In Santa Cruz County, day laborers find fewer jobs and growing fears

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Alberto, 50, takes a 30-minute bus ride from Watsonville to Santa Cruz every morning with hopes of securing a job — even if it’s just for a few hours. He spends most of his day perched near the edge of a hardware store parking lot, and depending on the weather, he sometimes stands near the store’s entrance. 

The last month has been particularly hard for Alberto. He hasn’t been able to secure a job and frequently goes home empty-handed. The wet weather lately hasn’t helped him either. (Lookout is choosing not to share Alberto’s last name, or those of other day laborers, because of their undocumented status.)

It’s a significant change from the past, when Alberto said he was able to find jobs on most of the days when he actively sought out work. “I give it my all and try not to cry when things get tough,” he said. “I come here to work because our rent payment doesn’t wait for us.” 

Alberto is one of many day laborers, or jornaleros in Spanish, in Santa Cruz County who have been struggling to find work lately as local employers get squeezed by rising construction costs and uncertainty over the effects of President Donald Trump’s tariffs, along with a sense among day workers that employers are staying away from places where they traditionally find workers due to concerns about coming into contact with federal immigration agents. 

Day laborers tend to seek jobs at hardware and home improvement stores and typically work in construction, landscaping, helping people move furniture or even cleaning up trash from a property. Laborers are primarily men from Latin American countries, such as Mexico, El Salvador and Guatemala. A majority of them are undocumented. For many, being a day laborer is all they’ve ever known.

On any given day, there are up to 30 day laborers — sometimes even more during the summer — sitting around the parking lot of a Santa Cruz hardware store in the early morning. The peak time for a laborer to land a job is usually between 7 a.m. and 10 a.m., but some stay longer than that just in case an opportunity falls into their lap.  

Each time a car pulls into the parking lot, laborers are quick to raise their hands, a strategy to catch the attention of whoever is driving in. Others boldly walk up to people barely getting out their trucks, asking if they’re looking for an extra hand. 

The average wage of a day laborer usually depends on the employer. Sometimes if they are lucky they get paid $35 an hour with lunch included. If laborers have their own tools, they stand better chances of landing a job, and one with more money. 

Laborers usually bargain with employers about pay and how long they’ll be needed before accepting a job. Each day is different for laborers. They almost never work for the same employer — unless they’re contracted for long-term work, which sometimes happens. 

At the Day Worker Center of Santa Cruz County— which acts as an intermediary between laborers and employers — workers are guaranteed $25 an hour, said former director Maria Rodriguez-Castillo, who left the position at the end of February. Employers registered with the center are required to pay laborers in cash and to contract them for at least four hours a day. 

The center is constantly doing outreach to employers so that they register in its system. On average, there are up to 30 jobs available throughout the week, which isn’t enough for the 150 workers registered at the center, Rodriguez-Castillo said. But it varies from week to week. 

While the number of people looking for a job hasn’t changed lately, what has been affected is the number of employers available, said Rodriguez-Castillo: “We have day laborers to provide work. What we don’t have is where we can send them to work.”

Lingering effects from the pandemic, along with natural disasters like the Pajaro Valley floods and high cost of materials have all greatly impacted the number of jobs available to day laborers, said Rodriguez-Castillo. She declined to comment on how Trump’s immigration policies are affecting the day worker community.

The California Employment Development Department reported that 5,000 people were working in construction, logging and mining-related jobs in Santa Cruz County in January, the most recent figures available — a 2.1% decrease from December.

While construction isn’t one of the county’s top industries, it can still be affected by policies coming out of the White House, said Monterey Bay Economic Partnership CEO Tahra Goraya. Trump’s immigration policies are driving a general sense of fear across all communities, she said. 

“There’s so many moving targets [and] that’s fueling the uncertainty and the fear. So time will tell what the true impact will be on our region and our workforce and on our economy,” Goraya said. 

Many of the day laborers Lookout spoke to alluded to the rising costs of materials as one of the reasons why jobs have been drying up lately. Lumber and drywall — two of the most common materials used in construction projects — are imported from Canada and Mexico, two countries facing impending 25% tariffs under the Trump administration. 

“I think a lot of people didn’t realize the amount of lumber that comes from Canada, and I just don’t think it was on most people’s radar until now,” Goraya said. 

She said she believes there will be supply chain issues, like a potential lumber shortage, as a result of these tariff policies. Those issues are going to have a ripple effect across the region — higher prices for lumber and potentially fewer construction jobs. There’s just no telling how deep these impacts will go, she said. 

Immigration policies are also forcing undocumented people to stay inside and not go to work or run simple errands like getting a hair cut due to deportation fears, said Goraya. Staying inside is not the answer, she said; people need to go out and earn a living for their families. 

