anxiously endure sleepless nights, and those who once just squeaked by are now forced to fall back on food banks and government housing. Some of those who cook our food can’t do the same for themselves.

Circumstances are dire, but not hopeless. As the UAW Local 2300, the union that represents the aforementioned grounds, custodial, dining and other maintenance workers, starts up negotiations with the University, Cornell has an excellent opportunity to establish its position as a leader in fair labor practices by providing its workers with a fair contract.

This contract must reflect the value and nature of what these workers do.

Some call these men and women “unskilled” workers who perform simple manual tasks, undeserving of wage over the minimum eight bucks an hour. This is an easy argument for us aspiring white-collar professionals to make; after all, we are going to be doctors and lawyers and bankers and professors, far too “skilled” to cook and clean and mow. But this arrogance blinds us from the immeasurable practical value of these workers. Not only do they work incredibly hard, not only do they do their jobs exceptionally well, but they also truly care on a personal level. At a recent discussion panel about this issue several Cornell employees made a point of referring to Cornell students as, “our students.” These men and women care not only insofar as they worry about keeping their jobs, but are also truly concerned about their students’ health and livelihood. They are a committed, hard-working group who constitute the lifeblood of one of the most prestigious academic institutions in the world. A fair contract is the least of what they deserve for their service to this University and its students.

So what does this fair contract entail?

The principle obstacle toward a sustainable income for Cornell workers is a New York State law that essentially forbids employees of academic institutions to collect unemployment insurance during the months they don’t work. This law was passed so that douche bag teachers with stable salaries wouldn’t pad their wallets with unemployment checks during the summer. But the law covers all academic employees, not just teachers, which screws over the dining and other workers who really need unemployment insurance when faced with three months without pay. This issue will be especially problematic this summer, as significantly fewer summer job opportunities are available.

Cornell needs to step it up and remedy this problem.

The University needs to use its considerable lobbying power in Albany to change that state law. But that’s a long-term solution, and workers don’t have that kind of time. As summer looms, worried workers are scrambling to find any sort of job that’ll get them through August.

So it’s time for Cornell to pay up. If the state of New York won’t allow unemployed Cornell workers to collect unemployment, the University needs to pay unemployment insurance to each worker it purges at the end of every Spring.

This is a bold step that would affirm Cornell’s commitment to a dedicated workforce that literally allows this University to function. With these upcoming labor negotiations, Cornell has an opportunity to lead other institutions into a new era of sustainable incomes for workers. Yes, these are tough times, but this University isn’t exactly bankrupt. Our endowment is a cool $5.39 BILLION and our income is greater than many Fortune 500 companies.

If the University has the cash to import marble, why can’t it provide its employees with a sustainable income?

If I’m not mistaken, a little dance troupe called the Pussycat Dolls are rolling onto Ithaca next Friday at the cost of about a quarter of a million dollars. Yet dining employees are working their asses off in Okenshields all day only to take the bus to the soup kitchen after work. Cornell holds itself to high standards, but some of the workers who make this so-called prestigious academic institution function can’t even afford goddamn groceries. It’s some world-class bullshit. But if we students get behind our workers in numbers, we can make the administration alive to its ignorance. Even if we can’t affect policy change, we can at least shame the powers that be into realizing their own absurdity.