As Jamaica braces for the impact of Hurricane Melissa, the country is split — not just along weather lines, but economic ones.
Melissa has rapidly strengthened into a Category 5 storm, threatening the island with destructive winds, flooding, and days of potential power outages. While most citizens are preparing to stay indoors, a growing number of businesses are offering employees what they call “storm shift bonuses” — extra pay for those willing to report for duty and remain at work during the hurricane.
The move has sparked widespread debate across social media, revealing how differently Jamaicans experience financial pressure. For many young workers, especially those in entry-level or call-centre positions, the bonus looks like a lifeline. “When you’re making 120K a month, an extra $5,000 can pay a bill or buy food,” one user wrote. Others added that staying at work might be safer than sitting at home in a poorly built apartment or a flood-prone community.
Still, not everyone agrees. Some older and more established Jamaicans, particularly those with children or mortgages, argue that no amount of money is worth risking safety. As one popular comment put it: “Leaving your comfortable bed to go sleep on concrete? No shower, just wipe up? No way.” Another warned workers to get everything in writing, noting that bonuses are often delayed or taxed heavily after the fact.
The arguments have exposed an uncomfortable truth: the less you earn, the less choice you have. Those with savings or family support can afford to stay home. Those without, often cannot. For the lower-income worker, accepting a storm-shift bonus may not be about greed, but necessity.
Yet, the ethical responsibility lies with employers as well. If staff are expected to work through a hurricane, there must be guarantees — safe shelter, food, transportation, and proper compensation. Otherwise, the incentive risks crossing into exploitation.
Hurricane Melissa, then, is not just a natural disaster; it is a social one. It highlights the fragile balance between work and wellbeing, survival and dignity. For many Jamaicans, the real storm isn’t in the sky — it’s the one between “mi need di money” and “mi need fi live.”