If people are not showing up for work, there’s going to be a shortage of labor for these jobs, she said. Goraya said MBEP doesn’t have data yet on the effects of federal policy changes on the local labor market, or how many people are not showing up to work because of immigration fears. 

Some workers believe employers are hesitant to hire them because federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents might show up to a work site or to a public setting like a hardware store. One of Trump’s earliest executive orders opened up the door for ICE agents to arrest undocumented individuals in areas that have been traditionally off-limits to authorities, including churches and work sites. 

Lookout reached out to 10 landscaping and construction companies in the county for this story, but none had returned requests for comment as of publication time.

“I fear the possibility of immigration showing up [here],” Alberto said, gesturing to the parking lot where he stood on a recent morning, looking to find work.

Alberto has called Watsonville home since 2011, and moved to California from Unión de Tula — a town two hours from Guadalajara, Jalisco, in Mexico — 30 years ago. He has a 15-year-old daughter who lives with her mom, but Alberto lives alone, renting out a room for $500. 

Even though his daughter is in good hands with her mother, Alberto is scared to leave her behind in Watsonville if he ends up getting deported, he said. 

He wants to acquire his residency card before immigration agents try to deport him, Alberto said, and is trying to find a lawyer who might help him continue the application process he started years ago through a family member. Other than that, he doesn’t have an idea what he’ll do if he gets deported.  

Not everyone is as concerned. “It’s something that I worry about, but I’m not losing sleep over it,” said Hilarión, another day laborer. If he gets deported, Hilarión, 44, said he at least has his family back home in León, Guanajuato, in Mexico to fall back on, and would return to being a bus driver — a job he had before moving to the United States.

But Hilarión’s biggest worry is being deported and not having the means to travel back to León — which could be either a 28-hour bus ride from Tijuana or a three-hour flight — especially as he’s struggling to find a stable income. 

Hilarión looks for work at a hardware store on the other side of Santa Cruz from Alberto. He and his 18-year-old son — who is also undocumented — are solely focused on working to send money back home to their family, Hilarión said. He’s been living in Santa Cruz County for three years, but tries to go back home when he can. 

On most days, Hilarión arrives at the hardware store around 7:30 a.m. and stays until 1 p.m., giving him time to pick up his son from work. Much like Alberto, Hilarión has gone days without getting a job as a day laborer. He’s able to get by only because he has a dishwashing job that provides him with a bit of cash, Hilarión said. 

“We came [to the United States] to make money for our family,” Hilarión said. “Whatever is left over after paying rent and getting the necessities, we send back to Mexico.”

While laborers like Hilarión are feeling the pressure and fear of possible deportations, he said, those who have planted roots in Santa Cruz have a heightened sense of fear because they have more to lose. 

“We’re all scared, but we’re more sad about not being able to find a job,” he said. “Even if immigration [agents] were to be in the area, if there were more opportunities, people would be able to go to work and ICE would forget that we are here in the first place.” 

For Erik, 58, being a jornalero is better than working in the agriculture industry despite the constant job instability, he said. Erik, who’s been in the United States for 25 years — five living in Los Angeles and 20 in Santa Cruz County — is from Guatemala, and has been a day laborer ever since he moved to the country.

“Here in three days I’m able to make the same amount of money working a week in the fields,” Erik said. 

Erik’s been coming to the same hardware store to find work for the entirety of his time in Santa Cruz. His familiarity with the site and contractors is what keeps him from going anywhere else, Erik said. 

Unlike Hilarión and Alberto, Erik is not fazed by the possibility of being deported, he said. The 58-year-old lives in Santa Cruz alone in his car — because it’s cheaper than renting a room or a studio in the area — and hasn’t been in contact with his adult children who live in the United States in years. 

“If [ICE] gets us, what can we do?” Erik said. He’s even thought of returning to his native Guatemala, even though it’s been decades since he’s been back. 

Alberto dreams of the day he’s able to get a stable job, he said. He wants to work in a restaurant or even the hardware store he stands outside of every morning. Although he’s become accustomed to not always being able to get a job, he is stressed and frustrated at the situation he’s in. 

During his free time — or days where he’s not able to find a job — he volunteers at the Salvation Army, he said. It’s his way of giving back to the community. Alberto said he turns to the nonprofit for clothes and hot meals when he hasn’t been able to find a job, like right now. 

Spending his time helping people has alleviated some of the stress he’s feeling. “I enjoy working and helping people,” he said. 

Alberto’s goal is to acquire legal documentation so he can go back and forth between the U.S. and Jalisco, where he wants to build a home. But until then, Alberto will continue to wake up early to take the bus from Watsonville to Santa Cruz and stand in a hardware store parking lot searching for work. 

“God is good,” Alberto said. “If I work, good, and if I don’t, thank you, God. No crying, just keep moving forward. Thankfully, I’m healthy and alive.” 

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