The Labor-Friendly Legislature Is Struggling to Walk Its Talk With Its Own Staff

The Oregon Capitol can sometimes seem like a union hall.

Since claiming decisive majorities more than a decade ago, Democrats have rammed through big minimum wage hikes, family medical leave and, among many other organized labor priorities, a law mandating pay equity.

It’s continued this session, as Democrats have introduced bills that would protect workers from wage theft and require cannabis companies to open themselves up to unionization. Another bill proposes that substitute teachers, who are currently unrepresented, should be unionized.

Yet under the same Capitol dome, a nascent attempt to form what would be the nation’s first union for legislative assistants is mired in quicksand. According to interviews with a dozen prospective union members, Democratic Party lawmakers are denying staff both overtime pay and the kind of basic workplace protections unions offer.

“There is hypocrisy at work here,” says Justin Roberts, a representative of International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers Local 89, who is leading bargaining for the legislative assistants. “We have definitely had frustration that we haven’t reached an agreement.”

The Legislature is an unusual workplace: Its 90 members are independently elected, decide on their own how to spend their office budgets ($234,465 each for the current biennium), and make their own hiring decisions, usually for a staff of two or three.

There are other complexities. Turnover in the House, where members must run for election every two years, is constant; the work is episodic, 160 days in odd-numbered years and 35 days in even years; and many members take advantage of an exemption from nepotism laws that allows them to hire spouses or family members. And some members pay their relatives disproportionately well.

Historically, fresh graduates and campaign aides would come to Salem, seeking to get their starts amid a small coterie of long-term staffers. That created a pool of mission-driven workers who would mostly do what they were told without asking many questions or pushing for family wages.

But the culture began to change with the passage of a 2017 pay equity law. The Legislature hired a consultant to construct a pay scale as part of a move to professionalize the workforce and raise and equalize pay.

Then, in late 2020, IBEW began an organizing drive, with the enthusiastic support of many staffers, who felt exploited by Capitol culture.

In December 2020, IBEW sought certification of the union from the state Employment Relations Board. The state objected, arguing that the Legislature was not an appropriate place for a union because it’s really 90 different, independent employers, each of whom entrusts their staffs with confidential information. The ERB rejected that argument. And after staffers voted to form a union, the two sides began negotiating a contract.

Almost two years later, they are far from having one—a source of growing frustration. Legislative leaders declined to comment on the pace of talks, delegating questions to legislative HR director Jessica Knieling.

Knieling says the Legislature’s bargaining team, which includes representatives from each of the four caucuses, has acted in good faith. She adds that the last scheduled bargaining session—which was set for March 30—had to be canceled when IBEW wasn’t ready with a new proposal.

“There are always unexpected delays in bargaining, and we understand and expect this, especially in a first contract in a most unique environment,” Knieling says, “but we do take exception to the allegation we have not done our part.”

Legislative assistants say individual members are generally supportive, but it’s not a top priority for any member. When the Legislature is in session, passing and blocking bills is most important. In the interim, lawmakers must work their day jobs and worry about getting reelected.

“There will never be a time in which it’s convenient,” says one staff member involved in negotiations. “If that’s the bar, it will never get done.”

A big point of contention: overtime. The new pay scale includes four levels of legislative assistant. Those in the two most junior levels, called LA1s and LA2s, are eligible for overtime.

WW interviewed current and former LAs for this story (all declined to be named, citing fear of retaliation). The consensus was that virtually nobody—members or staff—knew that Capitol workers were eligible for overtime.

The numbers bear that out. The sum total paid out for staff overtime since January 2021 is $2,345.97 for dozens of eligible workers—and nearly half of that came in 2021.

Roberts, the IBEW representative, confirms that ignorance was widespread. “I have spoken with 10 or 20 staff who have said they have been impacted by not getting paid overtime,” he says.

Last month, Knieling issued a memo and provided further training on overtime, although she contends that members and eligible staff were notified of their rights when hired or after being sworn in. She says workers who think they were shorted can still get their money.

“Employees who did not record overtime can submit the prior hours to their appointing authority for approval and then to payroll for payment of wages or comp time,” Knieling says.

But, staffers say, since most eligible employees didn’t know they were eligible, they didn’t record their hours and are now trying to re-create their schedules.

In a session with an unusually high number of new House members—nearly half did not hold their seats in 2021—and new leadership in both chambers for the first time in a decade, staff turnover has been high, with some quitting and some getting fired. Staffers say the turmoil makes the need for union representation greater than ever. Roberts of the IBEW pledges his team is going to amp up the pressure to get a contract in place.

“It starts with a petition and escalates from there,” he says. “If we need to look at information picketing, we’ll do that. All options are on the table.”