When Ying Shan Mei started working as a janitor in 2011, it helped her and her family to navigate life in a new country. They had immigrated five years earlier from China. Her father had lost his job in construction and was searching for work. Like many others who found janitorial positions through word of mouth, they got wind of the opening from a relative.
Mei went with her father to the interview, taking on a familiar role for many children of first-generation immigrants: translator. To her surprise, staff handed her an application as well. Thus the 22-year-old City College of San Francisco student unexpectedly started her cleaning career.
Janitorial work offered a quiet but steady path for immigrant workers like Mei to chase their American Dream. The hours were long and the work was often hard and unseen. It was also an accessible way to build a life in a new country.
But recent economic challenges, starting with the COVID-19 pandemic, disrupted this pattern. Service Employees International Union Local 87, which represents more than 5,500 janitors maintaining buildings across San Francisco, was forced to adapt by transitioning from the traditional hiring hall system to a medically safe, socially distanced digital platform to receive job assignments remotely. While this shift simplified the process, it left many members, especially Chinese-speaking janitors, who tend to be older, struggling to adjust.
Once again, Mei finds herself in a familiar role: Just as she assisted at her father’s interview, she is now, as the union’s treasurer, translating for the broader membership, helping those who feel left behind in the digital transition.
Most of the local’s members are immigrants whose primary language is not English. Chinese speakers make up about 10% of the local’s workforce — the third-largest non-English linguistic group, following Spanish and Arabic speakers. While they have been working to boost their voice within the union, their numbers have declined even as overall membership has rebounded in the post-pandemic era. The office closures sidelined most of the cleaning workforce, and union leaders and members say many older Chinese janitors retired during the resultant layoffs. Today, fewer new workers from the group are signing up.
“Most Chinese workers are looking for stable, steady income because the cost of living here is so high,” Mei said. While janitorial work is still in demand, she added, “we just don’t have enough jobs that give people more hours right now.”
When Mei started as a janitor, it turned out to be a practical fit: “That job started at night, so I could go to school during the day.” Many janitors in the city juggle multiple responsibilities. Some have another job during the day, while others, particularly immigrant women, often shoulder caregiving duties for family before heading to the night shift.
Mei described the experience of cleaning an entire floor alone as lonely and disorienting, especially in the beginning.
“You feel the most lost when you first start,” she said. Unlike Mei, many immigrant janitors speak very little English, which adds to the isolation.
Most janitors take on-call assignments until they gain enough experience to secure a permanent position. Mei followed the same path, which meant she was sent to a different building nearly every day. Each assignment meant starting from scratch — figuring out where supplies were stored, access to elevators and the most efficient route to clean each suite.
“Many say the floor feels like a maze,” she said. “Sometimes you don’t even know where to start.”
After finishing school, Mei continued janitorial work while taking on a role as an assistant in the union. With encouragement from the local union president, she successfully ran for treasurer in 2019, following the retirement of a Chinese-speaking leader. After the election, she left her cleaning duties to serve the membership full time.
It was a crucial time to step into leadership, just before the coronavirus hit. The union faced one challenge after another: first, ensuring that “essential workers” who couldn’t do their jobs from home had safe working conditions; second, managing the impact of mass layoffs and reduced hours as many companies no longer required in-person office work.
“It’s been so busy ever since I got elected,” Mei said.
Virtual hiring difficult, but safer
Besides negotiating contracts and securing benefits, the union helps connect workers to jobs. On-call workers and those recently laid off used to line up in the union office, waiting to be assigned to a shift.
But in the pandemic, the need to minimize physical contact led the union to switch to online job assigning. It saved time for some, eliminating hours-long waits for jobs members might not even get. But it posed new challenges. Some older immigrant Chinese janitors do not own smartphones, so plugging in requires more support.
“I know a lot of members rely on their children to help them navigate the system,” Mei said. But for many who lack family assistance, Mei provides it, just as she did decades ago for her father.
Mei shares her phone number with any member who comes to the office for help. She organizes WeChat groups to keep members connected. Just as job opportunities in the community often spread by word of mouth, she makes sure news about how to get support does. She spends most of her days on the phone answering questions about paychecks and insurance, forming an especially critical link for Chinese speakers.
The shift to digitally based assigning has had unexpected benefits. Amid the highly visible and aggressive immigration crackdowns orchestrated by the Trump administration, some workers — despite having work permits or green cards — feel nervous leaving their homes. For those who keep working, the online system gives them one less reason to be vulnerable in public.
A focus on work status
Recognizing the rapidly shifting federal policy landscape, the union hosted a session with immigration attorneys to connect members to resources. That effort has proven crucial, as even those with legal rights to work in the United States could face sudden deportation. The Trump administration has terminated Temporary Protected Status for individuals from several countries, including Honduras, Nicaragua and Nepal, a move that could strip members of their legal right to stay. When the surge of federal agents in the Bay Area sparked fears of increased immigration operations, the union moved quickly to educate its members about their rights and launched a hotline for support.
At the same time, Mei has other concerns, such as the falling number of Chinese members in the union. She said she has noticed a reduced flow of new immigrants from China to San Francisco in recent years. Upon arrival, younger workers often look for other lines of work. Many in the older generation sidelined in the pandemic, including Mei’s father, retired early.
Now the livelihoods of her members depends on how fast commercial space occupancy rebounds, bringing workers back to office buildings that need cleaning. A recent report by mapping analytics research firm Placer.ai found signs of economic recovery, with foot traffic at San Francisco office buildings up 19% from last year.
“We used to have more on-call jobs than janitors waiting for work, but now we have more janitors waiting for on-call shifts than there are jobs available,” Mei said. “If more people came back to work in downtown offices, there would be more need for janitors to clean those floors.”
Cultural ambassador
Yet for now, Mei focuses on making sure those facing the challenges she did 14 years ago are heard and supported by the union.
When Mei went to a bakery to talk with the Public Press, she barely had time to sit down before her phone buzzed again. She gave a quick, apologetic smile. “It’s one of our members,” she said in Cantonese, glancing down at the screen. “Sorry.”
As she wrapped up one call, someone yelled her name from across the bakery. Jenny Li, a longtime janitor union member, walked over to greet her.
“We can always count on Ying Shan in the union,” Li said, also in Cantonese. “If there is anything we don’t understand, now we can just give her a call.”
Li shared how, after an eight-hour shift of nonstop wiping, her wrists would swell up like tennis balls. These are the kinds of problem, she explained, that are hard to communicate to union leadership without Mei, who understands the workers’ language and the culture.
“That’s why we need people like Mei to step up,” Li said.
As they parted, Mei repeated an invitation to connect that she offers all her members. “Give me a call directly,” she said. “I’ll always pick it up, unless I’m in a meeting.”